CHAPTER XV.
The regiment was standing at order arms at the side of a lane, waitingfor the command to march, when suddenly the youth remembered the littlepacket enwrapped in a faded yellow envelope which the loud youngsoldier with lugubrious words had intrusted to him. It made him start.He uttered an exclamation and turned toward his comrade.
"Wilson!"
"What?"
His friend, at his side in the ranks, was thoughtfully staring down theroad. From some cause his expression was at that moment very meek. Theyouth, regarding him with sidelong glances, felt impelled to change hispurpose. "Oh, nothing," he said.
His friend turned his head in some surprise, "Why, what was yeh goin't' say?"
"Oh, nothing," repeated the youth.
He resolved not to deal the little blow. It was sufficient that thefact made him glad. It was not necessary to knock his friend on thehead with the misguided packet.
He had been possessed of much fear of his friend, for he saw how easilyquestionings could make holes in his feelings. Lately, he had assuredhimself that the altered comrade would not tantalize him with apersistent curiosity, but he felt certain that during the first periodof leisure his friend would ask him to relate his adventures of theprevious day.
He now rejoiced in the possession of a small weapon with which he couldprostrate his comrade at the first signs of a cross-examination. Hewas master. It would now be he who could laugh and shoot the shafts ofderision.
The friend had, in a weak hour, spoken with sobs of his own death. Hehad delivered a melancholy oration previous to his funeral, and haddoubtless in the packet of letters, presented various keepsakes torelatives. But he had not died, and thus he had delivered himself intothe hands of the youth.
The latter felt immensely superior to his friend, but he inclined tocondescension. He adopted toward him an air of patronizing good humor.
His self-pride was now entirely restored. In the shade of itsflourishing growth he stood with braced and self-confident legs, andsince nothing could now be discovered he did not shrink from anencounter with the eyes of judges, and allowed no thoughts of his ownto keep him from an attitude of manfulness. He had performed hismistakes in the dark, so he was still a man.
Indeed, when he remembered his fortunes of yesterday, and looked atthem from a distance he began to see something fine there. He hadlicense to be pompous and veteranlike.
His panting agonies of the past he put out of his sight.
In the present, he declared to himself that it was only the doomed andthe damned who roared with sincerity at circumstance. Few but theyever did it. A man with a full stomach and the respect of his fellowshad no business to scold about anything that he might think to be wrongin the ways of the universe, or even with the ways of society. Let theunfortunates rail; the others may play marbles.
He did not give a great deal of thought to these battles that laydirectly before him. It was not essential that he should plan his waysin regard to them. He had been taught that many obligations of a lifewere easily avoided. The lessons of yesterday had been thatretribution was a laggard and blind. With these facts before him hedid not deem it necessary that he should become feverish over thepossibilities of the ensuing twenty-four hours. He could leave much tochance. Besides, a faith in himself had secretly blossomed. There wasa little flower of confidence growing within him. He was now a man ofexperience. He had been out among the dragons, he said, and he assuredhimself that they were not so hideous as he had imagined them. Also,they were inaccurate; they did not sting with precision. A stout heartoften defied, and defying, escaped.
And, furthermore, how could they kill him who was the chosen of godsand doomed to greatness?
He remembered how some of the men had run from the battle. As herecalled their terror-struck faces he felt a scorn for them. They hadsurely been more fleet and more wild than was absolutely necessary.They were weak mortals. As for himself, he had fled with discretion anddignity.
He was aroused from this reverie by his friend, who, having hitchedabout nervously and blinked at the trees for a time, suddenly coughedin an introductory way, and spoke.
"Fleming!"
"What?"
The friend put his hand up to his mouth and coughed again. He fidgetedin his jacket.
"Well," he gulped, at last, "I guess yeh might as well give me backthem letters." Dark, prickling blood had flushed into his cheeks andbrow.
"All right, Wilson," said the youth. He loosened two buttons of hiscoat, thrust in his hand, and brought forth the packet. As he extendedit to his friend the latter's face was turned from him.
He had been slow in the act of producing the packet because during ithe had been trying to invent a remarkable comment upon the affair. Hecould conjure nothing of sufficient point. He was compelled to allowhis friend to escape unmolested with his packet. And for this he tookunto himself considerable credit. It was a generous thing.
His friend at his side seemed suffering great shame. As hecontemplated him, the youth felt his heart grow more strong and stout.He had never been compelled to blush in such manner for his acts; hewas an individual of extraordinary virtues.
He reflected, with condescending pity: "Too bad! Too bad! The poordevil, it makes him feel tough!"
After this incident, and as he reviewed the battle pictures he hadseen, he felt quite competent to return home and make the hearts of thepeople glow with stories of war. He could see himself in a room ofwarm tints telling tales to listeners. He could exhibit laurels. Theywere insignificant; still, in a district where laurels were infrequent,they might shine.
He saw his gaping audience picturing him as the central figure inblazing scenes. And he imagined the consternation and the ejaculationsof his mother and the young lady at the seminary as they drank hisrecitals. Their vague feminine formula for beloved ones doing bravedeeds on the field of battle without risk of life would be destroyed.