Part 57 (2/2)

'Let me rather recommend Monsieur le Capitaine to try this,' said the Vivandiere, who, unperceived by me, was all this while grilling the half of a _poulet_ over the embers.

There was something in the kindness of the act, coupled as it was with an air of graceful courtesy, that touched me; so, smothering all my regretful thoughts at my mishap, I summoned up my best bow and my best French to acknowledge the civility, and the moment after was seated on the gra.s.s beside Mademoiselle Annette, discussing my supper with the appet.i.te of a man whose sorrows were far inferior to his hunger.

As the moon rose, the party, who evidently had been waiting for some others they expected, made preparations for continuing their journey, the first of which consisted in changing the corporal's pack and equipments to the back of my English thoroughbred, his own meagre and raw-boned quadruped being destined for me. Up to this instant the thought of escape had never left my mind. I knew I could calculate on the speed of my horse; I had had some trials of his endurance, and the only thing was to obtain such a start as might carry me out of bullet range at once, and all was safe. Now this last hope deserted me, as I beheld the miserable hack to which I was condemned; and yet, poignant as this feeling was--shall I confess it?--it was inferior in its pain to the sensation I experienced as I saw the rude French soldier, with clumsy jack-boots and heavy hand, curvetting about upon my mettlesome charger, and exhibiting his paces for the amus.e.m.e.nt of his companions.

The order was now given to mount, and I took my place in the middle file--the dragoons on either side of me having unslung their carbines, and given me laughingly to understand that I was to be made a riddle of if I attempted an escape.

The long months of captivity that followed have, somehow, I cannot at all explain why, left no such deep impression on my mind as the simple events of that night. I remember it still like a thing of yesterday. We travelled along the crest of a mountain, the valley lying in deep, dark shadow beneath; the moon shone brightly out upon the grey granite rocks beside us; our pace was sometimes pushed to a fast trot, and then relaxed to a walk, the better, as it appeared to me, to indulge the conversational tastes of my escort than for any other reason. Their spirits never flagged for a moment; some jest or story was ever going forward--some anecdote of the campaign, or some love adventure, of which the narrator was the hero, commented on by all in turn with a degree of sharp wit and ready repartee that greatly surprised me. In all these narratives Mademoiselle played a prominent part, being invariably referred to for any explanation which the difficulties of female character seemed to require, her opinion on such points being always regarded as conclusive. At times, too, they would break forth into some rude hussar song, some regular specimen of camp lyric poetry, each verse being sung by a different individual, and chorussed by the whole party in common. I have said that these trifling details have left a deep impression behind them. Stranger still, one of those wild strains haunts my memory yet; and strikingly ill.u.s.trative as it is, not only of those songs in general but of that peculiar mixture of levity and pathos, of reckless heartlessness and deep feeling so eminently French, I cannot help giving it to my reader. It represents the last love-letter of a soldier to his mistress, and runs thus:--

LE DERNIER ADIEU DU SOLDAT

I

'Rose, l'intention d'la presente Est de t' informer d'ma sante.

L'armee francaise est triomphante, Et moi j'ai l'bras gauche emporte.

Nous avons eu d'grands avantages; La mitraille m'a brise les os, Nous avons pris arm's et baggages; Pour ma part j'ai deux bals dans l'dos.

II

'J' suis a l'hopital d'ou je pense Partir bientot pour chez les morts.

J' t'envois dix francs qu' celui qui me panse M'a donnes pour avoir mon corps.

Je me suis dit puisq'il faut que je file, Et que ma Rose perd son epouseur, ca fait que je mourrai plus tranquille D'savoir que j'lui laiss' ma valeur.

III

'Lorsque j'ai quitte ma vieil l'mere, Elle s'expirait sensiblement; A rarrivee d'ma lettre j'espere Qu'ell' sera morte entierement; Car si la pauvre femme est guerite Elle est si bonne qu'elle est dans le cas De s' faire mourir de mort subite A la nouvelle de mon trepas.

IV

'Je te recommand' bien, ma p't.i.t' Rose, Mon bon chien; ne l'abandonn' pas; Surtout ne lui dis pas la chose Qui fait qu'il ne me reverra pas-- Lui qu' je suis sur se fait une fete De me voir rev'nir caporal; Il va pleurer comme une bete, En apprenant mon sort fatal.

V

'Quoiqu' ca c'est quelqu' chose qui m'enrage D'etre fait mourir loin du pays-- Au moins quand on meurt au village, On peut dire bonsoir aux amis, On a sa place derriere l'eglise On a son nom sur un' croix de bois, Et puis on esper' qu' la payse Viendra pour priere quelque fois.

VI

'Adieu, Rose I adieu! du courage!

A nous r'voir il n' faut plus songer; Car au regiment ou je m'engage On ne vous accorde pas de conge.

Via tout qui tourne =! j' n'y vois goutte!

Ah, c'est fini! j' sens que j' m'en vas; J' viens de recevoir ma feuill' de route; Adieu t Rose, adieu! n' m'oubli' pas.'

Fatigue and weariness, that seemed never to weigh upon my companions, more than once pressed heavily on me. As I awoke from a short and fitful slumber the same song continued; for having begun it, somehow it appeared to possess such a charm for them they could not cease singing, and the

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