Chapter VII: Part 7

"Madame," he said, "will you remain here with Mademoiselle? Be seated; take up your needle-work; try to look as though there were nothing to fear."

"How can I? how can I? when every moment I fear to see my house in flames."

"Mamma," said Adele, "it is necessary. Monsieur is planning to save us; we must help him. Come, I will fetch your spinning-wheel. Monsieur, we will do our best, I give my promise."

"Thank you, Mademoiselle! When the French arrive, an officer will enter; I will bring him in here; show no concern; leave the rest to me."

He went out, sent into the woods all the men who were still about the house save two of the dragoons, whom he placed in a cloak-room off the hall. Then he ran up again to the roof.

Looking eagerly down the road, he caught sight of four horsemen approaching at a trot. They were about a mile away. Beyond them the road was concealed from view by a clump of trees. He saw at a glance that Jacques had fulfilled his instructions to the letter. Where half an hour before had been a bare field there was now what appeared to be a broad lake, with a solitary punt floating at about the middle of its surface. Scanning the boundaries of the estate he failed to descry a single human figure. He drew a long breath; all his preparations were complete; what would be the outcome?

The four riders were drawing nearer, and behind them he now saw the helmets and lances of the main body. They were as yet too far away for him to estimate their number. Taking care to keep out of sight himself, he watched the patrol of four, and saw two of them dismount at the old barn and enter.

"They have left Monsieur de Polignac for the present," he said to himself. "I wonder why."

After a few minutes the two horsemen emerged from the building, remounted, and rode on with their companions. Then Harry slipped down the stairs, instructed old Jean, who was trembling in the hall, to conduct to the reception-room any soldier who came to the door, and then walked quietly in and rejoined the ladies.

"They are coming?" said Adele.

"Yes. They will be here in a minute."

Madame de Vaudrey gave a gasp and let her hands fall to her sides. Adele jumped up, slipped a skein of wool over her mother's hands, sat on a stool opposite her, and began to wind the wool into a ball. A few seconds later the clatter of hoofs and the clank of sabres came from without. Then a heavy tread was heard in the hall, and a loud voice called for the master of the house. There was a moment's pause; Jean opened the door, stood on one side, and in a quavering voice announced:

"Madame, Monsieur demande----"

His voice broke, he could say no more. The ladies looked up, Madame de Vaudrey with pale cheeks and twitching lips, Adele with unmoved countenance and stony stare. After one glance she placidly resumed her winding; Harry, with his hands in his pockets, strolled over from the window.

"Well, my man, what do you want?" he said.

The sergeant involuntarily saluted. He looked by no means comfortable. His eyes went from one to another of the silent group.

"Monsieur--Mesdames----" he began; then, recovering his self-possession and putting on a swaggering air, he continued: "To resist is vain. The commandant will decide. I have warned you, Mesdames--Monsieur."

"It is very good of you," said Harry blandly. "Your boots are marking the carpet; perhaps you will wait outside."

The man's cheeks purpled; without another word he abruptly turned and went out. At the front door he stationed two of his companions, and rode back to meet the advancing troop, the sounds of whose approach were now echoed from the surrounding woods. From the window Harry saw the sergeant make his report to the officer at their head. The commandant smiled and rode on. Two minutes later his spurs rang on the stone steps, and Jean showed him into the room.

"Madame, voila encore un visiteur."

In obedience to a hint from Adele, Madame de Vaudrey rose and made a curtsy. Harry smiled as he saw Adele's low mocking obeisance. The officer doffed his cocked hat, laid it with both hands upon his heart, and bowed.

"Madame--Mademoiselle--Monsieur," he said.

He was a tall, stout, florid man of some forty years, with large nose and bloated cheeks. His costume was very rich, plentifully bedecked with gold lace and decorations, spick and span in all its appointments. "More like a courtier than a soldier," was Harry's first impression. His few words of salutation had been uttered in a strong German accent.

"Madame, Monsieur," he said, "I have the honour to be a colonel of dragoons in the service of his highness the Elector of Cologne, who, as you are doubtless aware, is in alliance with His Majesty of France. I regret exceedingly to have to discommode you; it is a painful duty; but what would you?--war is war. My duty, Madame, Monsieur, is to levy contributions on the enemy's country. Alas! that I am obliged to treat you, Madame, Monsieur, Mademoiselle, as enemies, but duty is duty. Not for all the world would I render it more disagreeable than necessary to such charming ladies, and to your excellent son, Madame; but I must request you to hand over to me five thousand florins--that, I am sure, you will regard as a most modest estimate of the value of your delightful house. I regret that I can allow only five minutes for the completion of this little transaction; in five minutes, Madame, Monsieur, with five thousand florins I pass on with my men. It pains me to say it, but if the money, or its equivalent--in plate or jewels, Madame, what you please--is not forthcoming within five minutes, I must with the very greatest regret take what I can find and burn the place. The notice is short, it is true; but Madame will understand; we soldiers have no time to spare, and my orders are positive; every house that is not ransomed is to be burned. Ah!" he ejaculated as he caught sight through the window of smoke in the distance, "I fear my men have already set fire to your barn. It is an excess of zeal, but, as the proverb says, the appetite grows with eating; we have had to light many such bonfires of late!"

This speech had been delivered with the greatest deference. At its conclusion the colonel lugged out a big timepiece, and held it open in his left hand.

"From now five minutes, Madame, Monsieur."

Madame de Vaudrey had listened with terror in her eyes. She was beginning to speak, but Adele called suddenly "Mamma!" in a warning tone, and the lady sank back in her chair, looking at Harry as he advanced a step or two towards the officer. Harry's throat felt somewhat dry; his heart was thumping unpleasantly; but he was to all appearance perfectly self-possessed as he said:

"Mademoiselle, will you see what can be done?" adding in an undertone the two words, "the flag!"

Adele nodded.

"Pardon, Monsieur." She curtsied to the officer as she went past him into the hall.

"Before discussing the amount of our contribution, Monsieur le Colonel," said Harry, "may I enquire by what right you make this demand?"

The officer looked him up and down.

"Certainly, you may enquire, Monsieur. I answer: by the right of a hundred sabres, and the practice of war. In my turn, may I beg of you to let this explanation suffice. Time presses. But for the presence of Madame"--he bowed to Madame de Vaudrey--"I should have regarded your question as a mere impertinence, and treated it--and you--accordingly."

Madame de Vaudrey looked anxiously from one to the other, and heaved a sigh of relief as Adele returned and resumed her seat by her mother's side.

"I marvel, Monsieur," said Harry, after a quick exchange of glances with the younger lady, "that a soldier of your rank and experience, acquainted with the practice of war, should, in your unfortunate position, permit himself such language."

"Comment! My unfortunate position!" The big man swelled, his red cheeks empurpled. Turning to the ladies he said: "Is the young man mad?"

"You shall judge, Monsieur," said Harry quietly. "Do me the favour to place yourself at the window."

He had just caught sight of one of the colonel's dragoons galloping up the drive towards the house.

"That is one of your hundred sabres, I presume. He is hastening to inform you that he has met Dutch troops belonging to General van Santen half a mile up the road. In the other direction--this way, Monsieur--you can just see our men barring your retreat. You observed, no doubt, a canal on your left as you rode along; it is twenty feet deep; and if you will condescend to come to the back windows"--the captain followed him as in a daze--"you will see a large Dutch force occupying yonder woods, which, save the lake on our right, are your only line of retreat."

The colonel's astonishment was no greater than Madame de Vaudrey's. She rose from her chair and moved towards the window, but was checked by Adele's restraining hand. The girl's eyes were shining, a spot of red burned on either cheek. The colonel stared and stared at Harry, who stood with a slight smile upon his lips, at the ladies, at the figures which appeared among the trees beyond the wall--heads and shoulders, with cocked hats and red collars, and at every shoulder a musket.

"Comment! comment!" he spluttered; then without another word he hurried from the room, followed by Harry, just in time to meet the dragoon at the outer door. The man saluted.

"Mon Colonel," he said in a fluster, "there is a barricade at the bend in the road half a mile beyond us held by Dutch troops. My comrade Gustave was knocked off his horse by----"

"Donnerwetter!" cried the colonel, relapsing into his native language. He sprang heavily into his saddle on the charger held in waiting by one of his troopers.

"I suppose, Monsieur le Colonel," said Harry carelessly at his elbow, "you are counting the cost of resistance?"

The officer was looking anxiously and indecisively about him, clearly at a loss what course to take, but as clearly eager to make a fight of it.

"I must warn you, Monsieur," added Harry, "that the least resistance will rob you of all chance of quarter. The whole countryside is roused to fury by the news of your exploits. My general has with him not only his own men but a large force of peasants from the villages. If it comes to a fight, he may not have the power, even if he had the inclination, to protect you from their vengeance. They are barbarous in their methods, these peasants; but then, as you know, Monsieur, they have been provoked."

At this moment there was a sharp report. A cornet of the French horse, seeing the barricade of carts suddenly run across the road by the barn, had sent a party of his men back to investigate. One of the troopers as they approached was shot from behind the barricade and fell from his horse. The echo of the shot had hardly died away when there came two reports from the barricade up the road, accompanied by a faint shout. The colonel gathered up the reins; a dragoon came galloping up the drive crying:

"Mon Colonel, we are surrounded!"

"You see, Monsieur," continued Harry, "you are in a ring fence. It is for you to make your choice, and at once, between surrender and--annihilation."

Harry had not misjudged his man. Utterly bewildered, the colonel gazed, like a caged animal, helplessly around him. At the end of the drive his men could be seen rigid and expectant. Behind him, beyond the wall, he saw the figures as he supposed of Dutch troops armed, and with all the advantage of position. The sun, breaking through the clouds, glinted upon steel which, at the distance, he could not be expected to recognize as bill-hooks, pruning-knives, and whatever other implements the premises had afforded. At a little distance down the road he saw, through gaps between the trees that lined the wall, his patrol galloping back to the main body. Trying to collect himself, he at length set off at a slow trot towards the gate. Harry at once signed to the two Dutch soldiers hidden in the cloak-room to come out, and ordered them to stand at attention one on either side of the door. The leader of the French patrol pulled his horse up on its haunches at the road end of the drive.

"The road is blocked, mon Colonel," he said, "with a barricade of carts and beams held by a strong force of the enemy. We cannot estimate their numbers; they keep under cover; but one of the men is killed by their fire, and by their shouts there must be at least a hundred."

Without a word the colonel rode across to the brink of the canal. The lowness of the water and the height of the bank showed at a glance that any attempt to swim his horses across would be disastrous; they could never scramble up the opposite side. The men might cross and crawl up, but a moment's reflection showed what the fate of a small body of men would be, retreating on foot through a hostile country. The colonel looked down the road; the blazing barn inspired uncomfortable thoughts. He had seen many such conflagrations of late, and knew well that the peasants would take a full toll of revenge if he fell into their power. Wheeling round, he for the first time caught sight of the two Dutch soldiers standing behind Harry on the steps of the house. This seemed to bring home to him the hopelessness of his position; muttering a curse he walked his horse slowly up the avenue. Harry came forward to meet the scowling officer.

"It is the fortune of war, Monsieur. I see you have chosen the wiser course. You surrender to superior numbers. I am authorized by my general to accept your surrender. You will receive honourable treatment; he knows how to appreciate a gallant warrior; but the peasants----"

The colonel tried to smile.

"I am concerned--I say it frankly--for the safety of my men. With your troops,"--he shrugged--"we might take our chance; but your peasants, your burghers--parbleu! we know them; they are savages, they are tigers. To whom, Monsieur, have I the honour of yielding my sword?"

"Immediately, Monsieur, to me; my name is Harry Rochester, an Englishman at present in the--in the Dutch service; ultimately to General van Santen, to whom I shall have the honour to introduce you in a few minutes. Now, Monsieur le Colonel, you will direct your men to ride up the avenue, dismount, stack their arms in front of the house, and fasten their horses to the garden palings behind. Sergeant," he added, turning to one of the sentinel dragoons, "ride at once to the general and acquaint him that Monsieur le Colonel----"

"Baron von Schummelpincken."

"That the Baron von Schummelpincken has surrendered. Send a dozen men to take charge of the horses. In twenty minutes we shall be in camp."

*CHAPTER XI*

*The Battle of Lindendaal*

A Hitch--A Charge in Flank--Irregular Warfare--Called Off--A Suggestion--Compliments--Thanks--Adieux--Luck--After the Fair--A Triumph

To his credit, Colonel the Baron von Schummelpincken did his best to put a good face on the predicament in which he found himself. He rode back to his men to inform them of the arrangement. The moment he had gone, Adele de Vaudrey came out, her face aglow with excitement.

"Monsieur," she said, "General van Santen asks what the uproar, the firing, means; shall I tell him?"

"As you please, Mademoiselle."

"It is as you please, Monsieur."

"The day is not ended yet, Mademoiselle."

"I will say nothing, Monsieur." She went into the house.

The sergeant had spurred across the meadow behind, through a gate in the wall, into the orchard and wood. In a few minutes he reappeared with his comrades, who came at a trot towards the house. Their pace was leisurely, but a keener observer than the colonel, who at this moment was half-way up the avenue at the head of his troops, might have noticed that the horses' flanks were heaving violently. The men had in fact galloped at full speed from the horns of the position in obedience to the sergeant's signals, and only checked the pace in response to a suggestion of Sherebiah, who had made the best of his way after them. Harry ordered the ten dragoons to draw up in line at right angles to the house.

"Sherry," he said, as the man came up puffing, "bring me one of the dragoons' horses."

He mounted just as the colonel emerged from the avenue. Sherry stood by his side at the nearer end of the line of dragoons.

The colonel, some dozen yards ahead of his men, came to Harry and handed him his sword. Harry politely returned it, a compliment which the officer courteously acknowledged.

"Monsieur," said Harry, "we understand the arrangement? Your men will pile arms in front of the house, file off to right and left, tie their horses to the palings, then pass round on foot to the rear of the house."

"Certainly, Monsieur."

Harry watched eagerly as the troopers came two by two up the drive and did his bidding with the precision of automata. Events had crowded so thickly that he had scarcely had time to think; but now he could hardly sit still on his horse, so intense was his anxiety to get the whole scene over. Everything appeared to be answering to his wishes; his arrangement for the French dragoons to file off in opposite directions was a precaution to divide the force; they began to pass behind the house one by one. About half of the troop had thus piled their arms and fastened their horses; the clock in the belfry-tower struck the first note of noon, and Harry was already congratulating himself that almost by the time the last of the leisurely Dutch chimes was ended his ruse would have been completely successful, when a loud voice was heard from the road.

"Mon Colonel! mon Colonel! they are only peasants and burghers. It is a trick, a trick!"

There was an instant halt. Harry's heart was in his mouth; Sherebiah muttered, "Zooks! 'tis hot 'taties now!" The colonel, his face aflame, spurred his horse from the pillar at the end of the avenue, and, drawing his sword, vociferated:

"A moi! a moi!"

For a moment Harry felt that all was lost. But only for a moment, for in that instant he saw that with his handful of men in line he had the advantage of the troopers debouching two by two from the balustraded drive. Turning to the dragoons at his side he shouted "Charge!" and dashed straight at the enemy. It was in the nick of time. A few seconds later they would have been ready; at this precise moment they were awkwardly placed. Half a dozen men of the nearer file were leading their horses towards the palings; beyond them the armed and mounted men were approaching from the drive, and eight files presented their flank to Harry's little force of ten. As he charged, the dismounted men scattered like hares before him, and the sixteen armed troopers had barely time to wheel round to meet the onslaught before Harry and his Dutchmen were upon them. All the advantage of impetus and direct attack was with the Dutch. Harry, grasping his sword, came full tilt upon a burly Alsatian. Almost before he had realized it he had passed over the dragoon and his horse, and, parrying a swinging cut from the man behind, had shortened his arm and thrust him through the shoulder. The man dropped his sabre and fell from his horse, which wheeled round and plunged madly through the dismounted men on the farther side.

In a trice Harry was through the mellay, and bringing his horse up on its haunches, wrenched it round so that he might take stock of the new situation. He found that the majority of his Dutch troopers had stuck close to him, and with the readiness of old campaigners were already wheeling round to face the discomfited enemy. A dozen men were on the ground, including the portly colonel; several horses were careering wildly through the small open space, impeding the movements of the dismounted men who had made a dash for the piles of arms in front of the porch. The French troopers were still filing up the drive, but the sudden uproar had startled the horses. The riders were too much occupied with their steeds and too closely packed to make effective use of their pistols; the one or two who fired aimed erratically, and no one was hurt. But Harry saw that the only course open to him was to charge again and again until the peasants, summoned by the noise of the fray, could come to his assistance. It was fortunate that the remainder of the enemy's troop could only debouch two by two from the drive; the stone balustrade on each side of it prevented them from deploying until they entered the open space in front of the house. Two horses that had been rolled over near the entrance to the drive were plunging and kicking, hindering the advance of the leading troopers, who were now being pressed by the men behind. Once more the little band of Dutchmen hurled themselves at the head of the enemy's force, and with the same result, though Harry was instinctively aware, when he again emerged from the mellay, that his followers were fewer in number. Among them, however, he noticed Sherebiah, who had possessed himself of a sword and pistol from the stand of arms and a horse from the palings, and was comporting himself as though, so far from being a man of peace, he had as much experience of warfare as any trooper present. Two of Madame de Vaudrey's gardeners also had appropriated weapons, and were holding at bay a group of the disarmed enemy who hovered round, trying to dash in and recover their arms.

Harry saw little of this, however. He wheeled his horse once more to repeat the charge. He was followed now by only six men; at least a dozen fresh troopers had debouched from the drive, but, like their comrades, they had not time to form before the dauntless seven were upon them. The odds were heavier now; only two succeeded in getting through; the rest were checked. Then ensued a series of fierce duels, the little group of Dutch being broken up and driven back by the weight of the files pressing through as rapidly as they might into the open space. Harry, engaged with a stout trooper, felt with a sinking heart that the game was up; his arm was wrung with hacking and thrusting; his opponent, fresh to the fight, closed with him, leant over his saddle, and tried to grip him by the throat. At this moment there was a fierce shout, followed by a perfect babel of cries. The trooper fell from his horse, transfixed in the nick of time by Sherebiah's sword; and when Harry after a few seconds was able once more to take in what was happening, he saw the place thick with burghers and peasants who were falling upon the enemy from both balustrades. Some had leapt on to the coping and were dealing heavy blows at the dragoons and their horses with sticks, hooks, scythes, and all kinds of strange implements; others were jabbing through the interstices of the balustrades; all were shouting, smiting, felling with a fierce vehemence that brooked no resistance. A panic seized upon the enemy; the unarmed men bolted to the stables behind the house and barricaded themselves there; the last files of the dragoons threw down their arms and begged for quarter; and, turning to Sherebiah, Harry bade him cry to the peasants, with the full force of his lungs, to hold their hands.

A lull succeeded the turmoil. A crowd of the Dutch were hastening towards the stables to burst open the doors and make short work of the men sheltered there. To them Harry galloped up.

"Men," he said, "halt! in the name of General van Santen. The victory is ours. We must await the general's orders."

The mob hesitated, then, with obedience compelled by their young leader's mien, stood in sullen silence. Harry rode back to the opening of the drive, stationed two of the Dutch dragoons there, and addressed the colonel, who, with a lacerated cheek and contused shoulder, leant against the palings, a picture of chagrin, pain, and baffled rage.

"Monsieur, 'twas not well done. Your parole was given. But you are hurt; go to the house--you will find tendance there."

At this moment another horseman suddenly appeared on the scene, galloping up from behind the house. Wheeling his horse in some surprise, Harry found himself face to face with Madame de Vaudrey's neighbour, Monsieur de Polignac. He looked greatly perturbed; his mouth was twitching; the air of cynical detachment he had worn in Madame de Vaudrey's drawing-room had quite disappeared.

"Monsieur, what is this, what is this?" he cried.

"As you see, Monsieur--a skirmish," replied Harry. "We have captured a raiding-party--and doubtless saved your house from the flames."

"But--but--do you not see your peril? You are not a soldier; these men are not soldiers, the most of them; to wage war is for you quite irregular; if caught by the French--and I hear, Monsieur, rumours of a general advance in this direction--you will all be hanged."

"I will take my chance of that," said Harry. "I thank you, nevertheless, for your warning, Monsieur."

"Bah! I counsel you to release your prisoners--without arms, it is understood--and send them back to their lines."

"That is a matter for General van Santen, Monsieur. Would you care to repeat your advice to him?"

Polignac gave him a savage look, opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it, and, setting spurs to his horse, galloped away.

The scene of this tempestuous little fight differed greatly from its appearance a short half-hour before. Thirty men, of whom twenty-four were French, lay killed or wounded, with a few horses. The stone balustrades were broken in several places; the flower-beds were trampled; the gravel was ploughed up; shattered muskets, swords, scabbards, pistols, hats, cloaks, strewed the ground.

"Carry the dead to the garden," said Harry. "Take the wounded to the outbuildings and attend to them; there is a doctor in the house. A dozen of you take arms from the pile there and guard the prisoners; lock them up in the stables. Sherebiah, I leave you in charge."

Then, hot, weary, hatless, his coat showing several rents, Harry followed the wounded colonel into the house.

"Monsieur," said Adele, meeting him, "the general insists on seeing you. He was with difficulty restrained from rising and taking part in the fray. You are weary; a cup of wine will refresh you."

Harry gladly quaffed at the cup she presented to him. Then he followed her into the dining-room. The general frowned when he saw him.

"I want to see the leader," he exclaimed testily.

"This is he, Monsieur," said Ad<ble.

"You, Monsieur!--Mademoiselle, a youth, a boy--absurd!"

"It has been my good fortune, Monsieur," said Harry.

The general looked blank with astonishment. He half-raised himself on his cushions, sinking back with a groan.

"They would tell me nothing, save that the French were discomfited. Explain, from the beginning."

Harry gave a rapid narrative of the late events. He spoke always of "we", seeming to include Adele, the general himself, and even Madame de Vaudrey, who had joined them, among those who had planned the ruse. Every now and then the general broke into his story with exclamations of surprise and pleasure and praise.

"A daring, a clever scheme," he said as Harry concluded. "You are an Englishman, they tell me; a soldier, I presume?"

"No, Monsieur le General, I have not that honour."

"That is the army's loss. You have shown great quickness, great skill, and no less courage. I compliment you, Monsieur."

"I did what I could, of course, Monsieur; but things would have ended very differently but for the peasants' bold attack at the last."

"Bah! I know them; they would have done nothing without a leader, but with a leader they will fight--yes, and well. I doubt whether, in point of military honour, the French colonel--whom I will tax on the subject presently--did right to reassume command after he had yielded his sword; still, much may be forgiven him; naturally he was chagrined and perturbed; and he is moreover wounded, as I hear."

The general spoke with difficulty; he was very weak.

"You have saved your convoy; that is well. You will wish to take it to Breda. I fear I cannot move. Madame la Comtesse, I shall be your patient for a time----"

"Monsieur, I am honoured," said the lady.

"But the prisoners must be carried to Breda also. Monsieur, that duty--that honour--must be yours. You have laid many under an obligation: Mynheer Grootz, your excellent employer; the garrison at Breda; Madame la Comtesse, whose house you have saved; and myself--especially myself, for without doubt you preserved me from capture, and in my wounded state capture might very well have finished me."

"I hope for your speedy recovery, Monsieur."

"I thank you. Now, you will take six of my troopers with you; armed burghers will serve for the remainder of your escort. I marvel that help has not ere this reached us from Breda; you will report to my aide-de-camp, whom you will doubtless meet there or on the road. Your name, Monsieur, is----"

"Harry Rochester, Monsieur."

"Mademoiselle will note it down for me. My friend Mynheer Grootz will have a visit from me. I am fatigued; Mademoiselle, a little cordial from your fair hand. Monsieur, I bid you farewell."

Harry bowed and left the room, tingling with pleasure at the general's praise. He went to the reception-room and gladly stretched his weary limbs on a low couch there. Madame de Vaudrey followed him.

"How can I thank you!" she exclaimed. "I do thank you, from my heart, a thousand times. How brave! I trembled, I wept when I heard the horrid sounds; I could not look; Adele looked and told me; I thought you would be killed; I was overcome, I could only pray. Oh! Monsieur, what can I say? I can say nothing; I can only--yes; tiens! I kiss you."

At another time Harry might have been embarrassed; he was now so tired that he could but accept passively all the motherly cares lavished on him by the comtesse. She brought him food with her own hands, smoothed his hair, begged him vainly to accept a ring as a token of her admiration and gratitude; offered to give him a coat of her late husband's to replace his own torn garment. Harry stood it all as long as he could; at last, parrying another kiss, he sprang up and declared it was time he set off with his prisoners and the convoy.

The prisoners capable of marching numbered eighty-five. The remainder were too badly wounded to be moved. Gathering his escort, he had the stable door unlocked and the prisoners paraded, and sent Sherebiah to marshal the convoy. All was at length ready. It was half-past one when he stood at the door to take leave of Madame de Vaudrey.

"Adieu, Monsieur Harry!" she said. "Au revoir!--that is what I mean. You will come and see us again?"

"Nothing would delight me more, Madame."

"And stay; convey my thanks to Mynheer Grootz for the tulip bulb; you will remember that? and yourself take the thanks of a mother and daughter. Adele!" she called, "Monsieur Rochestair is departing. Come and bid him farewell."

"Adieu, Monsieur!" said Adele, coming forward. "I add my thanks to Mamma's for the great service you have done us."

"I could have done little, Mademoiselle, without your aid."

A flicker of pleasure passed over the girl's face; then, with a return to her wonted coldness, she said:

"You are pleased to flatter, Monsieur. But I see there are still knights-errant in the world. Adieu!"

There were tears in Madame de Vaudrey's eyes as she put her arms up and kissed Harry on the cheek. He bowed over her hand, then sprang on to the horse of one of the captured dragoons, and cantered after the line of wagons and men already moving up the road. As he reached them he had the impulse to turn for a last look at the chateau. The turret was just visible above the tree-tops, and upon it he saw a female figure motionless.

"One of the maids hauling down the flag, I suppose," he thought.

Then he set his face towards Breda; it was Adele who stood there watching until he was out of sight.

"What a lucky dog I am, Sherry!" he remarked to his sturdy henchman as they rode side by side.

"Ay sure, Master Harry, 'tis better to be born lucky nor rich. But speaken for myself, I doan't zackly see there be much luck about it."

"Oh yes! there is. 'Twas merely luck that Mynheer Grootz had to send me this way; mere luck that he had promised Madame de Vaudrey a tulip; mere luck that the French chose that very day to come raiding; mere luck that the place lent itself so easily to a trick----"

"Ay, and mere luck that 'ee happened to be born wi' a headpiece; mere luck that 'ee can handle a sword and sit a horse; mere luck that 'ee've got sojer's blood a-rompen through your veins. Daze me, if all that be luck--well, Them above med as well ha' no finger in poor mortal pies at all."

"Well, well, Sherry! But confess, 'twas odd to come upon Captain Aglionby again, and in that house; what do you say to that?"

"Say! I say 'tis old Satan hisself playen pranks, and we'll ha' to keep an eye on the villain."

"I laughed to see their heads in chancery; 'twas well done, Sherry, to haul them down the stairs as you did. What has become of the captain to-day, I wonder?"

"Trust me, he be doen mischief somewheres. I knows Cap'n, ay, I do."

From the stout Baron von Schummelpincken downwards the prisoners wore a crest-fallen air. Save for the colonel and his subalterns they all marched on foot, the horses being tied head to tail as Harry had often seen at English country fairs. They had been marching for about an hour when the head of the convoy met General van Santen's aide-de-camp galloping at breakneck speed. He reined up when he noticed soldiers among the men. Harry cantered to his side. Explanations were rapidly exchanged. The Dutchman laughed heartily when he heard how the enemy had been fooled.

"To tell the truth," he said, "I should never have thought the general capable of such a stratagem."

"Indeed!" said Harry.

"I wish I had been there. It would have been more fitting that I should take the prisoners to Breda than you, a sutler, I suppose you call yourself."

"I don't think it necessary to call anybody names, Mynheer, myself least of all. The general expected assistance; why has it not accompanied you, Mynheer?"

The officer explained that on reaching Breda he had found that practically the whole garrison was engaged in a reconnaissance in force towards Antwerp, where General de Bedmar was showing signs of activity that gave the confederate generals some concern. Only two troops of horse had been retained in the town, and these had strict orders not to leave the place. Infantry would be of little use against the French raiders, and indeed it was impossible that they should reach Madame de Vaudrey's house in time. The aide-de-camp had been accordingly provided with a fresh mount and sent on to the main body, from which a squadron had at once been detached. But the corps, when he overtook it, was a good ten miles beyond Breda, and the relief squadron could not start for the Helmund road until the afternoon. It was now some twenty minutes behind the aide-de-camp, who had ridden forward to convey to the general the news of the coming reinforcement.

He continued his journey, and Harry cantered on to overtake the convoy, which had moved on while the conversation took place. Some minutes later a cloud of dust in the distance heralded the approaching force. When the two bodies met, Harry had reluctantly to tell his story over again. The commander of the squadron pressed him for more details than the general's aide-de-camp had done, and being a shrewd man he soon put two and two together.

"The honour of the day is yours, my friend," he said to Harry, "and by my soul you shall ride into Breda at the head of the column."

Harry protested; he did not relish the idea of heading a sort of circus procession. But the Dutchman insisted; General van Santen had laid the duty upon Harry, and he saw no reason to relieve him of it. He sent a couple of his troopers on in advance to announce the event. Thus it happened that when, in the dusk, Harry headed his convoy through the gates, he was met by a great concourse of the populace, men, women, and children huzzaing and waving hats and kerchiefs with vast enthusiasm. All the pretty girls of the town, in their quaint bonnets and short skirts, pressed around the horse to see the young Englishman, and a comical little Dutch boy, with a toy drum slung over his shoulder, placed himself in front of Harry's horse and proudly tattooed him through the streets to the burgomaster's house. The burgomaster himself made a very flowery speech of congratulation, to which Harry returned the best acknowledgment he could; and he was heartily glad when the tide of compliments ebbed and he had leisure to make formal delivery of his prisoners.

He had not yet escaped, however. He was resting in his inn when a messenger entered with an invitation to an impromptu banquet organized at the burgomaster's. In vain Harry pleaded that he was in no trim for fine company. The burgomaster's own tailor undertook to make him presentable; he had to sit through a long Dutch feast and respond to the toast of his health. Even then his labours were not ended. After the banquet the company adjourned to the council chamber, where all the beauty of the town was assembled. Harry had to lead off the dance with the burgomaster's wife, a stout vrouw of forty-five years and fifteen stone. He did his duty manfully, dancing the stately dances of the day with unflagging spirit, and winning universal praise by the modesty with which he wore his honours. The assembly broke up at a late hour; Harry was dog-tired, and went to bed convinced that it was mighty hard work to be a popular hero.

*CHAPTER XII*

*Harry is Discharged*

Rheum and Rum--Gall--Without Ceremony--A Question of Precedence--Res Angustae--The Raw--To Scheveningen--Punctuality and Despatch--From the Dutch Side--Temptation--Renunciation--Gretel--Misgivings

"Atchew!--confusion! This pestilent country--atchew!--will be the death of me. 'Tis one eternal---atchew!--rheum! Stap my vitals! I wish I were dead. Atchew! atchew!"

Captain Aglionby sat in the topmost room of a high house in one of the less savoury quarters of the Hague. His nose was redder than ever; his cheeks more puffed; his eyes looked like boiled oysters. A thick woollen comforter swathed his neck. Though it was the height of summer, a big log fire blazed in the hearth; window and door were fast shut; and in a temperature of something over eighty degrees the captain was doing his best, according to his lights, to cure a cold.

He was seated at a table drawn close to the fire. Upon the table stood a bottle nearly empty, a beaker, a basin of sugar, an inkhorn, a table-book of writing-paper, and a sheath containing quills. A kettle sang on the fire. When his sneezing fit was over, the captain poured the last of his rum into the beaker, sugared it, filled up with boiling water, and gulped half of the mixture into a throat inured to fiery passengers. Water streamed from his eyes, and his blotched brow broke into a profuse perspiration. He wiped his face with a large red handkerchief, smacked his lips, and, bending over the table, selected a quill.

"Hang writing!" he muttered. "I never writ a letter but I rued it. Atchew! And with this cursed cold! Well, the sooner begun, the sooner done; so here's to it. Atchew!"

He cut his quill, dipped it in the ink, and began:

"Mr. BARKLEY. Sir."

It would have been quite evident to an onlooker that the captain was not a practised penman. He wrote very laboriously, frowning at every stroke, and licking his lips often. Like most illiterate people, he repeated half aloud the words as he wrote them, and being so unused to giving visible expression to his thoughts, he commented as he went along. He was never at a loss how to spell a word, for in those days men spelt as they pleased, and bad spelling might almost have been regarded as one of the marks of a gentleman.

"Sir. This will, I hope, finde you well. For myself, I am afflicted [atchew!] with a voilent Rheum, the wch I feare will turne to an inflamatn of the Longs. [Egad! that'll please the old niggard!] I command the sarvices of the best Potticary in the place, but finding his nostrums vain, for three dayes have eate nought but Water Gruel. 'Tis said that Rumm is a speedie Cure, but that I eschew. [Atchew!] My Hande shakes with the feaver, & I shd not rite to you now had I not Surprizing Nuse to give. You must knowe that, visitting at the house of Mme de Vodray, where your he sarvant is ever an honour'd guest, [that's worth fifty guineas to me!] what was my vaste Amazement to finde there that yonge Cockerell H---- R---- swaggering it as one of the beste. It passes my wit to divine how he escap'd from the _Merrie Maide_, & hope y may recover the Passage Money, the wch methinks will be difficult. [Atchew! He won't get a penny o't.] 'Tis passing strange the boy is here, not lesse that he is acquaint with the Vodrays; & moreover with him is my pestilent cozn S---- M----, of whom more hereafter, 'twill be easie to deal with him, whereto I have already things _in Traine_. H---- R---- is employ'd with one Grootz, a merchant of Substance, & one that hath large Contracks with the confederate armies. The boy being out of yr way, y have belike no further cause against him, & wd wish no further stepps taken, comming & going is like at any time to Cooke his Goose, but if I mistake in this 'twould be well to sende 100 Guineas by the same Hande as wont, & I wd endevour to bring the matter to a safe and speedie End, in wch case I wd make bold to aske for a further Summe of 200 Guineas for to requite my Zeale in the sarvice of my honour'd Frende & Patron."

"Atchew! Writing is plaguily dry work," he muttered, breaking off at this point, "and the bottle's empty."

He tugged at a bell-pull, and resumed his letter.

"'Twill be no light Taske, seeing the yonge man hath captured of late a Partie of above 100 French in an Affaire near Breda, the wch I doubte not will give him some Consekence with the Dutch no less than himselfe, of the wch Affaire 'tis like an Account will be printed in the _Courant_. [Sure 'twill give Nick a start.] I must add that Living is _verie Deare_ here. For my Creditt sake and the furtherance of youre Ends, I have hired a Magnifficent Appartment, for the wch I have to paye a sweete Rent. Hence it is verie nessessarie I have the Guineas without delai. Waiting yr commands & so subscribe myself yr ever humble and obediant

RALPH AGLIONBY, Captain."

"Atchew! There, 'tis done, and writ fair." He flung his pen on the table. "And I'd fain know what the squire has against the knave; 'tis more than pique, I promise you. Where's Simmons, confound him!"

He sanded the wet paper, folded it, sealed it with yellow wax, and wrote the superscription:

_For Nicolas Barkley Esqre_
_at his house_
_Winton St. Mary_
_nr Salisbury, England_

This done, he tugged again at the bell-pull, blew his nose with sounding ferocity, and stuck his legs into the hearth with the air of a man who had successfully achieved a stupendous task.

The door opened, and John Simmons entered.

"Hang you, sirrah! why don't you answer my bell at the very moment, sir? Go get me a bottle of rum."

Simmons, pallid, frowsy, scared-looking, stood hesitating in the doorway.

"Are you deaf, clodpoll?" roared the captain. "A bottle of rum, and instantly!"

"Yes, Captain, and the--and the money, sir?"

"The money, you dog! Where is the crown-piece I gave you this morning?"

"I had to buy the dinner, sir, and----"

"Zounds! You'll answer me, will you? You're the most pestilent knave man ever had to serve him. 'Tis money, money, all day with you. Would that Sherry Minshull had left you to the hangman! Begone, sirrah! and----"

"Pardon!" said a voice in French from the door. "If I am in the way----"

"Come in, Monsieur," said Aglionby, springing to his feet. "And you, booby, be off and do my bidding."

Simmons vanished precipitately. Monsieur de Polignac gasped as he entered the overheated room.

"Phew! It would roast an ox."

"Shut the door. I am nursing a pestilent rheum."

"So it appears. You are in an ill humour, my friend; I fear my news will not cheer you."

"Spit it out and have done with it, then."

"Well, this is it. A commission has been made out, I hear, appointing your young Englishman a cornet in the Anspach dragoons."

"What young Englishman?"

"The young man whom we met at Madame de Vaudrey's."

The captain swore a hearty British oath.

"Where learnt you that?"

"A la bonne heure! It is true. I have it on authority I cannot doubt. Van Santen pressed it; his influence prevailed. There were several vacancies in the regiment; it lost heavily in the action at Eckeren a few weeks ago. This boy gets the senior cornetcy. We owe it to ourselves, Monsieur le Capitaine, that the junior cornets get an early step."

"Peste! We do owe it to ourselves; or, I should rather say, we owe it to yourself. For me, I have knocked about the world too long to take umbrage easily; and look you, Monsieur, my family, although gentle, indeed I may say noble, cannot compare with yours in quartet-ings and such fal-lals. I understand your sentiments; as you say, something must be done."

"And at once, for which end I have come to see you. My position, as you perceive, is delicate; for myself, I would seek a quarrel with the bantling and spit him on my rapier without remorse. But affairs of state--you understand me; that alters the case. I must not appear. I propose to you this: to affront the boy, provoke him to a duel; you a veteran, he a tyro; it will be a matter of seconds. Voila!"

The captain gazed steadily at Polignac for a few moments, then said:

"Look you, Polignac, no man ever accused Ralph Aglionby, late captain in the Preobrashenski Grenadiers, of lack of courage--no man, that is to say, that lived to tell of it. Had you made the proposition twenty years ago, I should by this time have been half-way down the stairs on the way to kill this young springald. But twenty years make a difference. My courage is the same, look you; but the years have enlarged my girth--and my discretion. On the point of honour I am as sensitive as ever I was, but I have learnt to have patience--and consideration. Say I engage this peddling fool; what happens? I kill him and baulk you of your revenge. Where are you, my friend? Or suppose, by some vile contrivance, he kills me; where am I? No, no, Monsieur; the right of place belongs to you. Who am I, a broken soldier, a poor unnecessary captain of grenadiers, to take precedence of you?"

"You have most admirable patience," sneered Polignac, "and I am overwhelmed by your consideration. I thank you, Monsieur le Capitaine, and bid you adieu."

"Stay, my friend; why this haste? I have consideration, as you say. Would the world be better for the loss of you or me? are there not more ways of getting even with a man than making one's self a target for his pistol or a sheath for his sword? You remember Marillier, and Aubin, eh? Sit down, and let us talk this over like reasonable men."

Polignac sat on one of the rickety chairs in silence.

"Your memory is jogged, eh? You remember the dark lane, and the light in the window, and----"

"Enough!" exclaimed the other impatiently. "My memory is as good as yours. This is different. I must be circumspect. Were we in Paris--then! But here at the Hague, I am not my own master; I have weightier interests to consider. An incautious step, even a chance word, may ruin a dynasty. My own life--I do not consider it; but when one is playing for a crown one has duties, responsibilities. If you see your way--well, I am not one to dissuade you; and if a few guilders----"

Aglionby's red eyes gleamed.

"Well, Monsieur, as you put it so, I own 'tis in a measure a question of money. In truth 'tis desperate hard lines that I, who have ruffled it with the best and got drunk with the Czar of Muscovy himself, should be so hard driven as that I cannot offer due hospitality to a friend. Look at this wretched lodging; was ever gentleman, by no fault of his own, mark you, reduced to such straits!"

Polignac, glancing at the mean furniture and the empty bottle, agreeably assented, but concealed a smile.

"Well," he said, "might I ask leave to send out for a bottle of wine?"

Aglionby jumped up with alacrity.

"You say so? 'Tis the mark of a true friend." He pulled hard at the bell-rope. "My man will be here instantly; and, Monsieur, let it be sack--sack, as you love me."

Simmons reappeared without delay, and was despatched for a bottle of sack. With the energy of pleasurable anticipation the captain pursued:

"Now, my dear Polignac, mark--before attempting the house 'tis well to poison the dog; aha! that is only my way of putting it, eh?"

"Of course. A figure of speech; but from the life!"

Aglionby flung him a suspicious glance; at times he had an uneasy feeling that Polignac was quizzing him. But after a momentary pause he went on as before.

"The dog in this case--and a low cur it is--is the young cockerel's servant--the same that embraced you so cordially at Madame de Vaudrey's. Ha! ha! I can relish the comical side of it e'en though he embraced me also!--and before the charming mademoiselle too!"

He guffawed uproariously. He felt that he was now getting tit for tat for Polignac's covert sneers, often rather suspected than understood. But he was not a little startled by the effect of his words and laughter. Polignac flushed purple with rage; his mouth took a very decided twist towards his left eye. Springing up suddenly he cried:

"Morbleu, Monsieur, a truce to your pleasantries! and keep the lady's name out of it, or by the----"

"No offence, no offence, my dear fellow," interposed the captain hastily. "I'm but a plain soldier--just an honest, bluff, outspoken old campaigner; we blades don't pick and choose our words like you fine gentlemen of the courts; though in truth when I was in Russia my manners were as good as the best."

Polignac resumed his seat reluctantly without a word. After a short, strained silence Aglionby went on:

"The first thing, as I was saying, is to get this dog out of the way. Burn him! he follows his master like a shadow. The man removed, the rest is easy. A week from now, and he shall lie his length in six feet of good Dutch soil, or my name isn't Ralph Montacute Aglionby. Leave it to me, Monsieur; there will be necessary expenses; say fifty guilders, a small sum, and at one time----"

"Send to my chambers; you shall have the money. And by the way, here is a packet for Captain Rudge of the _Skylark_. He sails with this evening's tide. Bid him have the greatest care of it; should he run into danger he must destroy it.--It is arranged, then? I shall hear from you?"

"Within a week, on the word of a gentleman."