THE MARRIAGE OF THE BRIGADIER
I am speaking, my friends, of days which are long gone by, when I hadscarcely begun to build up that fame which has made my name so familiar.Among the thirty officers of the Hussars of Conflans there was nothingto indicate that I was superior in any way to the others. I can wellimagine how surprised they would all have been had they realized thatyoung Lieutenant Etienne Gerard was destined for so glorious a career,and would live to command a brigade and to receive from the Emperor'sown hands that cross which I can show you any time that you do me thehonour to visit me in my little cottage. You know, do you not, thelittle white-washed cottage with the vine in front, in the field besidethe Garonne?
People have said of me that I have never known what fear was. No doubtyou have heard them say it. For many years, out of a foolish pride, Ihave let the saying pass. And yet now, in my old age, I can afford tobe honest. The brave man dares to be frank. It is only the coward who isafraid to make admissions. So I tell you now that I also am human; thatI also have felt my skin grow cold, and my hair rise; that I have evenknown what it was to run away until my limbs could scarce support me. Itshocks you to hear it? Well, some day it may comfort you, when your owncourage has reached its limits, to know that even Etienne Gerard hasknown what it was to be afraid. I will tell you now how this experiencebefell me, and also how it brought me a wife.
For the moment France was at peace, and we, the Hussars of Conflans,were in camp all that summer a few miles from the town of Les Andelysin Normandy. It is not a very gay place by itself, but we of the LightCavalry make all places gay which we visit, and so we passed our timevery pleasantly. Many years and many scenes have dulled my remembrance,but still the name Les Andelys brings back to me a huge ruined castle,great orchards of apple trees, and above all, a vision of the lovelymaidens of Normandy. They were the very finest of their sex, as we maybe said to have been of ours, and so we were well met in that sweetsunlit summer. Ah, the youth, the beauty, the valour, and then the dull,dead years that blurr them all! There are times when the gloriouspast weighs on my heart like lead. No, sir, no wine can wash away suchthoughts, for they are of the spirit and the soul. It is only the grossbody which responds to wine, but if you offer it for that, then I willnot refuse it.
Now of all the maidens who dwelt in those parts there was one who wasso superior in beauty and in charm that she seemed to be very speciallymarked out for me. Her name was Marie Ravon, and her people, the Ravons,were of yeoman stock who had farmed their own land in those parts sincethe days when Duke William went to England. If I close my eyes now, Isee her as she then was, her cheeks, dusky like moss roses; her hazeleyes, so gentle and yet so full of spirit; her hair of that deepestblack which goes most fitly with poetry and with passion; her finger assupple as a young birch tree in the wind. Ah! how she swayed away fromme when first I laid my arm round it, for she was full of fire andpride, ever evading, ever resisting, fighting to the last that hersurrender might be the more sweet. Out of a hundred and forty women--Butwho can compare where all are so near perfection!
You will wonder why it should be, if this maiden was so beautiful,that I should be left without a rival. There was a very good reason, myfriends, for I so arranged it that my rivals were in the hospital. Therewas Hippolyte Lesoeur, he visited them for two Sundays; but if he lives,I dare swear that he still limps from the bullet which lodges in hisknee. Poor Victor also--up to his death at Austerlitz he wore my mark.Soon it was understood that if I could not win Marie, I should at leasthave a fair field in which to try. It was said in our camp that it wassafer to charge a square of unbroken infantry than to be seen too oftenat the farmhouse of the Ravons.
Now let me be precise for a moment. Did I wish to marry Marie? Ah! myfriends, marriage is not for a Hussar. Today he is in Normandy; tomorrowhe is in the hills of Spain or in the bogs of Poland. What shall he dowith a wife? Would it be fair to either of them? Can it be right thathis courage should be blunted by the thought of the despair which hisdeath would bring, or is it reasonable that she should be left fearinglest every post should bring her the news of irreparable misfortune?A Hussar can but warm himself at the fire, and then hurry onwards, toohappy if he can but pass another fire from which some comfort may come.And Marie, did she wish to marry me? She knew well that when our silvertrumpets blew the march it would be over the grave of our married life.Better far to hold fast to her own people and her own soil, where sheand her husband could dwell for ever amid the rich orchards and withinsight of the great Castle of Le Galliard. Let her remember her Hussar inher dreams, but let her waking days be spent in the world as she findsit. Meanwhile we pushed such thoughts from our minds, and gave ourselvesup to a sweet companionship, each day complete in itself with never athought of the morrow. It is true that there were times when her father,a stout old gentleman with a face like one of his own apples, and hermother, a thin anxious woman of the country, gave me hints that theywould wish to be clearer as to my intentions; but in their hearts theyeach knew well that Etienne Gerard was a man of honour, and that theirdaughter was very safe as well as very happy in his keeping. So thematter stood until the night of which I speak.
It was the Sunday evening, and I had ridden over from the camp. Therewere several of our fellows who were visiting the village, and we allleft our horses at the inn. Thence I had to walk to the Ravons, whichwas only separated by a single very large field extending to the verydoor. I was about to start when the landlord ran after me. "Excuseme, lieutenant," said he, "it is farther by the road, and yet I shouldadvise you to take it."
"It is a mile or more out of my way."
"I know it. But I think that it would be wiser," and he smiled as hespoke.
"And why?" I asked.
"Because," said he, "the English bull is loose in the field."
If it were not for that odious smile, I might have considered it. But tohold a danger over me and then to smile in such a fashion was more thanmy proud temper could bear. I indicated by a gesture what I thought ofthe English bull.
"I will go by the shortest way," said I.
I had no sooner set my foot in the field than I felt that my spirit hadbetrayed me into rashness. It was a very large square field, and as Icame further out into it I felt like the cockle-shell which ventures outfrom land and sees no port save that from which it has issued. There wasa wall on every side of the field save that from which I had come. Infront of me was the farmhouse of the Ravons, with wall extending toright and left. A back door opened upon the field, and there wereseveral windows, but all were barred, as is usual in the Norman farms.I pushed on rapidly to the door, as being the only harbour of safety,walking with dignity as befits a soldier, and yet with such speed asI could summon. From the waist upwards I was unconcerned and evendebonnaire. Below, I was swift and alert.
I had nearly reached the middle of the field when I perceived thecreature. He was rooting about with his fore feet under a large beechtree which lay upon my right hand. I did not turn my head, nor wouldthe bystander have detected that I took notice of him, but my eye waswatching him with anxiety. It may have been that he was in a contentedmood, or it may have been that he was arrested by the nonchalance of mybearing, but he made no movement in my direction. Reassured, I fixed myeyes upon the open window of Marie's bed-chamber, which was immediatelyover the back door, in the hope that those dear, tender, dark eyes,were surveying me from behind the curtains. I flourished my little cane,loitered to pick a primrose, and sang one of our devil-may-care chorusesin order to insult this English beast, and to show my love how littleI cared for danger when it stood between her and me. The creature wasabashed by my fearlessness, and so, pushing open the back door, I wasable to enter the farmhouse in safety and in honour.
And was it not worth the danger? Had all the bulls of Castile guardedthe entrance, would it not still have been worth it? Ah, the hours, thesunny hours, which can never come back, when our youthful feet seemedscarce to touch the ground, and we lived in a sweet dreamland of our
owncreation! She honoured my courage, and she loved me for it. As she laywith her flushed cheek pillowed against the silk of my dolman, lookingup at me with her wondering eyes, shining with love and admiration, shemarvelled at the stories in which I gave her some pictures of the truecharacter of her lover.
"Has your heart never failed you? Have you never known the feeling offear?" she asked. I laughed at such a thought. What place could fearhave in the mind of a Hussar? Young as I was, I had given my proofs.I told her how I had led my squadron into a square of HungarianGrenadiers. She shuddered as she embraced me. I told her also how I hadswum my horse over the Danube at night with a message for Davoust. To befrank, it was not the Danube, nor was it so deep that I was compelled toswim, but when one is twenty and in love, one tells a story as best onecan. Many such stories I told her, while her dear eyes grew more andmore amazed.
"Never in my dreams, Etienne," said she, "did I believe that so brave aman existed. Lucky France that has such a soldier, lucky Marie that hassuch a lover!"
You can think how I flung myself at her feet as I murmured that I wasthe luckiest of all--I who had found some one who could appreciate andunderstand.
It was a charming relationship, too infinitely sweet and delicate forthe interference of coarser minds. But you can understand that theparents imagined that they also had their duty to do. I played dominoeswith the old man, and I wound wool for his wife, and yet they could notbe led to believe that it was from love of them that I came thrice aweek to their farm. For some time an explanation was inevitable, andthat night it came. Marie, in delightful mutiny, was packed off to herroom, and I faced the old people in the parlour as they plied me withquestions upon my prospects and my intentions.
"One way or the other," they said, in their blunt country fashion. "Letus hear that you are betrothed to Marie, or let us never see your faceagain."
I spoke of my honour, my hopes, and my future, but they remainedimmovable upon the present. I pleaded my career, but they in theirselfish way would think of nothing but their daughter. It was indeed adifficult position in which I found myself. On the one hand, I couldnot forsake my Marie; on the other, what would a young Hussar do withmarriage? At last, hard pressed, I begged them to leave the matter, ifit were only for a day.
"I will see Marie," said I, "I will see her without delay. It is herheart and her happiness which come before all else."
They were not satisfied, these grumbling old people, but they couldsay no more. They bade me a short good night and I departed, fullof perplexity, for the inn. I came out by the same door which I hadentered, and I heard them lock and bar it behind me.
I walked across the field lost in thought, with my mind entirely filledwith the arguments of the old people and the skilful replies which Ihad made to them. What should I do? I had promised to see Marie withoutdelay. What should I say to her when I did see her? Would I surrenderto her beauty and turn my back upon my profession? If Etienne Gerard'ssword were turned to a scythe, then indeed it was a bad day for theEmperor and France. Or should I harden my heart and turn away fromMarie? Or was it not possible that all might be reconciled; that I mightbe a happy husband in Normandy but a brave soldier elsewhere? All thesethoughts were buzzing in my head, when a sudden noise made me look up.The moon had come from behind a cloud, and there was the bull before me.
He had seemed a large animal beneath the beech tree, but now he appearedenormous. He was black in colour. His head was held down, and the moonshone upon two menacing and bloodshot eyes. His tail switched swiftlyfrom side to side, and his fore feet dug into the earth. A morehorrible-looking monster was never seen in a nightmare. He was movingslowly and stealthily in my direction.
I glanced behind me, and I found that in my distraction I had comea very long way from the edge of the field. I was more than half-wayacross it. My nearest refuge was the inn, but the bull was between meand it. Perhaps if the creature understood how little I feared him, hewould make way for me. I shrugged my shoulders and made a gesture ofcontempt. I even whistled. The creature thought I called it, for heapproached with alacrity. I kept my face boldly towards him, but Iwalked swiftly backwards. When one is young and active, one can almostrun backwards and yet keep a brave and smiling face to the enemy. As Iran I menaced the animal with my cane. Perhaps it would have beenwiser had I restrained my spirit. He regarded it as a challenge--which,indeed, was the last thing in my mind. It was a misunderstanding, but afatal one. With a snort he raised his tail and charged.
Have you ever seen a bull charge, my friends? It is a strange sight. Youthink, perhaps, that he trots, or even that he gallops. No, it is worsethan this. It is a succession of bounds by which he advances, each moremenacing than the last. I have no fear of anything which man can do.When I deal with man, I feel that the nobility of my own attitude, thegallant ease with which I face him, will in itself go far to disarm him.What he can do, I can do, so why should I fear him? But when it is a tonof enraged beef with which you contend, it is another matter. Youcannot hope to argue, to soften, to conciliate. There is no resistancepossible. My proud assurance was all wasted upon the creature. Inan instant my ready wit had weighed every possible course, and haddetermined that no one, not the Emperor himself, could hold his ground.There was but one course--to fly.
But one may fly in many ways. One may fly with dignity or one may fly inpanic. I fled, I trust, like a soldier. My bearing was superb thoughmy legs moved rapidly. My whole appearance was a protest against theposition in which I was placed. I smiled as I ran--the bitter smile ofthe brave man who mocks his own fate. Had all my comrades surroundedthe field, they could not have thought the less of me when they saw thedisdain with which I avoided the bull.
But here it is that I must make my confession. When once flightcommences, though it be ever so soldierly, panic follows hard upon it.Was it not so with the Guard at Waterloo? So it was that night withEtienne Gerard. After all, there was no one to note my bearing--no onesave this accursed bull. If for a minute I forgot my dignity, who wouldbe the wiser? Every moment the thunder of the hoofs and the horriblesnorts of the monster drew nearer to my heels. Horror filled me at thethought of so ignoble a death. The brutal rage of the creature sent achill to my heart. In an instant everything was forgotten. There werein the world but two creatures, the bull and I--he trying to kill me, Istriving to escape. I put down my head and I ran--I ran for my life.
It was for the house of the Ravons that I raced. But even as I reachedit, it flashed into my mind that there was no refuge for me there. Thedoor was locked. The lower windows were barred. The wall was high uponeither side. And the bull was nearer me with every stride. But oh, myfriends, it is at that supreme moment of danger that Etienne Gerardhas ever risen to his height. There was one path to safety, and in aninstant I had chosen it.
I have said that the window of Marie's bedroom was above the door. Thecurtains were closed, but the folding sides were thrown open, and a lampburned in the room. Young and active, I felt that I could spring highenough to reach the edge of the window sill and to draw myself outof danger. The monster was within touch of me as I sprang. Had I beenunaided, I should have done what I had planned. But even as in a superbeffort I rose from the earth he butted me into the air. I shot throughthe curtains as if I had been fired from a gun, and I dropped upon myhands and knees in the centre of the room.
There was, as it appears, a bed in the window, but I had passed overit in safety. As I staggered to my feet I turned towards it inconsternation, but it was empty. My Marie sat in a low chair in thecorner of the room, and her flushed cheeks showed that she had beenweeping. No doubt her parents had given her some account of what hadpassed between us. She was too amazed to move, and could only sitlooking at me with her mouth open.
"Etienne!" she gasped. "Etienne!"
In an instant I was as full of resource as ever. There was but onecourse for a gentleman, and I took it.
"Marie," I cried, "forgive, oh forgive the abruptness of my return!Marie, I have seen your parents t
onight. I could not return to the campwithout asking you whether you will make me for ever happy by promisingto be my wife?"
It was long before she could speak, so great was her amazement. Thenevery emotion was swept away in the one great flood of her admiration.
"Oh, Etienne! my wonderful Etienne!" she cried, her arms round my neck."Was ever such love! Was ever such a man! As you stand there, white andtrembling with passion, you seem to me the very hero of my dreams. Howhard you breathe, my love, and what a spring it must have been whichbrought you to my arms! At the instant that you came, I heard the trampof your war-horse without."
There was nothing more to explain, and when one is newly betrothed, onefinds other uses for one's lips. But there was a scurry in the passageand a pounding at the panels. At the crash of my arrival the old folkhad rushed to the cellar to see if the great cider cask had toppled offthe trestles, but now they were back and eager for admittance. I flungopen the door, and stood with Marie's hand in mine.
"Behold your son!" I said.
Ah, the joy which I had brought to that humble household! It warms myheart still when I think of it. It did not seem too strange to themthat I should fly in through the window, for who should be a hot-headedsuitor if it is not a gallant Hussar? And if the door be locked, thenwhat way is there but the window? Once more we assembled all four inthe parlour, while the cobwebbed bottle was brought up and the ancientglories of the House of Ravon were unrolled before me. Once more I seethe heavy-raftered room, the two old smiling faces, the golden circleof the lamp-light, and she, my Marie, the bride of my youth, won sostrangely, and kept for so short a time.
It was late when we parted. The old man came with me into the hall.
"You can go by the front door or the back," said he. "The back way isthe shorter."
"I think that I will take the front way," I answered. "It may be a bitlonger, but it will give me the more time to think of Marie."