CHAPTER XVI
THE COMING OF ALIDA
It was the evening of the 27th of January, and we were back in Autun.The Milanese were later than most in getting inside the gates. We hadpushed far forward after the retreating Pomeranians, and now our lot wasto bivouac in the square. The houses were full, and the churches withtheir damp floors did not tempt us. Besides, we were full of the glow ofvictory, and for that night a camp-fire in the middle of the squaresatisfied us. The evening had fallen mild and still--clear too, thoughrapidly growing misty under the red loom of camp-fire smoke. There wasnot much open rejoicing. The French would not believe that the end hadcome, and the Italians, still flushed with victory, felt that they hadcome a long way to do but little. Still, as we lay close to ourcamp-fires or threshed our arms about to keep warm, we could not keepout of our minds the hope of better days. I know not of what HughDeventer thought, but for me I was talking to Rhoda Polly, or lazilysteering the ferry-boat across the river while before me Jeanne Felixbent lissomly to the oars. It was clear that I had not yet reached theage of the grand expulsive passion which ignores partage. Indeed, givena temperament like mine, no youth is worth his salt who at twenty-onecannot drive several teams abreast.
Hugh and I put in the night wandering up and down, rendered restless bythe thoughts of peace, and unable to sleep about the camp-fires beforewhich we had spread our blankets. Upon the advice of a stranger in adoorway we penetrated into a school, and from the first class-roombrought out benches and desks enough to feed our camp-fires all night inthe square of Autun. With a stroke or two of the axe Hugh smashed theseacross the middle, and we soon built up such a range of blaze that theheat drove back the sleepers, some of whom, caught betwixt two, were inperil of being roasted. Those who did not waken we dragged off by theshoulders, usually to be soundly cursed for our officiousness. Then wewent back to find the man who had told us of the school-house treasure.He was standing at his door grimly regarding our bonfires. We thankedhim courteously in the name of the regiment.
"At least the Jesuits will teach no more lies to poor children on thosebenches," he said. "You are true Garibaldians, though you do speakFrench like Linn and myself!"
He was a tall man with a grey beard that came half-way to his waistbelt,and when he invited us in we were wondering who Linn might be.
We found ourselves in a comfortable little kitchen, floored with redbrick. On the walls, trophies of matchlocks and Dervish swords on aground of palm leaves and alfa grass told us that we were in thedwelling of one who in his day had made the campaign of the Atlas.
Over the mantelshelf, and framed in oak in a rough but artistic manner,was a document which attracted me. One side was written in Arabic of thedashing and ornamental sort. I had seen many such in my father'slibrary. The other side was ruled with a pencil, and there the writingwas that of a schoolboy just beyond the stage of pot-hooks.
"Is it permitted to read?" I asked, for my curiosity was great.
The man with the long beard was talking to Hugh, but he turned to mewith a courteous wave of the hand, and said with a ceremony that wasnever learned in Autun:
"Sir, this house and all that it contains are at your service."
I followed the ill-traced letters of the translation. It was dated "Frommy prison-house, in the fortress-city called Amboise," and was signed"Sheik Abd-el-Kader." It contained, after the usual compliments,greetings and affection to the brave fellow soldier and commander of hisforces, Keller Bey--with a congratulation on his release fromimprisonment.
So it became immediately evident to me that our host had indeed made thecampaign of the Atlas, but that he had fought against and not for thetricolour.
He seemed to watch out of the corner of his eye the effect of the framedcertificate.
"You are English," he said, "and though you have stolen much yourselves,you can still feel for a great man defending his country, and notcondemn the little man who helped him."
"You are Keller Bey?" I asked, pointing to the name on the much crumpledsheet.
"I am Keller," he said, "Keller grown old and staid. Linn keeps me athome. She had the devil's own job ere she got me buckled down, but shedid it, and now there is only Linn and our daughter Alida for me tothink about."
And in the silence of the house he lifted his voice and called aloud for"Linn."
Presently we heard footsteps coming swiftly along the passage which ledfrom the inner rooms. A woman entered--tall, gaunt, and angular. Heraspect was severe to the borders of being forbidding, and she frownedupon us as Keller, ex-officer of Abd-el-Kader, made some briefintroduction.
But the smile with which she held out her hand was transfiguring. Theface which had been almost ugly suddenly became attractive and evenfascinating. One saw that her eyes were of forget-me-not blue, and whenshe said "You are welcome" to one and the other of us, it was clear thatLinn Keller possessed gifts of attraction which do not depend upon ageor external beauty.
She was taller than her husband, but awkward and angular in hermovement. She walked with a curious shuffle as if the slipper on onefoot was always on the point of coming off, yet--in a moment we foundourselves at home with her, and in five minutes we were calling her"Linn" just as her husband had done. The assurance of youth can surelyno farther go.
The lamp on the mantelpiece was of an Oriental design. Curtains and rugswere abundantly scattered about, and in one corner a looped-up hangingshowed an oblong bath sunk in the tiled floor.
"This house is our own," said Linn; "we have arranged some things tosuit ourselves, having been so long abroad that it seems impossible todo without them. But at any rate you must stay and see Alida. You mustrise early, for she has to go out to give her lessons. Alida is ateacher of music. We have put everything except this house and aprovision for our old age into Alida's education."
I explained to the pair that we would indeed be most grateful for thewarmth and refuge of the kitchen, but that if that were inconvenient wecould return at any hour of the morning, always provided the regimentdid not march.
"They are fine lads, eh, Linn?" said Keller, turning to his wife. "Canwe not do something better for them than the kitchen floor?"
I assured them that we asked no more than permission to stretchourselves on a couple of rugs with knapsacks beneath our heads. ButLinn's housewifery instinct was roused. She took us to a room on theentresol, with two beds, and even insisted on helping us off with ourboots. There we should sleep, and she would keep an eye on the regiment,and have us on parade in good time. As for her she was a barrack's childand understood such things. Besides, Keller and she were back andforward all night like the Arabs among whom they had lived.
Never had the touch of sheets felt more caressing. Never did sleep fallupon us so deep and dreamless as when our heads touched the pillow. Itwas still dark when we were awakened by a light touch on the shoulder,and sitting up each on an elbow we beheld Linn stalking about the roomand putting back our uniforms all carefully brushed and folded. A candlestood on a stand, and farther back a gigantic Linn was grotesquelyshadowed upon the walls.
"Breakfast is ready," she said, when we had somewhat got over our firstblankness. "You have a good hour before you, and if you dress now youwill have time to breakfast, and besides you shall see Alida."
I do not know whether it was the breakfast or the prospect of Alida seenin the flesh which aroused us, but no sooner was the door closed behindLinn's back than we flung ourselves into our uniforms with that orderedrapidity which only a soldier understands.
Everything we touched had been warmed and cared for with thataffectionate motherliness which looked out of Linn's eyes. We had neverexperienced any kindness like this before, and it seemed the moremarvellous that by merely putting aside the blinds of our sleeping-roomwe could see our comrades still lying about the fires, and the cooks forthe week beginning with their bayonet butts to crush and grind theberries for the morning coffee.
Yonder were Victor Dor and Marius Girr looking down at our sleep
ingplaces, and presently beginning to roll up our blankets. It seemed ashame that we should have passed the night between sheets, thus baselyabandoning our comrades among the trampled snow of the market square ofAutun.
But there interposed between them and us two necessities: a "made"breakfast which we must eat--eat till we could eat no more, and--we mustsee Alida Keller, daughter of the Atlas "goums."
I don't know what Hugh expected. But for myself I mingled Linn and theideal music mistress. Tall, forceful, and striding she must be, withenergy to bring into such evident subjection Keller Bey and his wife.Something younger and less weather-beaten than Linn, of course--perhapswith a certain passing glow of good looks which would fade out like themist bloom upon the peach trees in the frost of April.
But when at last she came in, and stood a moment to give a hand to eachof us, before nestling into her familiar corner of a low old Orientalcouch--I think both our hearts cried out at the same moment: "Oh, theperfect creature!"
She was not like Linn in the least. Her father still less resembled her.It is almost impossible to describe this girl of the South, neverthelessI can but try, Alida Keller was little, but shaped with such delicateperfection that she gave the impression of a greater height. Her skinwas of a creamy duskiness through which went and came colour now asfaint as that of a rose leaf, which anon flamed out into a vivid red,the colour of the pomegranate flower.
Her father and Linn served her like a princess, and to this she seemedaccustomed, for except that she patted Linn's hand, or with a smile said"Petit Pere" to her father, she seemed unconscious of their attentions.
As for Hugh and myself, I declare that we were completely cheated out ofthat admirable breakfast. We had meant to square our elbows, grasp ourknives and forks, and fall on. We had rank appetites, sharpened withfighting and hard fare, but the mere presence of Alida cut at the rootsof hunger as a scythe cuts down reeds.
We simply sat and gazed at her. She was not in the least put out, atewell and daintily, and looked at us impartially from under her darklashes. For the instant--I will not admit more--I forgot Rhoda Polly andJeanne Felix.
But I am not much to be blamed. For the burden of the conversation fellon me. Hugh Deventer could only sit and gape, lifting the same morselhalf a dozen times to his mouth without once getting it safely in. Heuttered not a word, save sometimes in answer to a direct question hewould produce a "yes" or "no," so jerky and mechanical that I wasobliged to kick his shins under the table to keep him aware of himself.
Of this Keller and Linn saw nothing. They were all eyes and ears forAlida, and had not a glance for us. The table was covered--we weresoldiers and could help ourselves. Meantime I was kept busy answeringthe questions of Alida. She spoke in a low and thrilling contralto, avoice that had a _ron-ron_ in it, something like the pulsing whisper ofa bell after it has been rung in a church tower.
How had we left school? We must tell her. Tell her I did, describing asvividly as possible the laundry and the secret way out upon the road,then the good-bye call at my father's house, and our escape from thesentinel at the bridge end. It was lovely to see the cheeks of Alida nowgoing pale now flaming scarlet, and I admit that I made the most of myopportunity. I passed rapidly over the troubles in Aramon-les-Ateliers,both because I knew such things could not interest Alida Keller--also(and chiefly) because I gathered that Keller and Linn would bealtogether on the side of the workmen, and I did not feel called upon todefend the difficult position of Dennis Deventer as Manager of the SmallArms Factory--at least not just then.
Our later adventures with the transport train, our march by night, ourincorporation in the Garibaldi army, and the many skirmishes culminatingin the big fight when we had defeated the Prussians, were all easy totell--and I had scarcely finished when Linn came in with the news thatthe regiments were forming up for roll-call.
We had hardly time to promise to come back before we were equipped andpushed out by Linn with well-plenished haversacks. We scurried acrossthe square and appeared in our places out of nowhere in particular, tothe great astonishment of Victor and Marius, who hastily arranged ourblankets across our shoulders so that we might pass inspection.
"You English fear nothing, I know," said Victor Dor, "but you almost ranthings a trifle fine this morning. See yonder!"
He pointed with a finger towards a narrow street which debouched intothe upper end of the Market Square. At first we could see nothing--andthen--lo, the ramshackle barouche, and the two fatigued white horses ofthe General himself!
"_Garibaldi! Garibaldi!_"
The "Children" of the Milanese regiment could hardly keep their lines.We front-rank men felt an impulse as if someone were pushing us frombehind. It was the concentred yearning of a thousand men.
Our officers kept whispering to us, "Stand firm. Not just now. He willreturn. See how the Tanara regiment is standing--would you have them putus to shame before our father?" So the Milanese men stood quivering eachlike a tuning-fork while their General passed by. Bordone was with him,and Ricciotti rode on the side farthest from the lines. I saw himclearly, and noted the waxen pallor of his face. But his eye was stillbright, and the smile kindly on his lips as he passed down the lines. Itwas the face of a philosopher, a thinker, or a prophet, rather than thatof the greatest leader of irregular troops the world had ever seen. Butwhen the carriage turned at the end of the square, the men could nolonger be held. They surrounded the old barouche, hanging round it inclusters, like grapes, or more exactly like bees about their queen inher summer flight. Hugh Deventer and I stood a little back, for we feltthat this was, as one might say, a family matter, and no concern ofours. But Ricciotti spied us out, and putting his horse into the press,brought us forward to introduce us personally to his father.
The old man extended his hand which, instead of kissing, we shook in theEnglish fashion. The difference pleased him.
"It is like Sicily to see you here. I had once over eight hundred ofyou, and not a white feather or a faint heart among them all. I trustedthem as I trusted my children. They were as my children. Well may I loveEngland. They fought for me seeking no reward, and afterwards when therewas talk of expelling me, they bought my island and gave it to me, sothat none could take it away for ever."
He moved on, nodding his head and smiling, while Bordone glooming on theseat opposite seemed vastly relieved. Ricciotti was in high spirits.
"The Chief is better to-day than I have seen him for years," he confidedto us. "He said we had done well against Manteuffel--yes, even I, hisson whom he never praises."
Victor Dor and Marius Girr came and shook hands with us repeatedly. Itwas an honour to the company that the General had so distinguished us,and would we tell them what he had said--yes, every word.
From their archway Keller and Linn had beheld, one standing on eitherside of the door, and a slight vibration of the window curtainssuggested that perhaps Alida herself was not wholly without curiosity.
Then the troops were dismissed. The town was placarded with the whiteoblongs reserved for Government proclamations. The Armistice (they said)had been concluded with the Emperor of Germany, but in the meantime itsarmy of the Vosges was to remain under arms for the reason that poorBourbaki's army of the East was excepted from the cessation ofhostilities. At first no one could imagine why, because it was nowlittle more than a broken troop, hardly able to fight a rearguardaction, and ready to be driven through the perishing cold of themountain passes to surrender to a Swiss colonel beyond the frontier.Later the truth appeared. By their own politicians the army of the Easthad been wholly overlooked and forgotten! And Bismarck, irritated by thestubborn resistance of Denfert at Belfort, was willing to take advantageof this fact to overrun two additional French departments.
Thus it came to pass that we remained full three weeks more kicking ourheels in Autun. We were allowed to make our own arrangements for_billets de logement_, which carried us naturally to the house in thesquare inhabited by Keller Bey, his wife Linn, and--Alida.
The
officers all knew that the war was over and chafed at the delay. SoI think did most of the soldiers excepting ourselves. Hugh and I alonewere content, of all the army of the Vosges encamped in and about Autun.