Part 49 (2/2)
The turrets even of the h.o.a.ry castle were fringed with diamond stalact.i.tes, from which dropped liquid pearls upon the deep green ivy; and the griffins at the door each upheld a cone of dazzling snow upon his old stone forehead.
The visitor glanced about with many a smirk of approbation, and some wise shrugs of the shoulder; but said nothing aloud, preserving his breath for more important speech.
Margaret was sitting listlessly over her needle-work when the footman brought her a card, upon which was discernible, amid flourishes of the wildest fantasy, ”_Ludovic, Chevalier de Calembours_.”
She started up with a wild flush mantling her cheek, and a smothered cry of wrath.
The elegant little gentleman clad in the Hungarian velvet costume, beribboned, bejeweled, flaunting with many a badge of mystic significance, got upon his crooked little legs, and held out his white hands dramatically to the flas.h.i.+ng, palpitating, queen-like creature who swept through the great drawing-room to greet him for the first time.
”Chevalier de Calembours! accomplice of Roland Mortlake, I have heard of you before!” she panted, not deigning to touch him.
”Mademoiselle Walsingham, champion of Colonel Brand, all the world has heard of you before!” rasped the bland-faced Hun.
”Why have you come here, heartless man!” cried Margaret.
”To see the dear mademoiselle whose actions so wise, so unselfish, so _heroique_, have won my heart?”
”Am I to accept praise from the enemy of St. Udo Brand? Never! You murdered him among you!”
”Softly, my heroine! The chevalier was not on the field when the admirable colonel was stabbed! _Ma foi!_ he was lying bleeding on his litter amid his Southern friends, who had captured him for the second time. The first, the dear mademoiselle knows, the chance of fortune wooed me to the South; but the second, _mon Dieu!_ no one asked me my will, but they hacked and hewed over my shackled body, and then the South won me from my captors.”
”Sir, I desire to hear nothing of your history. You were paid by the murderer to dog the steps of St. Udo Brand; you were both leagued against him. Had he ever harmed you, chevalier? Was he not too brave to fall by treachery?”
Quite undaunted by her reproaches, M. le Chevalier listened to her pa.s.sionate praise of his quondam comrade with sparkling eyes, and threw up his hands in ecstatic a.s.sent.
”Brave, did mademoiselle say?” he echoed; ”_mon Dieu!_ he was gallant, gay, free-hearted, _helas!_ that the ladies should love such an Apollo.”
”And you betrayed him, knowing him to be all this?” she cried, bitterly.
”_Par la messe!_ mademoiselle is not just!” complained the chevalier, with tears in his eyes. ”I love _mon_ colonel, admire, believe in him; I spit upon Monsieur Mortlake--laugh at, revile him! Mademoiselle must have found out that I obeyed him--never; that I stuck to my colonel only because I love him; and that I left him not until fortune beckoned me away. If he had given me his dear company when I fled to Richmond, he would not have been to-day where he is; but would he? not though I prayed to him with tears in the eyes, with grief in the heart. No, no, he was doomed; he would stay with the Yankees, and--Thoms!”
”Did you not suspect who Thoms was, especially as Mortlake sent him to you?”
”Oh! I was blind. I was bewitched; the wretch was too cunning, mademoiselle. But pray, what has all the cunning ended in? Bah!
simplicity, honesty for me; I still live, and walk abroad, a free man.
But I am a Chevalier of honor. I scorn a crooked policy. When for the second time the South won Calembours, I found that perfidious fortune had changed her mood; from filling my pockets with gold as commissary general, she descended to thrusting me into that unwholesome residence in Richmond, Castle Thunder. All because some head of wood suggested that the Chevalier de Calembours was selling the North to the South, and _vice versa_. But the chevalier is a Knight of Industry as well as of Honor--he ever makes the honey where other bees would but starved carca.s.ses. I make the situation palatable even in Castle Thunder, for there is a blue-coated soldier with me there. He is wounded, I nurse him; he is hungry, I feed him from my wretched pittance; we mingle our tears over the moldy crust and the muddy water--we console each other.
”When he is able to crawl, I file off his chains; together we dig our tunnel through the dungeon floor. We have no tools but we use a broken plate and a rusty key, and--patience. Night and day, mademoiselle, night and day that invalid soldier and I gnaw through the baked earth; the nails are torn from the fingers; see, _ma chere!_ the clothes are worn from the bodies; _mon camerade_ faints often, almost dies; but one day we see the sunny earth come crumbling into our rat-hole. _Mon Dieu!_ we have penetrated beneath the wall--we are free.
”I drag him out that night--I drag him into the woods; he says he will die joyfully a free man--he cannot die a captive. But we do not let him die; we aid him day by day through the dismal swamps, cold, wet, famished, but he lives to reach Was.h.i.+ngton, and he is received in a hospital; while I, _morbleu_, they give me the cold shoulder, they point the finger, they cry, 'Renegade!' My friend whom I have aided, grows worse of his wound, and cannot speak for me; McClellan, Banks, Pope, Stanton, are all down on poor Calembours for past injuries they dream that he has done them with the South. So, mademoiselle must hear that the republican rabble hoot me from their midst with vile names, and hard usage, and ugly threats, just as the graycoats had done in Richmond, because I believe in universal suffrage, and am a mad _cosmopolite_, and see no difference between the greedy North and the hungry South. In vain I confide my need to these dogs, in vain I remind the War Department of past deeds of mine while serving under McClellan. They call my laurels tarnished with treachery, they call my past services canceled by succeeding bribery, they refuse me my little price, and order me to leave their barbaric soil.
”So I turn the back upon the dogs who snarl so loudly over their uninviting bone, and, although the tears gush from the eyes at parting from the dear friend whom I aided, I am forced to leave him behind.
”What though I have thrown behind me an ill.u.s.trious life, t.i.tles, honors, pleasures, for to give these dogs my nameless services?
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