The Whites and the Blues. Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
velvet, spangled with silver stars, beneath the feet of the traveller. The trees, adorned with icicles, looked like immense chandeliers. The birds fluttered along the road, anxiously seeking the accustomed food with which God provided them, but which, during the last three days, it had been so difficult to find. Shivering, and fluffing their feathers, they looked twice their natural size, and when they perched on the flexible branches, or left them to fly away, they scattered a shower of diamonds.
Charles, who in after-life was so impressionable to the beauties of Nature, and who described them so perfectly, lost his sad thoughts in the picturesque scene; and, proud of this his first liberty of mind and body, with which he was entering the world, walked on without noticing the road or feeling fatigue.
He had already accomplished three-quarters of the way, when, just beyond Sessersheim, he was overtaken by a little squad of foot-soldiers, about twenty in all, commanded by a mounted captain who was smoking a cigar. The twenty men were marching in two files. In the middle of the road, like Charles, a horseman—easily identified as such by his boots and spurs—was walking. A large white cloak covered his shoulders and fell to his feet, leaving only a youthful head visible, in which intelligence seemed to combine with carelessness and gayety. He wore a foraging cap of a style not in vogue in the French army.
The captain, seeing Charles on the road near the man with the white cloak, looked sharply at him for a moment, and then, seeing that he was only a boy, smiled pleasantly to him.
"Where are you going, my young citizen?" he asked.
"Captain," replied the boy, believing that he must give a lengthy explanation, "I have come from Strasbourg, and I am on my way to General Pichegru's headquarters at Auenheim. Is that very far off?"
"About two hundred paces," replied the man in the white cloak; "see, you may get a glimpse of the first houses of Auenheim at the end of that avenue of trees which we are just about to enter."
"Thank you," said Charles, making ready to hurry on.
"Faith, young man," continued the man in the white cloak, "if you are not in too much of a hurry you might go along with us. Then I could ask you for some news from home."
"What home, citizen?" asked Charles in astonishment, looking for the first time at the fine noble countenance which was for a moment veiled in sadness.
"Come," said the latter, "you are from Besançon, or at least from the Franche-Comté. Can our national accent be disguised? I, too, come from the Franche-Comté, and I am proud of it."
Charles pondered a moment; this recognition of the accent awakened a college memory in his mind.
"Well," asked the young man, "do you wish to be unknown?"
"No, citizen; I was only thinking that Theophrastus, who was first called Tyrtamus, and whom the Athenians, as his name indicates, had surnamed the 'fine speaker,' was recognized as a Lesbian by his accent, after fifty years sojourn at Athens, by a dealer in herbs."
"You are learned, sir," replied the young man, smiling. "That is a luxury in these days."
"No, for I am on my way to General Pichegru, who is very learned himself. I hope to become his secretary, thanks to my letter of recommendation. And you, citizen, do you belong to the army?"
"Not exactly."
"Then," said Charles, "you are attached to the administration?"
"Attached—that's the word. Only I am not attached to the administration; I am attached to myself."
"But," said Charles, lowering his voice, "you called me monsieur out loud. Are you not afraid that you will lose your place?"
"Oh! I say, captain," laughed the young man, "here is a young citizen who is afraid that I shall lose my place for calling him monsieur! Do you know any one who wants my place? I will do him the honor of giving it to him instantly."
The captain replied only by a sad smile and a shrug; but Charles thought he heard him murmur, "Poor devil!"
"Tell me," continued the young man in the white cloak, "since you are from Besançon—for you do come from there, do you not?"
"I do not deny it," replied Charles.
"You must know a family there named Sainte-Hermine."
"Yes, a widowed mother whose husband was guillotined eight months ago."
"That is the one," said the young man, lifting his eyes to heaven.
"And three sons."
"Three sons! yes, there are still three," murmured the other with a sigh.
"The eldest, the Comte de Sainte-Hermine, who emigrated, and two others younger than he; one is about twenty and the other is not more than fourteen or fifteen."
"Thank you; how long is it since you left Besançon?"
"About eight days."
"Then you can give me some recent news about this family?"
"Yes, but it is sad news."
"Tell it nevertheless."
"The night before I left, my father and I attended the funeral of the countess."
"Ah!" exclaimed the young man, as if he had received an unexpected blow; "then the countess is dead?"
"Yes."
"So much the better," said he with a sigh, as he raised his eyes wet with tears to heaven.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Charles.
"Yes," replied the young man, "it is better that she should die of sickness than through grief when she learns that her son has been shot."
"What? has the Comte de Sainte-Hermine been shot?"
"No, but he is going to be."
"When?"
"Why, as soon as we reach the fortress of Auenheim; that is where the executions usually take place."
"Then the count is at the fortress?"
"No, they are taking him there."
"And they will shoot him?"
"As soon as I get there."
"Then you have charge of the execution?"
"No, but I hope they will let me give the order to fire. That is a favor that is seldom refused to any brave soldier taken with his arms in his hand, even if he has emigrated."
"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Charles, catching a glimpse of the truth. "Are—"
"Exactly, my young friend. That is why I laughed when you recommended prudence, and why I offered to give my place to any one who wanted it, for I have no fear of losing it. As you said, I am attached."
And shaking aside his cloak with a movement of his shoulders, he showed the boy that his hands were fastened in front and his arms bound behind.
"Then," cried Charles, with a movement of terror, "you are—"
"The Comte de Sainte-Hermine, my child. You see I was right when I said that it is well my poor mother is dead."
"Oh!" exclaimed Charles.
"Luckily," he continued between his teeth, "my brothers still live!"
CHAPTER XVI
THE FORAGING CAP
Charles