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CORNELL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY 
 
 3 1924 088 397 850 
 
The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/cletails/cu31924088397850 
 
THE WRITINGS OF 
 
 PROSPER MERIMEE 
 
 COMPRISING HIS 
 
 NOVELS, TALES, AND LETTERS TO AN UNKNOWN 
 
 WITH 
 
 An Essay on the Genius and Achievement of the Author 
 By GEORGE SAINTSBURY, M.A. 
 
 COMPLETE IN EIGHT VOLUMES 
 
Roger walked about the room with his liead 
 bent on his breast, his eyes half closed and filled 
 with tears. 
 
 Etched by Em. Kulnndjrom n painting hi/ P. Sinibaldi. 
 
THE NOVELS, TALES AND LETTERS 
 
 OF 
 
 PROSPER MERIMEE 
 
 Edited by Prof. George Saintsbury, M.A. 
 
 COMPLETE IN EIGHT VOLUMES 
 
 THE MOSAIC 
 
 Comprising 
 
 MATEO FALCONE and OTHER TALES 
 
 Translated by 
 
 EJULY MARY WALLER AND 
 MARY HELENA DEY 
 
 With Illustrations by 
 
 J. LE BLAUT, f. SINIBALDI 
 LUC OLIVIER MERSON, MYRBACH 
 ED. DE BEAUMONT AND LALAUZE 
 
 NEW YORK PHILADELPHIA 
 
 FRANK S. HOLBY 
 
 MCMVI 
 
copteight, 1905 
 By frank S. HOLBY 
 
 A II rights reserved 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE MOSAIC: 
 
 Matix) Falcone ... 3 
 
 The Vision of Charles XI . . . ... 25 
 
 The Taking of the Redoubt 39 
 
 Tamango 51 
 
 The Peakl of Toledo 91 
 
 The Game of Backgammon 97 
 
 The Ethuscan Vase 129 
 
 The Conspirators l71 
 
 Federigo 239 
 
 Letters from Spain 259 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 VOLUME III. 
 
 Roger wallied about the room with his head bent on his 
 breast, his eyes half closed and filled with tears. 
 
 (p. lis) Frontispiece 
 
 Etched by Em. Buland Jrom a painting by P. Siiiibald 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Giuseppa ran after Mateo, and seized him by the arm. 
 
 He is your son," she said 23 
 
 Etched by Gery Bichard from a painting by 
 Luc Olivier Merson 
 
 Then she struggled from his embrace, and, snatching 
 the Etruscan vase, broke it into a thousand pieces 
 
 on the floor l68 
 
 Etched by Lalauzefrom a painting by 
 Ed. de Beaumont 
 
MATEO FALCONE 
 
MATEO FALCONE 
 
 COMING out of Porto-Vecchio, and turn- 
 ing north-west toward the centre of 
 the island, the ground is seen to rise 
 very rapidly, and, after three hours' walk by 
 tortuous paths, blocked by large boulders of 
 rocks, and sometimes cut by ravines, the traveUer 
 finds himself on the edge of a very broad 
 mdquis, or open plateau. These plateaus are the 
 home of the Corsican shepherds, and the resort 
 of those who have come in conflict with the law. 
 The Corsican peasant sets fire to a certain stretch 
 of forest to spare himself the trouble of manur- 
 ing his lands: so much the worse if the flames 
 spread further than is needed. Whatever hap- 
 pens, he is sure to have a good harvest by sow- 
 ing upon this ground, fertilised by the ashes of 
 the trees which grew on it. When the corn is 
 gathered, they leave the straw because it is too 
 much trouble to gather. The roots, which re- 
 main in the earth without being consumed, 
 sprout, in the following spring, into very thick 
 shoots, which, in a few years, reach to a height 
 of seven or eight feet. It is this kind of under- 
 
 3 
 
4 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 wood which is called mdquis. It is composed of 
 diflPerent kinds of trees and shrubs mixed up 
 and entangled as in a wild state of nature. It 
 is only with hatchet in hand that man can open 
 a way through, and there are mdquis so dense 
 and so thick that not even the wild sheep can 
 penetrate them. 
 
 If you have killed a man, go into the mdquis 
 of Porto- Vecchio, with a good gun and powder 
 and shot, and you will live there in safety. Do 
 not forget to take a brown cloak, furnished with 
 a hood, which will serve as a coverlet and mat- 
 tress. The shepherds will give you milk, cheese, 
 chestnuts, and you will have nothing to fear 
 from the hand of the law, nor from the relatives 
 of the dead, except when you go down into the 
 town to renew your stock of ammunition. 
 
 When I was in Corsica in 18 — Mateo Fal- 
 cone's house was half a league from this mdquis. 
 He was a comparatively rich man for that coun- 
 try, hving handsomely, that is to say, without 
 doing anything, from the produce of his herds, 
 which the shepherds, a sort of nomadic people, 
 led to pasture here and there over the moun- 
 tains. When I saw him, two years after the 
 event that I am about to teU, he seemed about 
 fifty years of age at the most. Imagine a small, 
 but robust man, with jet-black, curly hair, an 
 
MATEO FALCONE 5 
 
 aquiline nose, thin lips, large and piercing eyes, 
 and a deeply tanned complexion. His skill in 
 shooting passed for extraordinary, even in his 
 country, where there are so many crack shots. 
 For example, Mateo would never fire on a sheep 
 with swanshot, but, at one hundred and twenty 
 paces, he would strike it with a bullet in its head 
 or shoulders as he chose. He could use his gun 
 at night as easily as by day, and I was told the 
 following example of his adroitness, which will 
 seem almost incredible to those who have not 
 travelled in Corsica. A lighted candle was 
 placed behind a transparent piece of paper, as 
 large as a plate, at eighty paces off. He put 
 himself into position, then the candle was ex- 
 tinguished, and in a minute's time, in complete 
 darkness, he shot and pierced the paper three 
 times out of four. 
 
 With this conspicuous talent Mateo Falcone 
 had earned a great reputation. He was said 
 to be a loyal friend, but a dangerous enemy; in 
 other respects he was obliging and gave alms, 
 and he lived at peace with everybody in the dis- 
 trict of Porto- Vecchio. But it is told of him 
 that when at Corte, where he had found his 
 wife, he had very quickly freed himself of a 
 rival reputed to be equally formidable in love 
 as in war; at any rate, people attributed to 
 
6 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 Mateo a certain gunshot which surprised his 
 rival while in the act of shaving before a small 
 mirror hung in his window. After the aif air 
 had been hushed up, Mateo married. His wife 
 Giuseppa at first presented him with three 
 daughters, which enraged him, but finally a son 
 came whom he named Fortunato; he was the 
 hope of the family, the inheritor of its name. 
 The girls were well married; their father could 
 reckon in case of need upon the poniards and 
 rifles of his sons-in-law. The son was only ten 
 years old, but he had already shown signs of 
 a promising disposition. 
 
 One autumn day Mateo and his wife set out 
 early to visit one of their flocks in a clearing of 
 the mdquis. Little Fortunato wanted to go with 
 them, but the clearing was too far off; besides, 
 it was necessary that someone should stay and 
 mind the house ; so his father refused. We shall 
 soon see that he had occasion to repent of this. 
 
 He had been gone several hours and little 
 Fortunato was quietly lying out in the sunshine, 
 looking at the blue mountains, and thinking that 
 on the following Sunday he would be going to 
 town to have dinner at his uncle's, the corporal,* 
 
 * Corporals were formerly the chief officers of the Corsican com- 
 munes after they had rebelled against the feudal lords. To-day the 
 name is still given sometimes to a man who, by his property, his con- 
 nections and his clients, exercises influence, and a kind of effective 
 
MATEO FALCONE 7 
 
 when his meditations were suddenly interrupted 
 by the firing of a gun. He got up and turned 
 toward that side of the plain from which the 
 sound had proceeded. Other shots followed, 
 fired at irregular intervals, and each time they 
 came nearer and nearer until he saw a man on 
 the path which led from the plain to Mateo's 
 house. He wore a pointed cap hke a moun- 
 taineer, he was bearded, and clothed in rags, and 
 he dragged himself along with diificulty, lean- 
 ing on his gun. He had just received a gunshot 
 in the thigh. 
 
 This man was a bandit (Corsican for one 
 who is proscribed) who, having set out at night 
 to get some powder from the town, had fallen 
 on the way into an ambush of Corsican soldiers.* 
 After a vigorous defence he had succeeded in 
 escaping, but they gave chase hotly, firing at 
 him from rock to rock. He was only a little 
 ,in advance of the soldiers, and his wound made 
 it out of the question for him to reach the 
 mdquis before being overtaken. 
 
 He came up to Fortunato and said — 
 
 magistracy over a yieve, or canton. By an ancient custom Corsicans 
 divide themselves into five castes : gentlemen (of whom some are of 
 higher, magnifiques, some of lower, signori, estate), corporals, citizens, 
 plebeians and foreigners. 
 
 * VoUigeurs: a body raised of late years by the Government, 
 which acts in conjunction with the gendarmes in the maintenance of 
 order. 
 
8 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 " Are you the son of Mateo Falcone? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I am Gianetto Sanpiero. I am pursued by 
 the yellow-collars.* Hide me, for I can not go 
 any further." 
 
 " But what will my father say if I hide you 
 without his permission? " 
 
 " He will say that you did right." 
 
 " How do you know? " 
 
 " Hide me quickly ; they are coming." 
 
 " Wait tiU my father returns." 
 
 " Good Lord! how can I wait? They will be 
 here in five minutes. Come, hide me, or I will 
 kill you." 
 
 Fortunato replied with the utmost coolness — 
 
 " Your gun is unloaded, and there are no 
 more cartridges in your carchera"f 
 
 " I have my stiletto." 
 
 " But could you run as fast as I can? " 
 
 With a bound he put himself out of reach. 
 
 " You are no son of Mateo Falcone! WiU 
 you let me be taken in front of his house? " 
 
 The child seemed moved. 
 
 " What wiU you give me if I hide you? " he 
 said, drawing nearer. 
 
 * The uniform of the voUigeurs was brown with a yellow collar, 
 t A leather belt which served the joint purposes of a cartridge-box 
 and pocket for despatches and orders. 
 
MATEO FALCONE 9 
 
 The bandit felt in the leather pocket that 
 hung from his side and took out a five-franc 
 piece, which he had put aside, no doubt, for 
 powder. Fortunato smiled at the sight of the 
 piece of silver, and, seizing hold of it, he said 
 to Gianetto — 
 
 " Don't be afraid." 
 
 He quickly made a large hole in a haystack 
 which stood close by the house. Gianetto crouched 
 down in it, and the child covered him up so as 
 to leave a little breathing space, and yet in such 
 a way as to make it impossible for anyone to 
 suspect that the hay concealed a man. He acted, 
 further, with the ingenious cunning of the sav- 
 age. He fetched a cat and her kittens and put 
 them on the top of the haystack to make beheve 
 that it had not been touched for a long time. 
 Then he carefully covered over with dust the 
 blood-stains which he had noticed on the path 
 near the house, and, this done, he lay down again 
 in the sun with the utmost sangfroid. 
 
 Some minutes later six men with brown uni- 
 form with yellow collars, commanded by an 
 adjutant, stood before Mateo's door. This ad- 
 jutant was a distant relative of the Falcones. 
 (It is said that further degrees of relationship 
 are recognised in Corsica than anywhere else.) 
 His name was Tiodoro Gamba; he was an ener- 
 
10 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 getic man, greatly feared by the banditti, and 
 had already hunted out many of them. 
 
 " Good day, youngster," he said, coming up 
 to Fortunato. "How you have grown! Did 
 you see a man pass just now? " 
 
 " Oh, I am not yet so tall as you, cousin," the 
 child replied, with a foolish look. 
 
 " You soon will be. But, tell me, have you 
 not seen a man pass by? " 
 
 " Have I seen a man pass by? " 
 
 " Yes, a man with a pointed black velvet cap 
 and a waistcoat embroidered in red and yellow." 
 
 " A man with a pointed cap and a waistcoat 
 embroidered in scarlet and yellow? " 
 
 "Yes; answer sharply and don't repeat my 
 questions." 
 
 " The priest passed our door this morning on 
 his horse Piero. He asked me how papa was, 
 and I replied " 
 
 " You are making game of me, you rascal. 
 Tell me at once which way Gianetto went, for 
 it is he we are after; I am certain he took this 
 path." 
 
 " How do you know that? " 
 
 " How do I know that? I know you have 
 seen him." 
 
 " How can one see passers-by when one is 
 asleep? " 
 
MATEO FALCONE 11 
 
 " You were not asleep, you little demon : the 
 gunshots would wake you." 
 
 " You think, then, cousin, that your guns 
 make noise enough? My father's rifle makes 
 much more noise." 
 
 " May the devil take you, you young scamp. 
 I am absolutely certain you have seen Gianetto. 
 Perhaps you have even hidden him. Here, you 
 fellows, go into the house, and see if our man 
 is not there. He could only walk on one foot, 
 and he has too much common sense, the villain, 
 to have tried to reach the mdquis limping. Be- 
 sides, the traces of blood stop here." 
 
 " Whatever will papa say? " Fortunato 
 asked, with a chuckle. " What will he say when 
 he finds out that his house has been searched 
 during his absence? " 
 
 " Do you know that I can make you change 
 your tune, you scamp?" cried the adjutant 
 Gamba, seizing him by the ear. " Perhaps you 
 will speak when you have had a thrashing with 
 the flat of a sword." 
 
 Fortunato kept on laughing derisively. 
 
 " My father is Mateo Falcone," he said sig- 
 nificantly. 
 
 " Do you know, you young scamp, that I 
 can take you away to Corte or to Bastia? I 
 shall put you in a dungeon, on a bed of straw. 
 
12 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 with your feet in irons, and I shall guillotine you 
 if you do not tell me where Gianetto San- 
 piero is." 
 
 The child burst out laughing at this ridicu- 
 lous menace. 
 
 " My father is Mateo Falcone," he repeated. 
 
 " Adjutant, do not let us embroil ourselves 
 with Mateo," one of the soldiers whispered. 
 
 Gamba was evidently embarrassed. He 
 talked in a low voice with his soldiers, who had 
 already been all over the house. It was not a 
 lengthy operation, for a Corsican hut only con- 
 sists of a single square room. The furniture 
 comprises a table, benches, boxes and utensils 
 for cooking and hunting. All this time little 
 Fortunato caressed his cat, and seemed, mali- 
 ciously, to enjoy the confusion of his cousin and 
 the soldiers. 
 
 One soldier came up to the haycock. He 
 looked at the cat and carelessly stirred the hay 
 with his bayonet, shrugging his shoulders as 
 though he thought the precaution ridiculous. 
 Nothing moved, and the face of the child did 
 not betray the least agitation. 
 
 The adjutant and his band were in despair; 
 they looked solemnly out over the plain, half 
 inclined to return the way they had come; but 
 their chief, convinced that threats would produce 
 
MATEO FALCONE 13 
 
 no effect upon the son of Falcone, thought he 
 would make one last effort by trying the effect 
 of favours and presents. 
 
 " My boy," he said, " you are a wide-awake 
 young dog, I can see. You will get on. But 
 you play a dangerous game with me; and, if 
 I did not want to give pain to my cousin 
 Mateo, devil take it! I would carry you off 
 with me." 
 
 "Bah!" 
 
 " But, when my cousin returns I shall tell 
 him all about it, and he will give you the whip 
 till he draws blood for having told me lies." 
 
 " How do you know that? " 
 
 " You will see. But, look here, be a good lad 
 and I will give you something." 
 
 " You had better go and look for Gianetto 
 in the mdquis, cousin, for if you stay any longer 
 it will take a cleverer fellow than you to catch 
 liim." 
 
 The adjutant drew a watch out of his pocket, 
 a silver watch worth quite ten crowns. He 
 watched how little Fortunato's eyes sparkled as 
 he looked at it, and he held out the watch at the 
 end of its steel chain. 
 
 " You rogue," he said, " you would like to 
 have such a watch as this hung round your neck, 
 and to go and walk up and down the streets of 
 
14 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 Porto- Vecchio as proud as a peacock; people 
 would ask you the time, and you would reply, 
 ' Look at my watch! ' " 
 
 " When I am grown up, my uncle the cor- 
 poral will give me a watch." 
 
 " Yes; but your uncle's son has one already 
 — not such a fine one as this, however — for he 
 is younger than you." 
 
 The boy sighed. 
 
 " Well, would you like this watch, kiddy? " 
 
 Fortunato ogled the watch out of the corner 
 of his eyes, just as a cat does when a whole 
 chicken is given to it. It dares not pounce upon 
 the prey, because it is afraid a joke is being 
 played on it, but it turns its eyes away now and 
 then, to avoid succmnbing to the temptation, 
 licking its lips all the time as though to say to 
 its master, " What a cruel joke you are playing 
 on me! " 
 
 The adjutant Gamba, however, seemed really 
 willing to give the watch. Fortunato did not 
 hold out his hand; but he said to him with a 
 bitter smile — 
 
 " Why do you make fun of me? " 
 
 " I swear I am not joking. Only tell me 
 where Gianetto is, and this watch is yours." 
 
 Fortunato smiled incredulously, and fixed 
 his black eyes on those of the adjutant. He 
 
MATEO FALCONE 15 
 
 tried to find in them the faith he would fain have 
 in his words. 
 
 " May I lose my epaulettes," cried the adju- 
 tant, " if I do not give you the watch upon that 
 condition! I caU my men to witness, and then 
 I can not retract," 
 
 As he spoke, he held the watch nearer and 
 nearer xintil it almost touched the child's pale 
 cheeks. His face plainly expressed the conflict 
 going on in his mind between covetousness and 
 the claims of hospitality. His bare breast heaved 
 violently almost to suifocation. All the time 
 the watch dangled and twisted and even hit the 
 tip of his nose. By degrees he raised his right 
 hand toward the watch, his finger ends touched 
 it; and its whole weight rested on his palm al- 
 though the adjutant still held the end of the 
 chain loosely. . . . The watch face was blue. 
 . . . The case was newly polished. ... It 
 seemed blazing in the sun like fire. . . . The 
 temptation was too strong. 
 
 Fortunato raised his left hand at the same 
 time, and pointed with his thumb over his shoul- 
 der to the haycock against which he was leaning. 
 The adjutant understood him immediately, and 
 let go the end of the chain. Fortunato felt him- 
 self sole possessor of the watch. He jumped up 
 with the agility of a deer, and stood ten paces 
 
16 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 distant from the haycock, which the soldiers at 
 once began to upset. 
 
 It was not long before they saw the hay 
 move, and a bleeding man came out, poniard in 
 hand; when, however, he tried to rise to his feet 
 his stiffening wound prevented him from stand- 
 ing. He fell down. The adjutant threw him- 
 self upon him and snatched away his dagger. 
 He was speedily and strongly bound, in spite of 
 his resistance. 
 
 Gianetto was bound and laid on the ground 
 like a bundle of fagots. He turned his head 
 toward Fortunato, who had come up to him. 
 
 " Son of ," he said to him more in con- 
 tempt than in anger. 
 
 The boy threw to him the silver piece that 
 he had received from him, feeling conscious that 
 he no longer deserved it; but the outlaw took 
 no notice of the action. He merely said in a 
 cool voice to the adjutant — 
 
 " My dear Gamba, I can not walk; you will 
 be obliged to carry me to the town." 
 
 " You could run as fast as a kid just now," 
 his captor retorted brutally. " But don't be 
 anxious, I am glad enough to have caught you: 
 I would carry you for a league on my own back 
 and not feel tired. All the same, my friend, we 
 will make a litter for you out of the branches 
 
MATEO FALCONE 17 
 
 and your cloak. The farm at Crespoli will pro- 
 vide us with horses," 
 
 " All right," said the prisoner; " I hope you 
 will put a httle straw on your htter to make it 
 easier for me." 
 
 While the soldiers were busy, some making 
 a rough stretcher out of chestnut boughs and 
 others dressing Gianetto's wound, Mateo Fal- 
 cone and his wife suddenly appeared in a turn- 
 ing of the path from the mdquis. The wife came 
 in bending laboriously under the weight of a 
 huge sack of chestnuts, while her husband 
 jaunted up carrying his gun in one hand, and 
 a second gun slung in his shoulder-belt. It is 
 considered undignified for a man to carry any 
 other burden but his weapons. 
 
 When he saw the soldiers, Mateo's first 
 thought was that they had come to arrest him. 
 But he had no ground for this fear, he had never 
 quarrelled with the law. On the contrary he 
 bore a good reputation. He was, as the saying 
 is, particularly well thought of. But he was a 
 Corsican, and mountain bred, and there are but 
 few Corsican mountaineers who, if they search 
 their memories sufiiciently, can not recall some 
 little peccadillo, some gunshot, or dagger thrust, 
 or such-like bagatelle. Mateo's conscience was 
 clearer than most, for it was fully ten years since 
 
18 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 he had pointed his gun at any man; yet at the 
 same time he was cautious, and he prepared to 
 make a brave defence if needs be. 
 
 " Wife, put down your sack," he said, " and 
 keep yourself in readiness." 
 
 She obeyed immediately. He gave her the 
 gun which was slung over his shoulder, as it was 
 likely to be the one that would inconvenience him 
 the most. He held the other gun in readiness, 
 and proceeded leisurely toward the house by the 
 side of the trees which bordered the path, ready 
 to throw himself behind the largest trunk for 
 cover, and to fire at the least sign of hostility. 
 His wife walked close behind him holding her 
 reloaded gun and her cartridges. It was the 
 duty of a good housewife, in case of a conflict, 
 to reload her husband's arms. 
 
 On his side, the adjutant was very uneasy 
 at the sight of Mateo advancing thus upon them 
 with measured steps, his gun pointed and finger 
 on trigger. 
 
 "If it happens that Gianetto is related to 
 Mateo," thought he, "or he is his friend, and 
 he means to protect him, two of his bullets will 
 be put into two of us as sure as a letter goes to 
 the post, and he will aim at me in spite of our 
 kinship! . . ." 
 
 In this perplexity, he put on a bold face and 
 
MATEO FALCONE 19 
 
 went forward alone toward Mateo to tell him 
 what had happened, greeting him like an old ac- 
 quaintance. But the brief interval which sep- 
 arated him from Mateo seemed to him of terribly 
 long duration. 
 
 "Hullo I Ah! my old comrade," he called 
 out. " How are you, old fellow? I am your 
 cousin Gamba." 
 
 Mateo did not say a word, but stood still ; and 
 while the other was speaking, he softly raised 
 the muzzle of his rifle in such a manner that by 
 the time the adjutant came up to him it was 
 pointing skyward. 
 
 " Good day, brother," * said the adjutant, 
 holding out his hand. "It is a very long time 
 since I saw you." 
 
 " Good day, brother." 
 
 " I just called in when passing to say ' good 
 day ' to you and cousin Pepa. We have done 
 a long tramp to-day; but we must not complain 
 of fatigue, for we have taken a fine catch. We 
 have got hold of Gianetto Sanpiero." 
 
 "Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Giuseppa. 
 " He stole one of our milch goats last week." 
 
 Gamba rejoiced at these words. 
 
 " Poor devil! " said Mateo, " he was hungry." 
 
 " The fellow fought like a lion," continued 
 
 *The ordinary greeting of Corsicans. 
 
20 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 the adjutant, slightly nettled. " He killed one 
 of the men, and, not content to stop there, he 
 broke Corporal Chardon's arm; but that is not 
 of much consequence, for he is only a French- 
 man. . . . Then he hid himself so cleverly 
 that the devil could not have found him. If it 
 had not been for my little cousin Fortunato, I 
 should never have discovered him." 
 
 " Fortunato? " cried Mateo. 
 
 "Fortunato?" repeated Giuseppa. 
 
 " Yes; Gianetto was concealed in your hay- 
 cock there, but my little cousin showed me his 
 trick. I will speak of him to his uncle the cor- 
 poral, who will send him a nice present as a 
 reward. And both his name and yours will be 
 in the report which I shall send to the superin- 
 tendent." 
 
 " Curse you! " cried Mateo under his breath. 
 
 By this time they had rejoined the company. 
 Gianetto was already laid on his litter, and they 
 were ready to set out. When he saw Mateo in 
 Gamba's company he smiled a strange smile; 
 then, turning toward the door of the house, he 
 spat on the threshold. 
 
 " It is the house of a traitor! " he exclaimed. 
 
 No man but one willing to die would have 
 dared to utter the word " traitor " in connection 
 with Falcone. A quick stroke from a dagger, 
 
MATEO FALCONE 21 
 
 without need for a second, would have immedi- 
 ately wiped out the insult. But Mateo made no 
 other movement beyond putting his hand to his 
 head like a dazed man. 
 
 Fortunato went into the house when he saw 
 his father come up. He reappeared shortly car- 
 rying a jug of milk, which he offered with down- 
 cast eyes to Gianetto. 
 
 " Keep off me! " roared the outlaw. 
 
 Then, turning to one of the soldiers, he said — 
 
 " Comrade, give me a drink of water." 
 
 The soldier placed the flask in his hands, and 
 the bandit drank the water given him by a man 
 with whom he had but now exchanged gunshots. 
 He then asked that his hands might be tied 
 crossed over his breast instead of behind his 
 back. 
 
 " I prefer," he said, " to lie down comfort- 
 ably." 
 
 They granted him his request. Then, at a 
 sign from the adjutant, they set out, first bidding 
 adieu to Mateo, who answered never a word, and 
 descended at a quick pace toward the plain. 
 
 Well-nigh ten minutes elapsed before Mateo 
 opened his mouth. The child looked uneasily 
 first at his mother, then at his father, who leant 
 on his gun, looking at him with an expression of 
 concentrated anger. 
 
22 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 " Well, you have made a pretty beginning," 
 said Mateo at last in a voice calm, but terrify- 
 ing, to those who knew the man. 
 
 " Father," the boy cried out, with tears in his 
 eyes, just ready to fall at his knees. 
 
 " Out of my sight! " shouted Mateo. 
 
 The child stopped motionless a few steps off 
 his father, and began to sob. 
 
 Giuseppa came near him. She had just seen 
 the end of the watch-chain hanging from out his 
 shirt. 
 
 " Who gave you that watch? " she asked se- 
 verely. 
 
 " My cousin the adjutant." 
 
 Falcone seized the watch, and threw it against 
 a stone with such force that it broke into a 
 thousand pieces. 
 
 " Woman," he said, " is this my child? " 
 
 Giuseppa's brown cheeks flamed brick-red. 
 
 "What are you saying, Mateo? Do you 
 know to whom you are speaking? " 
 
 " Yes, very well. This child is the first 
 traitor of his race." 
 
 Fortunato's sobs and hiccoughs redoubled, 
 and Falcone kept his lynx eyes steadily fixed on 
 him. At length he struck the ground with the 
 butt end of his gun; then he flung it across his 
 shoulder, retook the way to the mdquis, and or- 
 
Giuseppa ran after Mateo, and seized him by 
 the arm. " He is your son,'' she said. 
 Etched by Gery Bichard from a painfiiig by 
 
 Lvc Olivier Merson. 
 
':m 
 
 o 
 
 luo Olivier Merson inv ^Sjwiy/^/filfX^ 'f>^iJ:J^ ?^i>^- 
 
 G^/- Bichard s 
 
MATEO FALCONE 23 
 
 dered Fortunato to follow him. The child 
 obeyed. 
 
 Giuseppa ran after Mateo, and seized him 
 by the arm. 
 
 " He is your son," she said in a trembling 
 voice, fixing her black eyes on those of her hus- 
 band, as though to read all that was passing in 
 his mind. 
 
 " Leave go," replied Mateo; " I am his fa- 
 ther." 
 
 Giuseppa kissed her son, and went back cry- 
 ing into the hut. She threw herself on her knees 
 before an image of the Virgin, and prayed fer- 
 vently. When Falcone had walked about two 
 hundred yards along the path he stopped at a 
 little ravine and went down into it. He sounded 
 the ground with the butt end of his gun, and 
 found it soft and easy to dig. The spot seemed 
 suitable to his purpose. 
 
 " Fortunato, go near to that large rock." 
 
 The boy did as he was told, then knelt down. 
 
 " Father, father, do not kiE me! " 
 
 " Say your prayers ! " repeated Mateo in a 
 terrible voice. 
 
 The child repeated the Lord's Prayer and the 
 Creed, stammering and sobbing. The father 
 said "Amen!" in a firm voice at the close of 
 each prayer. 
 
24 MATEO FALCONE 
 
 " Are those all the prayers you know? " 
 
 " I know also the Ave Maria and Litany, 
 that my aunt taught me, father." 
 
 " It is long, but never mind." 
 
 The child finished the Litany in a faint voice. 
 
 " Have you finished? " 
 
 " Oh, father, forgive me! forgive me! I will 
 never do it again. I will beg my cousin the cor- 
 poral with all my might to pardon Gianetto! " 
 
 He went on imploring. Mateo loaded his 
 rifle and took aim. 
 
 " May God forgive you! " he said. 
 
 The boy made a frantic effort to get up and 
 clasp his father's knees, but he had no time. 
 Mateo fired, and Fortunato fell stone dead. 
 
 Without throwing a single glance at the 
 body, Mateo went back to his house to fetch a 
 spade with which to bury his son. He had only 
 returned a little way along the path when he 
 met Giuseppa, who had run out alarmed by the 
 sound of faring. 
 
 " What have you done? " she cried. 
 
 "Justice!" 
 
 " Where is he? " 
 
 " In the ravine ; I am going to bury him. He 
 died a Christian. I shall have a mass sung for 
 him. Let someone tell my son-in-law Tiodoro 
 Bianchi to come and live with us." 
 
 1829 
 
THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 
 
 Vision de Charles XI 
 
THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 
 
 *' There are more things in heav'n and earth, Horatio, 
 Than are dreamt of in your philosophy." 
 
 Shakspeare: Hamlet. 
 
 THOUGH people laugh at visions and 
 supernatural apparitions, several have 
 been too well authenticated to be dis- 
 credited, for, should one be consistent, it would 
 be necessary to ignore the whole witness of his- 
 toric evidence. 
 
 A correctly drawn-up report, signed by four 
 reliable witnesses, is the guarantee of the truth 
 of the incident about to be related. I should add 
 that the prediction set forth in this report was 
 so set forth and cited a very long time before 
 the events occurred in our days which seemed to 
 fulfil it. 
 
 Charles XI, father of the famous Charles 
 XII, was a most despotic king, but at the same 
 time the wisest of the monarchs who have reigned 
 over Sweden. He restricted the overbearing 
 privileges of the nobility, abolished the power 
 of the Senate, and created laws by his own au- 
 
 27 
 
28 THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 
 
 thority; in fact, he changed the constitution of 
 the country, which before was an oUgarchy, and 
 compelled the states to vest the absolute control 
 in him. He was, besides, an enlightened man, 
 steadfastly attached to the Lutheran religion, 
 brave, of an inflexible, self-contained, decided 
 character, and entirely devoid of imagination. 
 
 He had just lost his wife, Ulrique Eleonore. 
 Although it is said that his severity had hastened 
 her end, he held her in esteem, and appeared 
 more affected by her death than would have been 
 expected of a man so hard of heart. After that 
 event he grew still more taciturn and gloomy 
 than before, and gave himself up to work with 
 an apphcation that showed an urgent desire to 
 dispel sad thoughts. 
 
 At the close of one autumn evening he was 
 sitting in his private apartment in the Stock- 
 holm Palace, in his dressing-gown and slippers, 
 before a great fire. With him was his chamber- 
 lain, Count Brahe, who was one of his most fa- 
 voured courtiers, and his physician, Baumgarten, 
 who, it may be remarked in passing, set up for 
 a sceptic, and who would have liked people to 
 disbelieve in everything but in medicine. This 
 night he had been summoned to advise on some 
 slight ailment. 
 
 The evening lengthened, but contrary to his 
 
THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 29 
 
 habit the King made no sign of dismissal to his 
 companions. He sat in deep silence, his head 
 lowered, and his eyes fixed upon the burning 
 logs, wearied of their company, but afraid, with- 
 out knowing why, of being left alone. Count 
 Brahe had shrewdly observed that his presence 
 was distasteful to the King, and had several 
 times hinted that he feared His Majesty was 
 in need of repose; but the King had signified 
 by a gesture that he wished him to remain. The 
 physician, in his turn, spoke of the ill-effects 
 to health of keeping late hours. Charles only 
 muttered, " Stay where you are; I have no de- 
 sire to sleep yet." 
 
 At this stage the courtiers tried several dif- 
 ferent topics of conversation, but all fell flat at 
 the end of the second or third sentence. It was 
 evident that His Majesty was in one of his 
 black moods, and in such circumstance the posi- 
 tion of a courtier is decidedly delicate. Count 
 Brahe, suspecting that the King was brooding 
 over the loss of his wife, gazed for some time at 
 the portrait of the Queen which hung on the 
 wall of the room, and remarked with a deep 
 sigh — 
 
 "What an excellent likeness! Just the 
 expression she wore, so majestic and yet so 
 gentle." 
 
30 THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 
 
 " Bah! " the King broke in rudely. " That 
 portrait is too flattering. The Queen was ugly." 
 
 He was always suspicious of there being un- 
 derlying reproaches whenever anyone mentioned 
 her name in his presence. Then, vexed at his 
 harsliness, he rose and paced the room to hide a 
 Tjlush of shame. He stopped in front of the 
 window which looked on to the courtyard. 
 
 It was a dark night and the moon was in its 
 first quarter. The palace in which the Kings of 
 Sweden now reside was not then finished, so 
 that Charles XI, who had begun it, lived then 
 in the old palace on the promontory of Ritter- 
 hohn overlooking the Lake Moeler. It was a 
 vast building in the form of a horse-shoe. The 
 King's cabinet was at one of the extremities, and 
 nearly, opposite it was the large audience hall 
 where Parliament assembled to receive communi- 
 cations from the Crown. 
 
 The windows of this chamber appeared to 
 be illuminated with a bright light. This struck 
 the King as strange, but at first he thought the 
 light might be produced by the torch of some 
 valet. Still, what could anybody be doing there 
 at such an hour, and in a room which had not 
 been opened for some time? Besides, the light 
 was too bright to proceed from a single torch. 
 It might be the work of an incendiary, but 
 
THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 31 
 
 there was no smoke, and the windows were not 
 broken. 
 
 Charles watched the windows some time in 
 silence. No sound could be heard ; everything be- 
 tokened simply an illumination. Meanwhile 
 Count Brahe extended his hand toward the bell- 
 rope to summon a page in order to send him to 
 find out the cause of this singular light, but the 
 King stopped him. " I will go to the hall my- 
 self," he said. 
 
 Whilst he spoke they saw his face grow 
 pale with superstitious fear; but he went out 
 with a firm tread, followed by the chamber- 
 lain and physician, each holding a lighted 
 candle. 
 
 Baumgarten went to rouse the sleeping por- 
 ter who had charge of the keys with an order 
 from the King to open immediately the doors of 
 the assembly hall. The man was greatly sur- 
 prised at this unexpected order. He dressed him- 
 self quickly, and joined the King with his bunch 
 of keys. At first he opened the door of a gal- 
 lery which was used as an antechamber or private 
 entrance to the assembly hall. The King en- 
 tered. Imagine his surprise at finding the walls 
 completely draped in black. 
 
 " Who gave the order for hanging this room 
 thus? " he demanded angrily. 
 
32 THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 
 
 " No one, Sire, to my knowledge," replied 
 the uneasy porter. " The last time I swept out 
 the gallery it was panelled, as it always has 
 been, ... I am certain this hanging never 
 came out of Your Majesty's depository." 
 
 The King, walking at a rapid pace, had al- 
 ready traversed more than two-thirds of the gal- 
 lery. The Count and porter followed closely; 
 the physician Baumgarten was a little be- 
 hind, divided between his fears of being left 
 alone and of being exposed to the consequences 
 of what promised to be such a strange ad- 
 venture. 
 
 " Go no further. Sire," exclaimed the porter. 
 " Upon my soul, there is sorcery behind this. At 
 such an hour . . . and since the death of 
 the Queen, your gracious wife . . , they say 
 she walks in this gallery. . . . May God 
 protect us! " 
 
 " Stop, Sire," entreated the Count in turn. 
 " Do you not hear the noise that comes from 
 the assembly hall? Who knows to what dangers 
 Your Majesty may be exposed? " 
 
 " Sire," broke in Baumgarten, whose candle 
 had just been blown out by a gust of wind, " at 
 least allow me to go and fetch a score of your hal- 
 berdiers." 
 
 " Let us go in," said the King sternly, stop- 
 
THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 33 
 
 ping before the door of the great apartment. 
 " Porter, open the door immediately." 
 
 He kicked it with his feet, and the noise, 
 echoing from the roof, resounded along the gal- 
 lery like the report of a cannon. 
 
 The porter trembled so much that he could 
 not find the keyhole. 
 
 "An old soldier trembling!" said Charles, 
 shrugging his shoulders, " Come, Count, you 
 open the door." 
 
 " Sire," replied the Count, recoiling a step, 
 " if Your Majesty commanded me to walk up 
 to the mouth of a German or a Danish cannon 
 I would obey unhesitatingly, but you wish me 
 to defy the powers of hell." 
 
 The King snatched the key from the hands 
 of the porter. 
 
 " I quite see," he observed contemptuously, 
 " that I must attend this matter myself," and 
 before his suite could stay him he had opened 
 the heavy oaken door and entered the great hall, 
 pronouncing the words " By the power of God! " 
 His three acolytes, urged by a curiosity stronger 
 than their fear — and perhaps ashamed to de- 
 sert their King — ^went in after him. The great 
 hall was lighted up by innumerable torches, and 
 the old figured tapestry had been replaced by 
 black hangings. Along the walls hung, as 
 
34 THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 
 
 usual, the German, Danish, and Russian flags — 
 trophies taken by the soldiers of Gustavus Adol- 
 phus. In their midst were the Swedish banners, 
 covered with crape as for a funeral. 
 
 An immense assembly fiUed the seats. The 
 four orders of the State (the nobihty, clergy, 
 citizens and peasants) were arranged in their 
 proper order. All were clothed in black, and 
 this array of human faces, lit up against a dark 
 background, so dazzled the eyes of the four wit- 
 nesses of this extraordinary scene that not one 
 figure was recognisable in the crowd. Thus an 
 actor who stands before a large audience is not 
 able to distinguish a single individual; he sees 
 but a confused mass of faces. 
 
 Seated on the raised throne from which the 
 King usually addressed his Parliament, they saw 
 a bleeding corpse clothed in the royal insignia. 
 At his right stood a child with a crown on his 
 head and a sceptre in his hand; at his left an 
 old man, or rather another spectre, leant against 
 the throne. He wore the State cloak as used 
 by the former adminstrators of Sweden before 
 Vasa had made it a kingdom. In front of the 
 throne, seated before a table covered with large 
 books and rolls of docimients, were several grave 
 and austere-looking personages, clothed in long 
 black robes, who looked like judges. Between 
 
THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 35 
 
 the throne and the seats of the assembly a block 
 was raised covered with black crape; against it 
 lay an axe. 
 
 No one in that supernatural assembly seemed 
 to notice the presence of Charles and the three 
 people with him. At their entry they could only 
 hear at first a confused murmur of inarticulate 
 words; then the oldest of the black-robed judges 
 arose — ^the one who seemed to be the president — 
 and struck the book which lay open in front of 
 him three times with his hand. Deep silence 
 immediately followed. Then there came into the 
 hall by a door opposite to that by which Charles 
 had entered several young men of noble bearing 
 and richly clad. Their hands were tied behind 
 their backs, but they walked with heads erect 
 and confident looks. Behind them a stalwart 
 man in a jerkin of brown leather held the ends 
 of the cords which bound their hands. The 
 most important of the prisoners — ^he who walked 
 first — stopped in the middle of the hall before 
 the block and looked at it with supreme disdain. 
 While this was going on the corpse seemed to 
 shake convulsively, and a fresh stream of crim- 
 son blood flowed out of its wound. The youth 
 kneeled down and laid his head on the block, the 
 axe flashed in the air and the sound of its descent 
 followed immediately. A stream of blood 
 
36 THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 
 
 gushed over the dais and mingled with that 
 from the corpse ; the head bounded several times 
 on the crimsoned pavement, and then rolled 
 at the feet of Charles. It dyed him with its 
 blood. 
 
 Up to this moment surprise had held the 
 King dumb, but this frightful spectacle un- 
 loosed his tongue. He stepped forward toward 
 the dais, and, addressing himself to the figure 
 who was clothed in the administrator's robes, he 
 pronounced boldly the weU-known form of 
 words — 
 
 " If thou art of God, speak; if thou art from 
 the Other, leave us in peace." 
 
 The phantom spoke to him slowly in solemn 
 tones — 
 
 " King Chahles! this blood wiU not be shed 
 during your reign . . . " (here the voice grew 
 less distinct) " but five reigns later. Woe, woe, 
 woe to the House of Vasa! " 
 
 Then the spectres of the countless personages 
 who formed this extraordinary assembly gradu- 
 ally became fainter, until they soon looked like 
 coloured shadows, and then they completely dis- 
 appeared. All the fantastic lights were extin- 
 guished, and those of Charles and his suite 
 revealed only the old tapestries, slightly waving 
 in the draught. They heard for some time after- 
 
THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 37 
 
 ward a melodious sound, which one of the 
 witnesses described as like the sighing of wind 
 amongst leaves, and another to the rasping sound 
 given by the strings of a harp that is being tuned. 
 All agreed as to the duration of the apparition, 
 which they judged to have lasted about ten 
 minutes. 
 
 The black draperies, the dissevered head, the 
 drops of blood which had stained the dais — aU 
 had vanished with the phantoms; only upon 
 Charles's slipper was there a bloodstain. This 
 was the sole witness left by which to recall the 
 scene of that night, had it not been sufficiently 
 engraved upon his memory. 
 
 When the King returned to his chamber he 
 had an account written of what he had seen, 
 signed it himself, and caused it to be signed by 
 his fellow-witnesses. In spite of the precautions 
 taken to keep the contents of this document secret 
 it was soon known, even during the lifetime of 
 Charles XI. It still exists, and up to the pres- 
 ent time no one has thought fit to throw doubts 
 upon its authenticity. In it the King concludes 
 with these remarkable words :— 
 
 " And if that which I herein relate is not the 
 simple truth, I renounce all my hope in the life 
 to come, the which I may have merited for some 
 good deeds done, and, above all, for my zeal in 
 
38 THE VISION OF CHARLES XI 
 
 working for the welfare of my people, and in 
 preserving the faith of my forefathers." 
 
 Now, when the reader recollects the death of 
 Gustavus III, and the doom of Ankarstroem, 
 his assassin, they wiU find more than a mere 
 coincidence between that event and the circimi- 
 stances of this extraordinary prophecy. 
 
 The young man beheaded before the States 
 Assembly should be called Ankarstroem. 
 
 The crowned corpse should be Gustavus III. 
 
 The child, his son and successor, Gustavus 
 Adolphus IV. 
 
 Finally, the old man was the Duke of Su- 
 dermania, uncle of Gustavus IV, regent of the 
 Crown, and, in the end, King, after the deposi- 
 tion of his nephew. 
 
THE TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 
 
 UEnlevement de la Redoute 
 
THE TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 
 
 A MILITARY friend of mine, who died 
 of fever in Greece some years ago, re- 
 lated to me one day the story of the first 
 engagement in which he had taken part. His 
 narrative was so striking that I wrote it down 
 from memory as soon as I had an opportunity. 
 It is as follows: — 
 
 On the evening of the 4th September I re- 
 joined my regiment. I found the colonel in 
 bivouac. At first he received me rather coolly, 
 
 but, after having read General B 's letter of 
 
 recommendation, his manner changed, and he 
 said a few kind words. 
 
 He introduced me to my captain, who had 
 just returned from a reconnoitring expedition. 
 This captain, whose acquaintance I had scarcely 
 the time to make, was a tall, dark man, with a 
 severe and forbidding expression. He had been 
 a cormnon soldier, and had won his commission 
 and the cross on the battlefield. His voice was 
 weak and hoarse, and contrasted strangely with 
 his almost gigantic height, I was told that this 
 
 41 
 
42 TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 
 
 strange voice was due to a ball which had pierced 
 him through at the Battle of Jena. 
 
 On hearing that I came from the school at 
 Fontainebleau he shrugged his shoulders and 
 said, " My lieutenant died yesterday." I under- 
 stood that he meant to imply, " You are intended 
 to take his place, and you are not up to it." A 
 cutting reply rose to my lips, but I restrained 
 myself. 
 
 Behind Fort Cheverino, which stood about 
 two gunshots oiF our bivouac, rose the moon. It 
 was large and red as it usually is when rising. 
 But this evening it seemed to me to have an un- 
 usual splendour. For an instant the fort stood 
 outhned in black against the shining orb, which 
 looked hke the cone of a volcano during erup- 
 tion. An old soldier, near whom I was standing, 
 remarked on the moon's colour. 
 
 " How very red it is! " he said; " it is a sign 
 that it will cost much to take this precious fort." 
 
 I was always superstitious, and this omen, 
 above aU at such a moment, impressed me 
 greatly. I laid myself down, but could not 
 sleep. I got up and walked about for some time, 
 watching the long lines of fire scattered over the 
 heights beyond the village of Cheverino. 
 
 When I thought the fresh, sharp night air 
 had sufficiently quickened my blood, I returned 
 
TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 43 
 
 to the fire. I wrapped myself carefully in my 
 cloak and closed my eyes, thinking not to open 
 them before the morning. But sleep obstinately 
 evaded me. Gradually my thoughts took a mel- 
 ancholy hue. I told myself I had not one friend 
 amongst the hundred thousand men who covered 
 that plain. If I were wounded I should go to 
 the hospital, there to be treated without consid- 
 eration by ignorant surgeons. All I had heard 
 of surgical operations returned to my memory. 
 My heart beat fast, and instinctively I arranged 
 my handkerchief and pocket-book over my breast 
 as a kind of cuirass. I was overcome with weari- 
 ness, and I became more drowsy each moment, 
 but at each moment some dark thought sprang 
 up with greater force and woke me into a start. 
 
 Nevertheless weariness overcame me, and, 
 when the reveille sounded, I was fast asleep. We 
 fell into our ranks; the roll was called; then we 
 piled arms again, and everything suggested that 
 we were going to pass a quiet day. 
 
 About three o'clock an aide-de-camp arrived, 
 bearing a despatch, and we were ordered to shoul- 
 der arms. Our skirmishers scattered themselves 
 over the plain; we followed them slowly, and in 
 about twenty minutes' time we saw all the out- 
 posts of the Russians fall back and re-enter the 
 fort. 
 
M TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 
 
 One battery of artillery was on our right, an- 
 other on our left, but both were well in advance 
 of us. They opened a sharp fire on the enemy, 
 who answered briskly; and very soon the fort of 
 Cheverino was hidden under thick clouds of 
 smoke. 
 
 Our regiment was almost protected from the 
 Russian fire by a ridge of earth. Since they 
 aimed rather at our artillery than at us, their 
 balls passed over our heads, or at the most cast 
 earth and small stone at us. 
 
 The moment the order to advance was given 
 us my captain looked at me so closely that I felt 
 impelled to stroke my budding moustache two 
 or three times with as nonchalant an air as pos- 
 sible. In fact, I had no fear ; my only dread was 
 that people might think me afraid. Further- 
 more, these inoffensive shots contributed to keep 
 me in a calm state of mind. My vanity told me 
 that I was really in danger, being at last under 
 battery fire. I was delighted to find myself so 
 cool, and I dreamed of the pleasure of relating 
 
 in the drawing-room of Madame B , Rue 
 
 de Provence, the story of the taking of the fort 
 of Cheverino. 
 
 The colonel rode past our company and said 
 to me, " Well, you are going to get it hot at your 
 first battle." 
 
TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 45 
 
 I smiled with a truly military air, at the 
 same time brushing from my sleeve some dust 
 which a ball thirty paces off had thrown up. 
 
 It was evident that the Russians had noticed 
 the miscarriage of their baUs, for they replaced 
 them by shells which could more easily reach us 
 in the hollow where we were posted. One that 
 burst near by knocked off my cap and killed a 
 man close to me. 
 
 " I congratulate you," said the captain to 
 me, as I picked up my cap. " Now you are safe 
 for the day." 
 
 I was acquainted with the soldier's supersti- 
 tion that the axiom non his in idem holds good 
 as much on the battlefield as in the court of jus^ 
 tice. I replaced my cap jauntily. 
 
 " That's a free and easy kind of greeting," 
 I rephed as jovially as possible. This poor joke 
 seemed excellent under the circumstances. 
 
 " You are lucky," said the captain; " you 
 need not fear anything more, and you will com- 
 mand a company to-night. I know very well 
 that a bullet for me will find its billet to-day. 
 Each time I have been wounded the officer next 
 to me has been grazed by a spent buUet, and," 
 he added in a lower and half -ashamed tone, 
 " their names always began with a P." 
 
 I took courage ; most people would have done 
 
46 TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 
 
 the same; most people would have been equally 
 struck with such prophetic words. Conscript as 
 I was, I did not think I could confide my feelings 
 to anybody. I thought I ought always to appear 
 cool and brave. 
 
 About half an hour after, the fire of the 
 Russians slackened considerably: then we sallied 
 out of our cover to storm the fort. 
 
 Our regiment was composed of three bat- 
 talions. The second was ordered to outflank the 
 fort from the side of the gorge; the other two 
 were to make the assault. I was in the third 
 battalion. 
 
 Coming out from behind the buttress which 
 had protected us, we were greeted by several 
 rounds of fire, which did but httle harm in our 
 ranks. The whistling of the balls startled me: 
 I kept looking round, thus bringing upon myself 
 joking remarks from my more seasoned com- 
 rades. 
 
 " Upon the whole," I said, " a battle is not 
 so very dreadful." 
 
 We advanced at the double, preceded by our 
 sharpshooters ; suddenly the Russians gave three 
 cheers, three distinct hurrahs, then they stopped 
 firing and became silent. 
 
 " I do not like that silence," said my cap- 
 tain; " it bodes no good to us." 
 
TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 47 
 
 I thought our men were a little too noisy, 
 and I could not help inwardly contrasting their 
 tumultuous clamour with the impressive silence 
 of the enemy. 
 
 We quickly reached the outskirts of the fort, 
 where the palisades had been broken and the 
 earth thrown up by our balls. The soldiers leapt 
 upon this newly broken ground with shouts of 
 "Vive I'Empereur!" more loudly than one 
 could have thought possible from men who had 
 already shouted so much. 
 
 I raised my eyes, and never shall I forget the 
 spectacle before me. Most of the smoke had 
 risen, and was hanging like a canopy about 
 twenty feet above the fort. Through the blue 
 haze I could see the Russian Grenadiers, with 
 arms fixed, like motionless statues, behind their 
 half -destroyed parapet. I can see now each sol- 
 dier, his left eye fixed on us, his right hidden by 
 his raised gun. In an embrasure a few feet 
 from us a man was holding a lighted fuse to a 
 cannon. 
 
 I shuddered, and I thought my last hour had 
 come. 
 
 " Now the fun begins," cried my captain. 
 "Here goes!" 
 
 These were the last words I heard him speak. 
 
 A roU of drums sounded in the fort. I saw 
 
48 TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 
 
 all the muskets levelled. I closed my eyes, and 
 heard an appalling uproar, followed by shrieks 
 and groans. I opened my eyes, surprised to find 
 myself still alive. The fort was again wrapped 
 in smoke. I was surrounded with wounded and 
 dying. My captain lay stretched at my feet : his 
 head had been smashed by a ball, and I was cov- 
 ered with his brains and blood. Out of all my 
 company there were only six men and myself 
 left standing. 
 
 A moment of stupor followed this carnage. 
 The colonel, putting his hat on the end of his 
 sword, was the first to climb the parapet, shout- 
 ing "Vive I'Empereur!" He was soon fol- 
 lowed by all the survivors. I can not remember 
 clearly what followed. I do not know how we 
 entered the fort. We fought hand to hand in 
 such a dense smoke that we could not see. I 
 suppose I hit, for I found my sabre covered 
 with blood. At last I heard the shout " Vic- 
 tory ! " and, the smoke clearing away, I saw the 
 ground of the fort covered with blood and 
 corpses. The guns especially were buried under 
 heaps of dead. Scattered about in disorder 
 stood about two hundred men in French uni- 
 form: some were loading their pieces, others 
 wiping their bayonets. Eleven Russian prison- 
 ers were with them. 
 
TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 49 
 
 The colonel was lying covered with blood on 
 a broken ammunition box near the gorge. Sev- 
 eral soldiers crowded round him. I joined them. 
 
 " Where is the senior captain? " he asked one 
 of the sergeants. 
 
 The sergeant shrugged his shoulders in a 
 significant way. 
 
 "And the senior lieutenant?" 
 
 " Here is the gentleman who came yester- 
 day," said the sergeant in a perfectly calm voice. 
 
 The colonel smiled bitterly. 
 
 " Well, monsieur, you are commander-in- 
 chief," said he to me. " Have the gorge of the 
 fort fortified at once with these waggons. The 
 
 enemy is in force, but General C is coming 
 
 to support you." 
 
 " Colonel," I said to him, " you are badly 
 wounded." 
 
 " A fig for that, my lad. We have taken the 
 redoubt!" 
 
TAMANGO 
 
TAMANGO 
 
 CAPTAIN LEDOUX was a born sailor. 
 He had started at the bottom and 
 worked his way up to the rank of as- 
 sistant quarter-master. At the battle of Trafal- 
 gar his left hand was so severely damaged by 
 sphnters of wood that he had to have it ampu- 
 tated, and, consequently, he received his dis- 
 charge, together with first-rate testimonials. 
 The quiet monotony of home Hf e was distasteful 
 to him, and, when he was offered the post of 
 second lieutenant on board a corsair, he eagerly 
 seized the opportunity of going to sea again. 
 The money which came to him as his share of a 
 few captures enabled him to buy books and to 
 study the theory of navigation as a supplement 
 to the practical knowledge he already possessed. 
 In due time he became captain of a pirate lugger 
 which could boast of three guns and a crew of 
 sixty dauntless sailors: the longshoremen of 
 Jersey still remember the exploits of this pirate 
 lugger. Then came the peace, which was a 
 great grief to him; he had amassed a consider- 
 
 63 
 
54 TAMANGO 
 
 able amount of money during the war and had 
 looked forward to increase his little fortune at 
 the expense of the English. But he was obliged 
 to offer his services to peaceful merchants; and, 
 as he was known to be a man of courage and 
 experience, he had no difficulty in finding a ship. 
 When slave trading was prohibited by law it 
 could not be undertaken without running great 
 risks, for it was necessary not only to evade the 
 watchfulness of the French Customs officers 
 (which was not so very difficult) , but also to 
 escape being captured by English cruisers. 
 Captain Ledoux proved invaluable to these 
 " ebony " * merchants. 
 
 Unlike the majority of sailors who spend 
 many years in subordinate positions. Captain Le- 
 doux had not that deep-rooted dread of innova- 
 tion, nor that innate feehng of routine, which 
 even their elevation to higher rank is seldom able 
 to expunge. On the contrary, he was the first 
 to suggest to his ship-builder the use of metal 
 tanks for holding fresh water. He had the 
 handcuffs, too, and the chains — indispensable 
 articles on board such vessels — made in a par- 
 ticular fashion and carefully varnished to pre- 
 vent their rusting. But that for which he was 
 well known to all the slave traders was the brig 
 
 * Slave dealers used to style themselves ebony merchants. 
 
TAMANGO 55 
 
 he had had constructed under his personal su- 
 pervision and according to his own ideas. He 
 had christened her Hope. Built for slave trad- 
 ing, she was a fast sailer, narrow and long like 
 a war-ship, and yet able to hold a great number 
 of blacks. He had had the 'tween decks made 
 narrower and less lofty; had reduced the height 
 to forty inches, declaring that that left sufficient 
 room for any nigger of reasonable stature to sit 
 at ease — ^why should they want to stand up? 
 There would be more than enough standing for 
 them when they reached the colonies, he ex- 
 plained. 
 
 The slaves would sit with their backs against 
 the sides of the ship in two parallel lines, leav- 
 ing a free space between their feet which, in 
 all other slave ships, was only used as a gang- 
 way. It was Ledoux's idea to make use of this 
 free space by putting more slaves there, forcing 
 them to sit at right angles to the others. In this 
 way his brig would hold at least ten slaves more 
 than any other ship of the same size. In case 
 of need, more still could have been put on board, 
 but he was considerate enough to insist that each 
 nigger should have a space measuring about five 
 foot by two in which to stretch his limbs during 
 the six weeks' journey. For, after all, niggers 
 were human beings like the white men, he ex- 
 
56 TAIVIANGO 
 
 plained to the shipwright, as an excuse for his 
 generous treatment. 
 
 The Hope weighed anchor in the port of 
 Nantes on a Friday — a fact which superstitious 
 people subsequently recaUed. The Customs offi- 
 cers who visited the brig for the purpose of 
 inspecting everything on board did not come 
 across six large cases full of chains, handcuffs, 
 and those irons which were for some unknown 
 reason called " bonds of justice." The very con- 
 siderable supply of fresh water which had been 
 stowed on board did not seem to astonish them, 
 in spite of the fact that the Hope (according to 
 her bills) was only going to Senegambia for the 
 purpose of trading in wood and ivory. The 
 journey was certainly not a long one, but per- 
 haps they thought there was no harm in erring 
 on the safe side — for the water would be invalu- 
 able if they happened to be becalmed. 
 
 So the good ship Hope set sail on a Friday, 
 thoroughly well provisioned and equipped. Le- 
 doux fancied at first that the masts seemed 
 hardly stout enough; but in the course of time 
 he found that the vessel fulfilled his expecta- 
 tions in every way. They had a first-rate jour- 
 ney, and the coast of Africa was soon sighted. 
 The anchor was lowered at Joal (if I mistake 
 not) , that portion of the coast being at the time 
 
TAMANGO 57 
 
 unguarded by English cruisers; and the native 
 merchants immediately came on board. 
 
 The moment could not have been more fa- 
 vourable. Tamango, a well-known warrior and 
 slave dealer, had just reached the coast with a 
 convoy of slaves, which he was selling at cheap 
 rates with the confidence of a man who feels that 
 he has the power of meeting any demands as 
 soon as the article of his trade becomes scarcer. 
 
 Captain Ledoux landed at the mouth of the 
 river and called on Tamango. He found him 
 sitting in a straw hut, which had been hastily 
 erected for him, together with his two wives, a 
 few petty traders, and the slave drivers. Ta- 
 mango had felt bound to put some clothes on 
 to receive the white captain. The old blue uni- 
 form which he wore could still be recognised as 
 having been a corporal's, but there were two gold 
 epaulettes on each shoulder, both fastened to 
 the same button and hanging down, one behind, 
 the other in front. As he did not wear a shirt, 
 and the tunic was too small for a man of his 
 stature, a broad zone of black skin was visible 
 between the white facings of the uniform and 
 the canvas breeches. It looked like a belt. A 
 heavy cavalry sword which hung at his side was 
 fastened by a string, and a fine double-barrelled 
 English rifle completed the outfit in which the 
 
58 TAMANGO 
 
 African warrior doubtless considered himself 
 more than a match for the most exquisite dandy 
 from London or Paris. 
 
 Captain Ledoux stared at him for some time 
 in silence, and Tamango, flattered by the behef 
 that he was making a great impression on the 
 white man, drew himself up like a grenadier 
 being inspected by a strange general. Ledoux, 
 after having critically examined him, turned to 
 his chief officer and observed, " There's a piece 
 of brawn which would fetch at least a thousand 
 crowns if we could only land him safe and sound 
 in Martinique." 
 
 As soon as they had sat down the customary 
 greetings were exchanged, a sailor who had a 
 smattering of the Yolof language acting as in- 
 terpreter. A basket full of bottles of brandy 
 was brought, drinking began at once, and the 
 captain thought to propitiate Tamango by 
 making him a present of a fine copper powder- 
 flask with a portrait of Napoleon embossed on 
 it. The gift was acknowledged with the con- 
 ventional show of gratitude. Tamango then 
 suggested that they should go and sit outside in 
 the shade (not forgetting the brandy bottle) and 
 inspect the slaves he had to sell. 
 
 They came forward in a long file, worn out 
 by fear and fatigue, all bearing on their shoul- 
 
TAMANGO 59 
 
 ders a huge fork over two yards long, the two 
 prongs of which were fastened at the back of 
 the neck with a wooden bar. Whenever they set 
 out on a march one of the slave drivers bears on 
 his shoulder the handle of the yoke of the first 
 slave, who carries that of the man behind him; 
 the second slave carries the yoke-handle of the 
 third slave, and so on with the others. When a 
 halt is made, the leader of the file drives the 
 pointed end of his yoke-handle into the ground 
 and the whole column comes to a standstill. Of 
 course, there can be no question of escape from 
 the file with a heavy yoke two yards long fast- 
 ened round one's neck. 
 
 The captain shrugged his shoulders as each 
 slave, male or female, passed before him, he 
 called them puny creatures, said that the females 
 were too old or too young, and complained of 
 the degeneracy of the black race. 
 
 " The whole race is deteriorating," he de- 
 clared. " It used to be quite different in the 
 olden days when every woman was five foot six, 
 and four men could easily have worked a frig- 
 ate's capstan and raised the sheet anchor." 
 
 However, he critically picked out a first as- 
 sortment of blacks, choosing the strong and the 
 good-looking, for which he was willing to pay 
 the usual price ; on the remainder he demanded a 
 
60 TAMANGO 
 
 considerable reduction. But Tamango knew 
 his own mind; he insisted that his wares were 
 valuable, and spoke of the scarcity of men and 
 the dangers of the traffic. He ended by quot- 
 ing the very lowest price he could possibly accept 
 for the slaves the white captain still had room 
 for on board. 
 
 Ledoux stared at him in amazement and in- 
 dignation when he heard Tamango's proposal 
 interpreted. The captain got up, swearing like 
 a trooper, apparently with the intention of put- 
 ting an end there and then to all bargaining with 
 a man so unreasonable. But Tamango, after 
 some difficulty, persuaded him to sit down. An- 
 other bottle was opened and the discussion 
 renewed. Now it was the black man's turn to 
 call the white captain's views outrageous and 
 extravagant. They talked and haggled as bot- 
 tle after bottle was emptied; but the liquor was 
 having quite a different effect on the two con- 
 tracting parties. The more the Frenchman 
 drank the less became his offers, and the more 
 the nigger drank the less he insisted on his de- 
 mands. So, when the case of brandy was 
 finished, it was found that they had come to 
 terms. In exchange for the hundred and sixty 
 slaves, Tamango accepted a quantity of worth- 
 less cotton, powder, gun-flints, three casks of 
 
TAMANGO 61 
 
 brandy, and fifty rusty rifles. The captain, to 
 ratify the compact, shook the half -tipsy nigger 
 by the hand, and immediately the slaves were 
 handed over to the French sailors, who lost no 
 time in putting on iron chains and handcufi's in 
 place of the wooden yokes — a striking demon- 
 stration of the superiority of European civilisa- 
 tion. 
 
 There were stiE about thirty slaves — children, 
 old men, or infirm women. But there was no 
 more room on board. Tamango, not knowing 
 what to do with this refuse, oifered to seU them 
 to the captain at the rate of a bottle of brandy 
 a head. The offer was a tempting one. Le- 
 doux remembered a performance of the Sicilian 
 Vespers, at Nantes, at which he had noticed that 
 a considerable number of sturdy and well-fur- 
 nished people had managed to push their way 
 into the pit which was already fuU, and ulti- 
 mately find seats, thanks to the compressibihty 
 of human bodies. He agreed to take the twenty 
 slimmest of the thirty slaves. Tamango then 
 offered to dispose of the ten remaining for a 
 glass of brandy a head. The fact that children 
 go half-price and take up half -room in railway 
 carriages crossed the captain's mind. So he 
 accepted three children, but said he would not 
 take one more. Tamango, seeing himself left 
 
62 TAMANGO 
 
 still with seven slaves on his hands, seized his 
 rifle and took aim at the nearest woman. She 
 was the mother of the three children. 
 
 " Buy her," he said to the white man, " or 
 I'll fire. Half a glass of brandy, or she dies." 
 
 " But what the deuce am I to do with her? " 
 asked Ledoux. 
 
 Tamango fired, and the slave fell down dead. 
 
 " Now for another! " cried Tamango, tak- 
 ing aim at a decrepit old man. " A glass of 
 brandy, or " 
 
 The bullet went off at random, for one of his 
 wives had suddenly seized his arm. She had 
 happened to recognise in the old man whom 
 her husband was about to kill a guiriot, or 
 magician, who had prophesied that she would 
 be queen. 
 
 Tamango, excited by all the brandy he had 
 consumed, lost control of himself when he 
 found himself thus thwarted. He struck his wife 
 roughly with the butt end of his gun, and turned 
 toward the captain. 
 
 " Take her," he said; " I'll make you a pres- 
 ent of this woman." 
 
 " I shall be able to find room for you," said 
 Ledoux, as he took her by the hand, and he 
 smiled when he saw how beautiful she was. 
 
 The interpreter — •& charitable man — asked 
 
TAMANGO 63 
 
 Tamango for the remaining six slaves in ex- 
 change for a cardboard snuff-box. He took off 
 their yokes and told them to go whither they 
 would. They hurried away in different direc- 
 tions, at a loss to know how to reach their homes, 
 two hundred leagues from the coast. 
 
 In the meantime the captain had said good- 
 bye to Tamango and was hard at work getting 
 his cargo on board. He did not think it safe to 
 remain longer in the river, for fear of the 
 cruisers which might return at any moment. So 
 he made up his mind to set sail on the morrow. 
 Tamango could not do anything but lie down 
 on the grass in the shade, and sleep away the 
 effects of the brandy. 
 
 When he woke up the vessel was already 
 under sail, and moving down the river. Taman- 
 go, still very dizzy from the effects of his recent 
 debauch, called for his wife Ayche. He was re- 
 minded that she had been unfortunate enough 
 to displease him, and that he had made a pres- 
 ent of her to the white captain who had taken 
 her away on board with him. Half stupefied 
 at this news, Tamango clasped his head in his 
 hands ; then, seizing his gun, he rushed away by 
 the most direct route toward a little creek about 
 half a mile from the sea. He knew the river 
 made several detours before it reached the sea. 
 
64 TAMANGO 
 
 and, by means of a small boat which ought to 
 be there, he hoped to overtake the brig, delayed 
 in her voyage, as she would be, by the winding 
 river. He was not deceived; he leaped into the 
 boat and just managed to reach the slave ship 
 in time. 
 
 Ledoux was surprised to see him; still more 
 so to learn that he wanted his wife back. 
 
 " You gave her to me," he said, " and I have 
 no intention of giving you back your present," 
 and he turned and left him. 
 
 But the black insisted, said he would give 
 back some of the goods he had received in ex- 
 change for the slaves. The captain laughed, and 
 told him that Ayche was a fine woman and that 
 he intended to keep her. Poor Tamango burst 
 into a torrent of tears, and groaned and cried like 
 a man being tortured by a surgeon. He flung 
 himself about the deck calling for his darling 
 Ayche, and dashed his head against the planks 
 as though he were trying to commit suicide. The 
 captain, quite unmoved, pointed to the shore, 
 and suggested that it was time for him to go. 
 But Tamango held to his point. He went to 
 the length of offering his golden epaulettes, his 
 sword, his rifle. All in vain. 
 
 Meantime the lieutenant of the Hope sug- 
 gested to the captain, " Why not take this 
 
TAMANGO 65 
 
 lusty brute in place of the three slaves who 
 died during the night; he is worth more than 
 they." 
 
 Ledoux looked at him. Yes. He was worth 
 at least a thousand crowns. Besides, this jour- 
 ney, which promised to be exceptionally re- 
 munerative, would probably be his last; his 
 fortune would be made, and he would give up 
 the slave trade. If so, what did it matter what 
 sort of a reputation he left behind on the coast 
 of Guinea? There was not a soul in sight on 
 the shore, and the black chieftain was entirely 
 at his mercy. It would only be a matter of dis- 
 arming him, for it would hardly be safe to lay 
 hands on him while he still had arms in his pos- 
 session. So Ledoux asked him for his gun, as 
 if he wished to examine it to see whether it was 
 really worth exchanging for the beautiful ne- 
 gress. Whilst he was scrutinising it, he took 
 care to jerk the charge out. The lieutenant suc- 
 ceeded in obtaining his sword, and Tamango 
 stood disarmed. Two sturdy sailors sprang on 
 him, brought him to the ground, and tried to 
 bind him. But the black man struggled heroic- 
 ally as soon as he recovered from the surprise, 
 and he fought for long with the two sailors in 
 spite of the disadvantage at which they had him. 
 By sheer strength he sprang to his feet, and 
 
66 TAMANGO 
 
 with one blow he felled the man who held him 
 by the neck. Leaving half his coat in the hands 
 of the other sailor, he dashed furiously toward 
 the Heutenant to regain his sword, and received 
 a cut on the head which, without going deep, 
 made a large wound. He fell a second time, 
 and the sailors soon bound him hand and foot. 
 He yelled with rage and struggled and writhed 
 like a wild boar caught in a net; after a while, 
 seeing that all resistance was useless, he shut his 
 eyes and remained absolutely motionless. Had it 
 not been for his heavy and hurried breathing, 
 one might have thought him dead. 
 
 " Bless my soul! " exclaimed the captain, 
 " won't these slaves he sold to us chuckle heartily 
 when they see him a slave like them! They wiU 
 begin to think there must be such a thing as 
 Providence." 
 
 Meanwhile poor Tamango was bleeding fast. 
 The charitable interpreter, who, the day before, 
 had saved the lives of the six slaves, came to 
 bind up his wound and speak a few words of 
 sympathy with him. No record exists of what 
 he said, and Tamango remained as motionless 
 as a corpse. Two sailors carried him like a pack- 
 age down to his allotted place in the 'tween 
 decks. For two days he refused to touch any- 
 thing to eat or drink, and he scarcely opened his 
 
TAMANGO 67 
 
 eyes. His companions in captivity, once his 
 prisoners, had watched him brought into their 
 midst with terror-stricken amazement. So great 
 was the awe with which his mere presence still 
 inspired them that not one of them durst jeer 
 at the misery of the man who was the cause of 
 all their suffering. 
 
 Sailing rapidly on the wings of a strong land 
 breeze, the vessel was soon out of sight of the 
 coast of Africa. The captain's mind, no longer 
 haunted with visions of English cruisers, began 
 to dwell on the prospective fortune he hoped to 
 reap in the colonies toward which he was sailing. 
 His cargo of " ebony " was in good health. 
 There were no contagious diseases. Only twelve 
 negroes had died of suffocation, and they were 
 the weakest — a mere trifle. But in order to pre- 
 serve his human cargo as much as possible from 
 the effects of the passage he had them brought 
 up on deck once a day. Three successive batches 
 of these unhappy slaves came up to inhale, for 
 one hour each batch, the stock of fresh air 
 which was to last through the twenty- four hours. 
 A portion of the crew mounted guard, armed to 
 the teeth for fear of insurrection; but they took 
 care that the slaves were never entirely freed 
 from their shackles. Sometimes a sailor who 
 could play the viohn would treat them to some 
 
68 TAMANGO 
 
 music, and it was curious to watch all those 
 black faces gazing up at the fiddler, graduaUy 
 losing their look of abject despair, and then 
 breaking forth into loud laughter — clapping 
 their hands too, as much as their chains would 
 aUow them. Exercise being essential to health, 
 one of Captain Ledoux's salutary regulations 
 was that all the slaves should be made to dance, 
 just as horses are made to prance when embarked 
 on a long journey. 
 
 " Come along, my boys, dance and amuse 
 yourselves ! " the captain would shout in a voice 
 of thunder, cracking his heavy slave-whip. In 
 less than no time the poor blacks were leaping 
 and dancing. 
 
 For some time Tamango's wound kept him 
 below the hatches. But at length he appeared 
 on deck; at first he stood in the midst of the 
 crowd of cringing slaves, holding his proud head 
 very high, and his sad but untroubled eyes gazed 
 over the wide expanse of ocean which surrounded 
 the ship; then he lay down, or rather threw 
 himself down on deck, without even troubling 
 to shift his chains into a less awkward position. 
 Ledoux was sitting behind him on the quarter- 
 deck, smoking his pipe at ease. Near him stood 
 Ayche, holding in her hand a tray of liquors 
 which she was ready to pour out for him. In- 
 
TAMANGO 69 
 
 stead of shackles she wore a pretty blue cotton 
 dress and dainty morocco shoes, which clearly 
 showed that she occupied a position of honour 
 in the captain's domestic circle. One of the 
 black men who loathed Tamango pointed her out 
 to him. As soon as he caught sight of her he 
 cried out, and, springing up impetuously, 
 reached the quarter-deck before the sailors on 
 guard could prevent such a flagrant breach of 
 naval disciphne. 
 
 " Ayche! " he shouted at the top of his voice 
 — and Ayche shrieked as he added, " do you 
 imagine that there is no Mama Jumbo in the 
 land of the white man? " 
 
 The sailors rushed to his side with uplifted 
 clubs, but he calmly folded his arms and walked 
 slowly back to his place, whilst Ayche burst into 
 a flood of tears, and seemed appalled at his mys- 
 terious question. 
 
 The interpreter explained what the awful 
 Mama Jumbo was, the very mention of which 
 had roused such terror. 
 
 " It is the bogey of the black men," he said. 
 " When a husband is afraid his wife is going to 
 behave as some wives do, as well in France as 
 Africa, he threatens her with Mama Jumbo. I 
 have seen Mama Jumbo with my own eyes, and 
 I understand the trick; but the poor blacks 
 
70 TAMANGO 
 
 1. . . they are so unsophisticated they do not 
 understand anything. Picture to yourself a 
 group of women dancing in an evening — having 
 a folgaVj as they call it in their dialect — near a 
 thick and sombre grove. Suddenly weird music 
 is heard. Not a soul is to be seen, for all the 
 musicians are hidden amongst the trees. The 
 sounds of the reed flutes, wooden drums, halafos, 
 and guitars made of the half of a gourd make a 
 melody calculated to produce the devil himself. 
 No sooner do the women hear the music than 
 they begin to tremble and would run away if 
 their husbands would let them; they know too 
 well what is going to happen. Suddenly a huge 
 white figure as tall as our top-gallant-mast 
 comes stalking out of the wood, with a head as 
 big as a pumpkin, eyes like hawse-holes, and a 
 mouth like the devil's, full of fire. It moves 
 slowly, very slowly, and does not come more 
 than half a cable's length away from the grove. 
 The women shriek and yell like costermong- 
 ers. It is ' Mama Jumbo.' And then their 
 husbands tell them to confess their sins, for if 
 they do not speak the Mama Jumbo is there 
 to gobble them up alive. Some of the women 
 are foolish enough to acknowledge everything, 
 and their husbands proceed to give them a sound 
 thrashing." 
 
TAMANGO 71 
 
 " But what is the white figure, this Mama 
 Jumbo? " asked the captain. 
 
 " Why, it's only some Merry Andrew, muf- 
 fled up in a white sheet, holding up on the end 
 of a stick a hollow gourd, with a lighted candle 
 inside, that serves as a head. It is nothing worse 
 than that, for it does not require much ingenuity 
 to deceive these poor blacks. But, when all's 
 said and done, it's not such a bad invention, this 
 Mama Jimibo of theirs ; I wish my wife believed 
 in it." 
 
 " If my wife knows nothing of Mistress 
 Jumbo," said Ledoux, " she has met with Master 
 Stick, and she knows well enough what the re- 
 sult would be if she played any pranks with me. 
 We are not a long-suffering family, we Ledoux, 
 and though I have only one fist left it can still 
 use a rope's-end to some purpose. As to that 
 joker who started the subject of Mama Jumbo, 
 tell him to keep still, and that if he frightens this 
 little woman again I'll have him flogged tiU his 
 skin changes from black to the colour of an 
 underdone beefsteak. 
 
 The captain led Ayche down to his room and 
 tried to comfort her, but neither his caresses nor 
 his blows (there was a hmit even to the captain's 
 patience) succeeded in pacifying the beautiful 
 negress; her tears flowed in torrents. Ledoux 
 
72 TAMANGO 
 
 went up on deck in a bad humour and vented 
 his feehngs on the officer on duty concerning 
 the first thing that came uppermost. 
 
 During the night, when nearly everyone on 
 board was sound asleep and the men on watch 
 were listening to a low, sad, monotonous chant, 
 which seemed to come from the 'tween decks, 
 they heard the shrill, piercing shriek of a woman. 
 Then they heard Ledoux's fierce voice swearing 
 and threatening, and the sound of his heavy whip 
 echoed through the whole vessel. Then the noise 
 ceased, and all was silent. On the morrow Ta- 
 mango came on deck, his face disfigured, but 
 still as proud and undaunted as ever. 
 
 As soon as Ayche caught sight of him she 
 rushed from the quarter-deck, where she had 
 been sitting by the side of the captain, and fell 
 on her knees before Tamango, exclaiming in a 
 frenzy of despair — 
 
 " Forgive me, Tamango, forgive me! " 
 
 Tamango looked steadily into her eyes for 
 a minute, and then, seeing that the interpreter 
 was not within earshot, he ejaculated " A file! " 
 and, turning his back upon her, lay down on 
 the deck. The captain chid her savagely, even 
 struck her once or twice, and enjoined her never 
 again to speak to her ex -husband. But he had 
 not the least inkhng of the meaning of the few 
 
TAMANGO 73 
 
 words they had exchanged, and he did not ask 
 any questions about them. 
 
 Tamango meanwhile, locked up with the 
 other slaves, continually exhorted them to make 
 one great effort to regain their liberty. He 
 spoke to them of the small number of the white 
 men, and called their attention to the increas- 
 ing carelessness of their guards; and, without 
 going into details, he promised them that he 
 would find some way of leading them back to 
 their country. He boasted of his knowledge of 
 the occult sciences, for which the black races have 
 great veneration, and declared that any who re- 
 fused to assist in the attempt would incur the 
 wrath of the devil. All these harangues were 
 delivered in the dialect of the Peules, which was 
 known to most of the slaves, but which the in- 
 terpreter did not understand. Such was the 
 credit of the dreaded orator, and so inveterate 
 was their habit of obeying him, that his eloquence 
 worked wonders, and he was begged to fix a 
 day for their emancipation long before he had 
 even had time to work out all his plans. So he 
 told the conspirators vaguely that the time was 
 not yet come, and that the devil, who appeared 
 to him at night, had not yet given the word ; but 
 he bade them hold themselves in readiness for 
 the first signal. In the meantime he did not lose 
 
74 TAMANGO 
 
 any opportunity of testing the vigilance of the 
 crew. One day he saw a sailor leaning over the 
 side of the vessel watching a shoal of flying-fish 
 which were following the ship. Tamango took 
 the rifle which had been left standing against the 
 gunwale, and began to handle it, mimicking 
 grotesquely the exercises he had seen the sailors 
 do. The rifle was immediately taken from him, 
 but he had learnt that it was possible to touch 
 a weapon without at once arousing suspicion. 
 When the time came for him to use one in 
 earnest, woe betide the man who tried then to 
 wrest it from him! 
 
 One morning Ayche threw him a biscuit, 
 making at the same time a sign which he alone 
 understood. The biscuit contained a small file, 
 and on that tool hung the success of the plot. 
 Tamango took good care not to let his com- 
 panions see the file; but, when night had fallen, 
 he began to utter unintelligible sounds, accom- 
 panied by weird gestures. Gradually he became 
 more and more excited, and the mutterings in- 
 creased to loud groans. As they Mstened to the 
 varied intonations of his voice, the slaves felt 
 convinced that he was engaged in an animated 
 conversation with an unseen person. They were 
 all terrified, not doubting that the devil was at 
 that moment in their midst. Tamango put the 
 
TAMANGO 75 
 
 finishing touch to the scene by exclaiming joy- 
 fuUy— 
 
 " Comrades! the spirit which I have conjured 
 has at length fulfilled his promises, and I hold 
 in my hand the talisman which is to save us. Now 
 you only need to summon up a little courage, 
 and you are free men." 
 
 Those near him were allowed to feel the file, 
 and not one of them was sharp enough to suspect 
 that the whole thing was a gross imposture. 
 
 At length, after many days of expectation, 
 the great day of liberty and vengeance dawned. 
 The conspirators had been sworn to secrecy by 
 a solemn oath, and the arrangements had been 
 settled after much deliberation. The strongest 
 amongst those who happened to go on deck at 
 the same time as Tamango were to seize the arms 
 of their guards, some of the others were to go 
 to the captain's room to fetch the arms which 
 were kept there. Those who had succeeded in 
 filing through their handcuff's were to lead the 
 way; but in spite of several nights' persistent 
 toil, the majority of the slaves were still unable 
 to take any active part in the attack. So three 
 lusty negroes were singled out to slay the man 
 who kept in his pocket the keys of the manacles, 
 and to return at once and unfetter their com- 
 panions. 
 
76 TAMANGO 
 
 That day Captain Ledoux seemed in the best 
 of tempers. Contrary to his usual habits, he 
 pardoned a cabin boy who had incurred a flog- 
 ging. He congratulated the officer of the watch 
 on his seamanship, told the crew he was pleased 
 with their work and promised to give them all 
 a gratuity at Martinique, which they would reach 
 very soon. All the sailors at once began to 
 amuse themselves by making plans as to how 
 they would use the gratuity. Their thoughts 
 were of brandy and of the swart women of Mar- 
 tinique, when Tamango and his fellow-conspir- 
 ators were brought up on deck. 
 
 They had been careful to file their handcuffs 
 in such a way that nothing was noticeable, but 
 at the same time so that they could break them 
 open easily. Furthermore, they rattled their 
 chains so much that morning, that they seemed 
 to be twice as heavily laden as usual. When 
 they had had time to drink in the air, they all 
 joined hands and began to dance, whilst Ta- 
 mango intoned his tribal war song * which he al- 
 ways used before going to battle. After they 
 had danced for some time, Tamango, as if tired 
 out, stretched himself at full length near a 
 sailor who was leaning back at his ease against 
 the ship's bulwarks; all the others followed his 
 
 * Each negro chief has his own. 
 
TAMANGO 77 
 
 example, so that every one of the guards was 
 singled out by the several negroes. 
 
 As soon as he had managed to remove his 
 handcuiFs quietly, Tamango gave a tremendous 
 shout, which was the signal, seized the sailor near 
 him violently by the legs, threw him head over 
 heels, and, planting his foot on his stomach, 
 wrenched the gun away from him and shot the 
 officer of the watch. Simultaneously every other 
 sailor on deck was seized, disarmed, and forth- 
 with strangled. From all sides came sounds of 
 the struggle. The boatswain's mate, who had 
 the keys of the handcuffs, was one of the first 
 victims. In a moment the deck was swarming 
 with a crowd of niggers. Those who could not 
 find arms seized the bars of the capstan or the 
 oars of the gig. The fate of the white men 
 was already sealed; a few sailors made a show 
 of resistance on the quarter-deck, but they 
 lacked weapons and resolution. Ledoux, how- 
 ever, was still ahve, and had not lost any of his 
 courage. 
 
 Seeing that Tamango was the soul of the 
 revolt, he hoped that if he could kiU him short 
 work might be made of his accomplices. So he 
 sprang forward, sword in hand, calling to him 
 at the top of his voice. Tamango lost no time 
 in rushing to the encounter. The two com- 
 
78 TAMANGO 
 
 manders met in one of the gangways — one of 
 those narrow passages leading aft from the 
 quarter-deck. Tamango, holding his gun by the 
 barrel, and using it as a club, was the first to 
 strike. The white man dexterously avoided the 
 blow: the butt end of the musket, falling vio- 
 lently on the planks, was smashed, and the 
 weapon was dashed out of Tamango's hand. He 
 stood defenceless, and Ledoux advanced with a 
 diabolical grin. But before he had time to make 
 use of his sword, Tamango, as agile as the pan- 
 thers of his native country, sprang into his 
 adversary's arms and seized the hand which held 
 the sword. The one strained to hold the sword, 
 the other to wrench it from him. During this 
 desperate struggle both stumbled, but the black 
 man fell undermost. Without a moment's hesi- 
 tation Tamango hugged his adversary with all 
 his strength, and bit his neck with such vehe- 
 mence that the blood spurted out as it does under 
 the teeth of a lion. The sword slipped from 
 the weakened hand of the captain. Tamango 
 seized it, sprang up, and, his mouth streaming 
 with blood, yelled his triumph as he stabbed his 
 dying enemy through and through. 
 
 The victory was complete. The few remain- 
 ing sailors entreated the negroes to have pity on 
 them, but all, even the interpreter who had never 
 
TAMANGO 79 
 
 done them any harm, were mercilessly massa- 
 cred. The lieutenant fell fighting heroically. 
 He had withdrawn aft, behind one of those 
 smaU cannons which turn on a pivot, and are 
 loaded with grape-shot. With his left hand he 
 worked the gun and with his right he used the 
 sword so dexterously that he attracted a crowd 
 of negroes round him. Then he fired the gun 
 into their midst and paved a way with dead and 
 dying. The next moment he was torn to pieces. 
 
 When the body of the last white man had 
 been hacked to pieces and thrown overboard the 
 negroes began to feel that their thirst for ven- 
 geance was satiated, and they gazed up at the 
 ship's sails which were swollen by the fresh 
 breeze, and seemed stiU to obey their oppressors 
 and to carry the conquerors in spite of their 
 triumph to the land of slavery. 
 
 " All our labour is lost! " they murmured in 
 their despair. " WiU the great fetish of the 
 white men lead us back to our homes now that 
 we have shed the blood of so many of his wor- 
 shippers? " 
 
 Someone suggested that Tamango might be 
 able to make the fetish obey. So they all began 
 to shout for Tamango. 
 
 He was in no hurry to hear them. They 
 found him standing in the fore cabin, one hand 
 
80 TAMANGO 
 
 resting on the captain's bloody sword, the other 
 stretched out to his wife Ayche, who was on 
 her knees kissing it. But the joy of victory 
 could not obliterate a strange look of anxiety 
 which was visible in every line of his face. Less 
 fatuous than the rest, he was better able to 
 understand the difficulties of the situation. 
 
 At last he came up on deck, affecting a se- 
 renity which he did not feel. Urged by a 
 hundred confused voices to change the course 
 of the vessel, he stalked slowly toward the hekn 
 as if to postpone for a while the moment which 
 would determine both for himself and for the 
 others the extent of his power. 
 
 Not even the dullest negro on board had 
 failed to notice the influence exercised on the 
 movements of the ship by a certain wheel and 
 the box fixed in front of it; but the whole 
 mechanism was a profound mystery to them. 
 Tamango examined the compass for some time, 
 moving his lips as if he were reading the char- 
 acters which were printed on it; then he put his 
 hand to his head and assumed the pensive look 
 of a man doing mental arithmetic. All the 
 negroes stood round him, their mouths wide open, 
 their eyes one stare, anxiously taking note of his 
 slightest movement. At length, with that mix- 
 ture of fear and confidence which ignorance 
 
TAMANGO 81 
 
 inspires, he gave the guiding wheel a tremendous 
 turn. 
 
 Like a noble steed which rears when some 
 imprudent rider drives in his spurs, the good 
 ship Hope plunged into the waves at this un- 
 wonted handling, as if she felt insulted and 
 wished to sink together with her stupid pilot. 
 The sails being now entirely at cross purposes 
 with the helm, the ship heeled over so suddenly 
 that it looked as if she were bound to founder. 
 Her long yards soused into the sea; many of 
 the niggers stumbled and some fell overboard. 
 However, the ship righted herself and stood 
 proudly against the swell, as if to make one last 
 effort to avoid destruction. But there came a 
 sudden gust of wind, and, with a deafening 
 crash, the two masts fell, snapped a few feet 
 above the deck, which was strewn with wreckage 
 and covered with a tangled network of ropes. 
 The terrified negroes fled below the hatchway 
 howling with fear, but as there was nothing 
 left to catch the breeze, the vessel remained 
 steady and merely rocked to and fro on the 
 billows. 
 
 Presently the more daring amongst them 
 came up again and began clearing away the 
 wreckage which encumbered the deck. Taman- 
 go remained motionless, leaning on the binnacle, 
 
82 TAMANGO 
 
 his face buried in his folded arms. Ayche, who 
 was beside him, did not dare to speak. One by 
 one the negroes approached him; they began to 
 murmur, and soon a torrent of insults and abuse 
 was let loose upon him. 
 
 "Traitor! impostor!" they cried, "you are 
 the cause of all our ills : you sold us to the white 
 men, you persuaded us to rebel, you boasted 
 your wisdom, you promised to take us back to 
 our homes. We trusted you, fools that we were ! 
 and now we have narrowly escaped destruction 
 because you have offended the white man's 
 fetish." 
 
 Tamango raised his head proudly, and the 
 negroes who stood round him slunk back. He 
 picked up two guns, beckoned to his wife to 
 follow him, and strode through the group of 
 men, who made way for him. He went to the 
 bow of the vessel, where he constructed a kind 
 of barricade of planks and barrels; behind this 
 intrenchment he fixed the two muskets in such 
 a way that the bayonets were menacingly prom- 
 inent. There he sat down and they left him 
 alone. 
 
 Some of the negroes were in tears; others 
 raised their hands to the sky, and called on their 
 own and the white man's fetishes; others knelt 
 down by the compass and wondered at its cease- 
 
TAMANGO 83 
 
 less movements, entreating it to take them to 
 their homes again; the remainder lay on the 
 deck in a state of abject despair. Amongst these 
 wretches were women and children shrieking 
 from sheer terror, and a score of wounded men 
 imploring the relief which no one dreamt of 
 bringing them. 
 
 All of a sudden a negro appeared on deck, 
 his face beaming with joy. He came to tell 
 them that he had discovered where the white men 
 stored their brandy; and his excitement and gen- 
 eral demeanour clearly showed that he had al- 
 ready helped himself to some. This piece of 
 news silenced for a while the cries of the 
 distracted slaves. They rushed down to the 
 steward's room and gorged the liquor. In about 
 an hour's time they were aU dancing and roaring 
 on deck, giving vent to the excesses of brutish 
 drunkenness. The noise of their singing and 
 dancing mingled with the groans and sobs of 
 the wounded. Night fell, and still the orgy 
 continued. 
 
 Next morning, when they woke, despair 
 again possessed them. During the night a great 
 number of the wounded had died. The vessel 
 was surrounded by floating corpses, and clouds 
 were lowering over the heavy sea. They held a 
 conference. Several experts in the art of magic. 
 
84 TAMANGO 
 
 who had not dared speak of their knowledge 
 before for fear of Tamango, now offered their 
 services, and several potent incantations were 
 tried. The failure of each attempt increased 
 their despondency till at length they appealed to 
 Tamango, who was still behind his barricade. 
 After all, he was the wisest of them, and he alone 
 could extricate them from the desperate condi- 
 tion into which he had brought them. An old 
 man approached him with overtures of peace, 
 and begged him to give them his advice. But 
 Tamango, as inexorable as Coriolanus, turned a 
 deaf ear to his entreaties. During the night, in 
 the midst of the tumult, he had fetched a supply 
 of biscuits and salt meat. To all appearance he 
 had no intention of leaving the sohtude of his 
 retreat. 
 
 There was still plenty of brandy left. That, 
 at all events, helped them to forget the sea, 
 slavery and the approach of death. They went 
 to sleep, and in their dreams saw Africa with its 
 forests of gum trees, its thatched huts, and its 
 baobabs, whose foliage shaded whole villages. 
 The orgy of the day before was renewed, and 
 continued for some time. They did nothing but 
 howl and weep and tear their hair, or drink and 
 sleep. Several died of drinking, others jumped 
 into the sea or stabbed themselves. 
 
TAMANGO 85 
 
 One morning Tamango left his fort and ad- 
 vanced to the stump of the mainmast. 
 
 " Slaves ! " he shouted, " the Spirit has ap- 
 peared to me in a dream and revealed to me the 
 means of helping you to return to your homes. 
 You deserve to be abandoned to your fates, but 
 I pity the women and children who are crying. 
 I pardon you. Listen! " 
 
 AU the negroes bowed their heads submissive- 
 ly, and gathered round him. 
 
 " Only the white men," continued Tamango, 
 " know the mystic formulas which guide these 
 massive wooden houses ; but we can steer without 
 difficulty those small boats, which are like our 
 own" (he pointed to the sloop and the other 
 ship's boats) . " Let us fill them with provisions, 
 set out in them, and row in the direction of the 
 wind. My Master and yours will make it blow 
 in the direction of our homes." 
 
 They took his word for it. No plan could 
 have been more reckless. Without any knowl- 
 edge of the compass, ignorant as to their where- 
 abouts, they could not do anything but row 
 at random. His belief was that by rowing 
 straight ahead they were certain to come, sooner 
 or later, to a land inhabited by black men; for 
 he had heard his mother say that white men lived 
 in their ships, and that black men possessed the 
 earth. 
 
86 TAMANGO 
 
 Soon afterward everything was ready to be 
 embarked, but only the sloop and one small boat 
 were found to be serviceable. It was impossible 
 to find room for the eighty negroes who were 
 stiU alive, so the sick and wounded had to be 
 abandoned. The majority of them begged to 
 be slain rather than be left. 
 
 After endless difficulties the two boats were 
 got under way, so heavily laden that they might 
 at any moment be swamped in such a choppy 
 sea. Tamango and Ayche were in the sloop, 
 which was soon left behind by the other boat — 
 a mere cock-boat, and far less overcharged. The 
 wailing of the poor wretches who had been left 
 behind on board the brig was still audible when 
 a big wave suddenly caught the sloop athwart 
 and swamped her. In less than a minute she had 
 disappeared. The smaller boat saw the catas- 
 trophe, and immediately the oars were plied with 
 redoubled energy, for fear of having to pick up 
 those who were shipwrecked. Nearly all who 
 were in the sloop were drowned. Only a dozen 
 or so managed to reach the vessel again ; amongst 
 whom were Tamango and Ayche. When the 
 sun set they could see the other boat far away 
 on the horizon; no one knows what became of it. 
 "^ Why should I weary the reader with a re- 
 volting description of the tortures of famine? 
 
TAMANGO 87 
 
 About a score of human beings, crowded to- 
 gether, now tossed about on a stormy sea, now 
 scorched by the fierce heat of the sun, fought 
 daily for what scanty remains of food there 
 were — every scrap of biscuit entaihng a fight. 
 The weaker died, not because the 
 stronger killed him, but because he chose to let 
 him expire. After a few days only two were 
 stUl alive on board the good brig Hope — ^Ayche 
 and Tamango. 
 
 One night the sea was rough, the wind blew 
 high, and the darkness was so intense that one 
 end of the ship could not be seen from the other. 
 Ayche lay on a mattress in the captain's room 
 and Tamango sat at her feet. They had not 
 spoken a word for many hours. 
 
 " Tamango," murmured Ayche at length, " it 
 is I who have brought all this suffering upon 
 
 you." 
 
 " I do not sufi'er," he answered quickly, and 
 threw the half -biscuit, which he still had left, on 
 the mattress beside her. 
 
 " Keep it yourself," she said gently, return- 
 ing the biscuit. " I am no longer hungry. Be- 
 sides, why eat? Is not mine hour come? " 
 
 Tamango got up without answering and 
 staggered to the deck, where he sat down against 
 the stump of the mast. His head lolled on his 
 
88 TAMANGO 
 
 breast, and he began to whistle his tribal war 
 song. Suddenly a loud cry reached his ear in 
 spite of the noise of the tempest; a light flashed; 
 other shouts followed, and a huge black ship 
 glided swiftly past the brig — so close that Ta- 
 mango could see her yards pass over his head. 
 He only saw two faces in the light of a lan- 
 tern which hung from a mast. They shouted 
 again; then their vessel, swept along by the 
 storm, disappeared into the darkness. Doubtless 
 the men on watch had caught sight of the dis- 
 abled hulk, but the violence of the tempest had 
 prevented their tacking. The next moment Ta- 
 mango saw the flash of a cannon and heard the 
 report; then another flash, but no report; then 
 he saw nothing more. On the morrow not a sail 
 was visible on the horizon. Tamango threw 
 himself down on his mattress and closed his eyes. 
 His wife Ayche had died that night. 
 
 I do not know how long it was before an 
 English frigate, the Bellona, sighted a dismasted 
 vessel, to all appearances abandoned by her 
 crew. They sent a sloop alongside and found 
 a negress dead and a negro by her side, so hag- , 
 gard and so thin that he looked like a skeleton. 
 He was unconscious, but there was still a breath 
 left in him. The doctor took charge of him and 
 did all he could for him, so that when they 
 
TAMANGO 89 
 
 reached Kingston, Tamango had regained his 
 health. He was asked to give an account of his 
 adventures, and he told them all he could remem- 
 ber. The Jamaica planters suggested that he 
 should be hung as a rebel, but the governor was 
 a kind-hearted man and took an interest in the 
 negro, whose crime was, after aU, justifiable, 
 since he had but acted in self-defence; and, be- 
 sides, the men he had murdered were only 
 Frenchmen. He was treated in the same way as 
 the slaves who are found on board a captured 
 slave trader. They set him at liberty — that is 
 to say they made him work for the Government. 
 And he earned threepence a day besides his 
 keep. One day the colonel of the 75th caught 
 sight of this splendid specimen of a man, and 
 made him a drummer in his regimental band. 
 Tamango learnt a little English, but hardly ever 
 spoke. To make up for that he was always 
 drinking rum or tafia. He died in the hospital 
 of congestion of the lungs. 
 
 1829. 
 
THE PEARL OF TOLEDO 
 
 La Perle de Tolede 
 
 In the Spanish Style 
 
THE PEARL OF TOLEDO 
 
 WHO can tell me when the sun is most 
 beautiful, at rising, or at setting? 
 Who can tell me whether of the Olive 
 or the Almond is the most beautiful of trees? 
 Who can teU me whether Andalusia or Valencia 
 sends forth the bravest knight? What man can 
 tell me who is the fairest of women? I will tell 
 you who is the fairest of women. She is Aurora 
 de Vargas, the Pearl of Toledo, 
 
 Swarthy Tuzani has called for his lance, he 
 has called for his buckler ; his lance he grasps in 
 his strong right hand; his buckler hangs from 
 his neck. He goes down to his stable, and con- 
 siders well his forty good steeds; in due order 
 he considers them all, and he says: 
 
 " Berja is the fleetest and trustiest of all. 
 On her strong back will I carry away the Pearl 
 of Toledo, as mine wiU I bear her away, or by 
 Allah, Cordova shall see me no more." 
 
 So he sets forth and he rides on his way, till 
 at length he reaches Toledo, and he meets an 
 old man hard by Zucatin. 
 
 " Old man, with the snoAvy beard, carry this 
 
 93 
 
94 THE PEARL OF TOLEDO 
 
 letter to Don Guttiera, to Don Guttiera de Sal- 
 dana. If he is a man he will come and meet me 
 in single combat, near to the fountain of Al- 
 mami. The Pearl of Toledo must belong to one 
 of us two." 
 
 The old man has taken the letter, he has 
 taken and carried it to the Count de Saldana, as 
 he sat playing chess with the Pearl of Toledo. 
 The Count has read the letter, he has read the 
 parchment, and with his closed fist does he smite 
 the table so mightily that all the chessmen have 
 fallen to the ground. Then he rises and calls 
 for his lance and his good steed, and all trem- 
 bling does the Pearl of Toledo arise, for she 
 has perceived and understood that he is going 
 forth to combat. 
 
 " My Lord Guttiera de Saldana, go not 
 hence I pray, go not hence, but play still this 
 game with me." 
 
 " No longer will I play at chess; I will play 
 at the game of lances by the fountain of Al- 
 mami." 
 
 And the tears of Aurora availed not to stay 
 him; for naught stays a knight who goes forth 
 to combat. Then the Pearl of Toledo took her 
 mantle, and mounting upon her mule she went 
 her way to the fountain of Almami. 
 
 All about the fountain is the grass crimson, 
 
THE PEARL OF TOLEDO 95 
 
 crimson too the waters of the fountain; but it 
 is not the blood of a Christian that stains the 
 green sward, that stains the waters of the foun- 
 tain. The swarthy Tuzani hes there with his 
 face to the sky. The lance of Don Guttiera is 
 splintered in his breast: all his life blood spends 
 itself drop by drop. His faithful steed, Berja, 
 looks down upon him weeping, for she can not 
 heal the wound of her master. 
 
 The Pearl of Toledo alights from her mule. 
 " Take heart, good sir, for you will live yet to 
 wed some fair Moorish maiden; my hand has- 
 cunning to heal the wound made by my knight." 
 
 " O Pearl so white, O Pearl so fair, draw 
 forth from my breast the splinter of lance which 
 rends it. The cold of the steel chills me and 
 freezes my heart." 
 
 In all confidence she approached him^ but he, 
 with a last eflFort, gathered together his f aiUng 
 strength, and with his sabre's sharp blade, gashed 
 the face so fair, so tender. 
 
THE GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 La Partie de Trictrac 
 
THE GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 THE sails hung motionless, clinging to 
 the masts; the sea was as smooth as 
 glass; the heat was stifling and the 
 cahn discouraging. 
 
 During a sea voyage the resources of amuse- 
 ment open to passengers on board ship are soon 
 exhausted. Anyone who has spent four months 
 together in a wooden house of one hundred and 
 twenty feet in length knows this fact, alas ! only 
 too well. When you see the first lieutenant com- 
 ing toward you you know that he will first begin 
 talking about Rio de Janeiro, from whence he 
 came ; then of the famous Essling Bridge, which 
 he saw made by the Marine Guards to which 
 he belonged. After the fifteenth day you know 
 exactly the expressions he is fond of, even the 
 punctuation of his sentences and the different 
 intonations of his voice. When did he ever miss 
 dwelling sadly on the word " emperor " when he 
 pronounced it for the first time in his recital? 
 . . . He invariably added, " If you had only 
 seen him then II!" (three exclamation marks to 
 denote his admiration). And the incident of 
 
100 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 the trumpeter's horse, and the ball that re- 
 bounded and carried away a cartridge-box which 
 contained seven thousand five hundred francs in 
 money and jewellery, etc., etc.! The second 
 lieutenant is a great poHtician; he makes critical 
 remarks every day on the last nimiber of the 
 Constitutionnel which he brought from Brest, 
 or, if he leaves the sublime heights of politics 
 to descend to literature, he sets you to rights on 
 the last vaudeville he saw played. Good Lord! 
 The Commissioner of the Navy has a very in- 
 teresting story to relate. How he enchanted us 
 the first time he told us his escape from the pon- 
 toon at Cadiz, but, by the twentieth repetition, 
 upon my word, it is barely endurable! . 
 
 And the ensigns and the midshipmen! 
 The recollection of their conversation 
 makes my hair stand on end. Generally speak- 
 ing, the captain is the least tedious person on 
 board. In his position of despotic commander 
 he is in a state of secret hostility against the 
 whole staif ; he annoys and oppresses at times, 
 but there is a certain amount of pleasure to be 
 gained by inveighing against him. If he is furi- 
 ously angry with some of his subordinates, his 
 superior tone is a pleasure to listen to, which is 
 some slight consolation. 
 
 On board the vessel on which I was sailing 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 101 
 
 the officers were the best fellows going, all good 
 company, liking each other as brothers, but bored 
 of each other all the same. The captain was the 
 gentlest of men, and, what is very rare, was 
 nothing of a busybody. He was always unwill- 
 ing to exercise his authoritative power. But, in 
 spite of all, the voyage seemed terribly long, 
 especially when the calm set in which overtook 
 us a few days only before we made land! . . . 
 One day, after dinner, which want of em- 
 ployment had made us spin out as long as it was 
 humanly possible, we were all assembled on the 
 bridge, watching the monotonous but ever ma- 
 jestic spectacle of a sunset over the sea. Some 
 were smoking, others were re-reading for the 
 twentieth time one of the thirty volumes which 
 comprised our wretched library; all were yawn- 
 ing till the tears ran down their cheeks. One 
 ensign, who was sitting by me, was amusing him- 
 self, with the gravity worthy of a serious occu- 
 pation, by letting the poniard, worn ordinarily 
 by naval officers in undress, fall, point down- 
 ward, on the planks of the deck. It was as 
 amusing as anything else on board, and required 
 skill to throw the point so that it should stick 
 in the wood quite perpendicularly. I wanted to 
 follow the ensign's example, and, not having a 
 poniard with me, I tried to borrow the captain's. 
 
102 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 but he refused it me. He was singularly at- 
 tached to that weapon, and it would have vexed 
 him to see it put to such a futile use. It had 
 formerly belonged to a brave officer who had 
 been mortally wounded in the last war. I 
 guessed a story would be forthcoming, nor was 
 I mistaken. The captain began before he was 
 asked for it, but the officers, who stood round 
 us, and who knew the misfortunes of Lieutenant 
 Roger by heart, soon beat a circumspect retreat. 
 Here is the captain's story almost in his own 
 words : 
 
 Roger was three years older than I when I 
 first knew him; he was a heutenant and I was 
 an ensign. He was quite one of the best officers 
 on our staff; he was, moreover, good-natm-ed, 
 talented, quick and well educated; in a word, 
 he was a fascinating young fellow. But vm- 
 fortunately he was rather proud and sensitive; 
 this arose, I think, from the fact of his being an 
 illegitimate child, and his fear that his birth 
 might make people look down upon him ; but, to 
 tell the truth, the greatest of all his faults was 
 a passionate and ever-present desire to take the 
 lead wherever he was. His father, whom he had 
 never seen, made him an allowance which would 
 have been more than enough for his needs, had 
 he not been the soul of generosity. All that he 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 103 
 
 had was at the service of his friends. When he 
 drew his quarter's pay, and met a friend with 
 a sad and anxious face, he would say — 
 
 " Why, mate, what's the matter? You look 
 as though you had difficulty in making your 
 pockets jingle when you slap them; come, here 
 is my purse, take what you want, and have din- 
 ner with me." 
 
 A very pretty young actress came to Brest 
 named GabrieUe, and she quickly made conquest 
 among the naval and army officers. She was not 
 a perfect beauty, but she had a good figure, fine 
 eyes, a small foot and a pleasant, saucy manner ; 
 these things are aU very dehghtful when one 
 is voyaging between the latitudes of twenty and 
 twenty-five years of age. She was, in addition, 
 the most capricious of her sex, and her style of 
 playing did not belie this reputation. Sometimes 
 she played enchantingly, and one would have 
 called her a comedienne of the highest order; on 
 the following day she would be cold and lifeless 
 in the very same piece : she would deliver her part 
 as a child recites its catechism. But more than 
 all else it was the story told of her which I am 
 about to relate that interested our young men. 
 It seems she had been kept in sumptuous style 
 by a Parisian senator, who, it was said, committed 
 all sorts of follies for her sake. One day this 
 
104 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 man put his hat on in her house; she begged him 
 to take it off, and even complained that he 
 showed a want of respect toward her. The sen- 
 ator burst out laughing, shrugged his shoulders 
 and said, as he elaborately settled himself in his 
 chair, " The least I can do is to make myself 
 at home in the house of a girl whom I keep." 
 Gabrielle's white hand smacked his face as 
 soundly as though she had a navvy's hand, and 
 she also paid him back for his words by throw- 
 ing his hat to the other end of the room. From 
 that moment there was a complete rupture be- 
 tween them. Bankers and generals made con- 
 siderable offers to the lady, but she refused them 
 all and became an actress, so that she could, as 
 she expressed it, live independently. 
 
 When Roger saw her and learnt her history, 
 he decided that she was — ^must be his, and with 
 the somewhat uncouth freedom with which we 
 sailors are credited, he took the following meth- 
 ods to show her how much he was affected by 
 her charms. He bought the rarest and lovehest 
 flowers to be found in Brest, had them made 
 into a bouquet which he tied with a beautiful rose- 
 coloured ribbon, and in the knot he carefully 
 placed a roll of twenty-five napoleons, all he pos- 
 sessed for the time being. I remember accom- 
 panying him behind the scenes during an interval 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 105 
 
 between the acts. He paid Gabrielle a brief 
 compliment upon the grace with which she wore 
 her costume, offered her the bouquet and asked 
 leave to call upon her. He managed to get 
 through all this in about three words. 
 
 Whilst Gabrielle only saw the flowers and 
 the handsome youth who offered them to her, 
 she smiled upon him, accompanying her smile 
 with a most gracious bow ; but when she held the 
 bouquet between her hands and felt the weight 
 of the gold, her face changed more rapidly than 
 the surface of the sea when roused by a tropical 
 hurricane; and certainly it could scarcely have 
 looked more evil, for she hurled the bouquet and 
 the napoleons with all her strength at my poor 
 friend's head, so that he carried the marks of it 
 on his face for more than a week after. The 
 manager's bell rang and Gabrielle went on and 
 played wildly. 
 
 Covered with confusion, Koger picked up his 
 bouquet and packet of gold, went to a cafe, 
 offered the bouquet (but not the money) to the 
 girl at the desk, and tried to forget his cruel 
 mistress in a glass of punch. But he did not 
 succeed, and, in spite of his vexation at not being 
 able to show himself without a black eye, he fell 
 madly in love with the enraged Gabrielle. He 
 wrote her twenty letters a day, and such letters ! 
 
106 GAJME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 — abject, tender, full of obsequious phrases that 
 might have been addressed to a princess. The 
 first were returned to him unopened, and the rest 
 received no answer. Roger, however, kept up 
 hope, until he discovered that the theatre orange- 
 seller wrapped up his oranges in Roger's love- 
 letters, which Gabrielle, with the very refinement 
 of mahciousness, had given him. This was a 
 terrible blow to our friend's pride; but his pas- 
 sion did not die out. He talked of asking the 
 actress to marry him, and threatened to blow his 
 brains out when we told him that the Minister 
 for Marine Aff'airs would never give his consent. 
 While all this was going on the ofiicers of a 
 regiment of the line in the garrison at Brest 
 wished to make Gabrielle repeat a vaudeville 
 couplet, and she refused the encore out of pure 
 caprice. The ofiicers and the actress both re- 
 mained so obstinate that it came to the former 
 hooting until the curtain had to be dropped and 
 the latter left the stage. You know what the 
 pit of a garrison town is like. The ofiicers 
 plotted together to hiss her without intermission 
 the next day and for a few days after, and 
 not allow her to play a single part unless she 
 made hvunble amends for her bad behaviour. 
 Roger had taken no part in these proceedings; 
 but he heard of the iscandal which put the whole 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 107 
 
 theatre in an uproar that very night, and also 
 the plans for revenge which were being hatched 
 for the morrow. He immediately made up his 
 mind what he would do. 
 
 When Gabrielle made her appearance the 
 next night an ear-splitting noise of hooting and 
 cat-calls rose from the officers' seats. Roger, who 
 had purposely placed himself near the roisterers, 
 got up and harangued the noisiest in such scath- 
 ing language that the whole of their fury was 
 soon turned on himself. He then drew his note- 
 book from his pocket, and, with the utmost sang- 
 froid, wrote down the names cried out to him 
 from all sides; he would have arranged to fight 
 with the whole regiment if a great many naval 
 officers had not come up, out of loyalty to their 
 order, and taken part against his adversaries. 
 The hubbub was something frightful. 
 
 The whole garrison was confined for several 
 days, but when we regained liberty, there was a 
 terrible score to settle. There were threescore 
 of us at the rendezvous. Roger, alone, fought 
 three officers in succession; he killed one, and 
 badly wounded the other two without receiving 
 a scratch. I, as luck would have it, came oif less 
 fortunately; a cursed lieutenant, who had been 
 a fencing master, gave me a neat thrust through 
 the chest which nearly finished me. The duel, 
 
108 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 or rather battle, was a fine sight, I can tell you. 
 The naval ofiicers had gained the victory, and 
 the regiment was obliged to leave Brest. 
 
 You may guess that our superior ofiicers did 
 not overlook the author of the quarrel. They 
 placed a guard outside his door for a fortnight. 
 
 When his term of arrest was over I came out 
 of hospital and went to see him. Judge my sur- 
 prise when I entered his room and found him 
 sitting at breakfast tete-a-tete with Gabrielle. 
 They seemed to have been on friendly terms for 
 some time, and already called each other thee and 
 thou, and drank out of the same glass. Roger 
 introduced me to his mistress as his dearest 
 friend, and told her I had been wounded in the 
 slight skirmish on her behalf. This charming 
 young girl then condescended to kiss me, for all 
 her sympathies were with fighters. 
 
 They spent three months together in perfect 
 happiness, and never left each other for a mo- 
 ment. Gabrielle seemed to love him to distrac- 
 tion, and Roger declared that he had never 
 known love before he met Gabrielle. 
 
 One day a Dutch frigate came into harbour. 
 The officers gave us a dinner, and we drank 
 deeply of all sorts of wines ; but when the cloth 
 was removed, we did not know what to do, for 
 these gentlemen spoke very bad French. We 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 109 
 
 began to play. The Dutchmen seemed to have 
 plenty of money; and their first lieutenant 
 especially oJffered to play such high stakes that 
 none of us cared to take a hand with him. But 
 Roger, who did not play as a rule, felt it incum- 
 bent upon him to uphold the honour of his coun- 
 try in the matter. So he played for the stakes 
 that the Dutch lieutenant fixed. At first he 
 gained, then he lost, and after several ups and 
 downs of gaining and losing they stopped with- 
 out anything having been done on either side. 
 We returned this dinner, and invited the Dutch 
 ofiicers. Again we played, and Roger and the 
 heutenant set to work afresh. In short, they 
 played for several days, meeting either in cafes 
 or on board ship ; they tried all kinds of games, 
 backgammon more than any, always increasing 
 their wagers until they came to the point of play- 
 ing for twenty-five napoleons each game. It was 
 an enormous sum for poverty-stricken ofiicers 
 like us — ^more than two months' pay! At the 
 week's end Roger had lost every penny he pos- 
 sessed, and more than three or four thousand 
 francs which he had borrowed on all sides. 
 
 You will gather that Roger and Gabrielle 
 had ended by sharing household and purse in 
 common, that is to say that Roger, who had just 
 received a large payment on account of his al- 
 
110 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 lowance, contributed ten or twenty times more 
 than the actress. He always considered that 
 this smn, large as was his share in it, belonged 
 chiefly to his mistress, and he had only kept back 
 for his own expenses about fifty napoleons. He 
 was, however, obliged to draw from this reserve 
 to go on playing, and GabrieUe did not make 
 the slightest objection. 
 
 The housekeeping money went the same 
 way as his pocket-money. Very soon Roger was 
 reduced to playing his last twenty-five napo- 
 leons. The game was long and hotly contested, 
 and it was horrible to see the intense efforts 
 Roger made to gain it. The moment came when 
 Roger, who held the dice-box, had only one more 
 chance left to win; I think he wanted to get six, 
 four. The night was far advanced, and an offi- 
 cer who had been looking at their play had fallen 
 asleep in an armchair. The Dutchman was tired 
 out and drowsy; moreover, he had drunk too 
 much punch. Roger alone was wide awake and 
 a prey to the depths of despair. He trembled 
 as he threw the dice. He threw them so roughly 
 upon the board that the shock knocked a candle 
 over on to the floor. The Dutchman turned his 
 head first toward the candle, which had covered 
 his new trousers with wax, then he looked at the 
 dice. They showed six and four. Roger, who 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 111 
 
 was as pale as death, received his twenty-five 
 napoleons, and they went on playing. Chance 
 again favoured my unlucky friend, who, how- 
 ever, made blunder upon blunder, and secured 
 points as though he wanted to lose. The Dutch 
 lieutenant lost his head, and doubled and quad- 
 rupled his stakes; he lost every time. I can see 
 him now — a tall, fair man of a phlegmatic na- 
 ture, whose face seemed made of wax. At last 
 he got up, after he lost forty thousand francs, 
 and paid it without his features betraying the 
 least trace of emotion. 
 
 " We will not take into account what we 
 have played for to-night," said Roger. " You 
 were more than half asleep. I do not want your 
 money." 
 
 " You are joking," replied the phlegmatic 
 Dutchman; "I played well, but the dice were 
 against me. I am quite capable of winning off 
 you always. Good evening! " 
 
 And he went out. 
 
 We learnt next day that, made desperate by 
 his losses, he had blown out his brains in his 
 room, after drinking a bowl of punch. 
 
 The forty thousand francs that Roger had 
 won from him were spread out on the table, and 
 Gabrielle gazed at them with a smile of satis- 
 faction. 
 
112 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 " See how rich we are! " she said. "What 
 shall we do with all this money? " 
 
 Roger did not answer her ; he seemed stunned 
 since the Dutchman's death. 
 
 " We can do a thousand delicious things," she 
 went on. " Money gained so easily ought to be 
 spent as lightly. Let us set up a carriage, and 
 snap our fingers at the Maritime Prefect and 
 his wife. I want some diamonds and some Cash- 
 mere shawls. Ask for a holiday, and let us go 
 to Paris; we could never spend so much money 
 here!" 
 
 She stopped to look at Roger, whose eyes 
 were fixed on the ceihng; his head was leant on 
 his hand, and he had not heard a word; he seemed 
 to be a prey to the most miserable thoughts. 
 
 " What on earth's wrong with you, Roger? " 
 she cried, leaning her hand on his shoulder. 
 " You will make me pull faces at you presently. 
 I can not get a word out of you." 
 
 " I am very unhappy," he said at length, 
 with a smothered sigh. 
 
 "Unhappy! Why, I do believe you regret 
 having pinked that big mynheer." 
 
 He raised his head and looked at her with 
 haggard eyes. 
 
 "What does it matter?" she went on. 
 " Why mind if he did take the thing tragically 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 113 
 
 and blew out his few brains? I don't pity losing 
 players; and his money is better in our hands 
 than in his. He would have wasted it in drink- 
 ing and smoking, whilst we wiE do a thousand 
 lovely things with it, each one nicer than the 
 last." 
 
 Roger walked about the room with his head 
 bent on his breast, his eyes half closed and filled 
 with tears. " You would have been sorry for him 
 if you had seen him." 
 
 " Don't you know," said Gabrielle to him, 
 " that people who do not know how romantically 
 sensitive you are might imagine you had been 
 cheating? " 
 
 " And if it were the truth? " he cried in hol- 
 low tones, stopping before her. 
 
 " Bah! " she answered, smiling; " you are not 
 clever enough to cheat at play." 
 
 "Yes, I cheated, Gabrielle; I cheated — 
 wretch that I am! " 
 
 She understood from his agitation of mind 
 that he spoke but too truly. She sat down on 
 a couch and remained speechless for some time. 
 
 " I would much rather you had killed ten 
 men than cheated at play," she said at length in 
 a very troubled voice. 
 
 There was a deathlike silence for half an 
 hour. They both sat on the same sofa, and never 
 
114 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 looked at each other once. Roger got up first 
 and wished her good night in a cahn voice. 
 
 " Good night," she replied in cold and hard 
 tones. 
 
 Roger has since told me that he would have 
 killed himself that very day if he had not heen 
 afraid that his comrades would have guessed the 
 reason for his suicide. He did not wish his mem- 
 ory to he disgraced. 
 
 Gabrielle was as gay as usual next day. She 
 seemed, already, to have forgotten the confi- 
 dences of the previous evening. But Roger 
 became gloomy, capricious and morose. He 
 avoided his friends, and scarcely left his rooms, 
 often passing a whole day without saying a word 
 to his mistress. I attributed his melancholy to 
 an honourable, but excessive sensitiveness, and 
 tried several times to console him; but he put me 
 at a distance by affecting a supreme indifference 
 toward his unhappy partner. One day he even 
 inveighed against the Dutch nation in violent 
 terms, and tried to make me believe that there 
 was not a single honourable man in Holland. 
 All the same, he tried secretly to find out the 
 Dutch lieutenant's relatives; but no one could 
 give him any information about them. 
 
 Six weeks after that unlucky game of back- 
 gammon Roger found a note in Gabrielle's 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 115 
 
 rooms, written by an admirer who thanked her 
 for the kind f eehng she had shown him. Gabri- 
 elle was the very personification of untidiness, 
 and the note in question had been left by her on 
 her mantelpiece. I do not know whether she was 
 unfaithful to Roger or not, but he believed her 
 to be so, and his anger was frightful. His love 
 and a remnant of pride were the only feehngs 
 which still attached him to hf e, and the strongest 
 of these sentiments was thus suddenly destroyed. 
 He overwhelmed the proud actress with insults; 
 and was so violent that I do not know how he 
 refrained from striking her. 
 
 " No doubt," he said to her, " this puppy gave 
 you lots of money. It is the only thing you love. 
 You would give yourself to the dirtiest of our 
 sailors if he had anything to pay you with." 
 
 " Why not? " retorted the actress icily. 
 " Yes, I would take payment from a sailor ; but 
 I should not have stolen it! " 
 
 Roger uttered a cry of rage. He tremblingly 
 drew his sword, and for one second looked at 
 Gabrielle with the eyes of a madman; then he 
 collected himself with a tremendous effort, threw 
 the weapon at her feet, and rushed from the room 
 to prevent himself yielding to the temptation 
 which beset him. 
 
 That same evening I passed his lodging at 
 
116 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 a late hour, and, seeing his light burning, I went 
 in to borrow a book. I found him busy, writing. 
 He did not disturb himself, and scarcely seemed 
 to notice my presence in his room. I sat down 
 by his desk and studied his features; they were 
 so much altered that anyone else but I would 
 hardly have recognised him. All at once I no- 
 ticed a letter already sealed on his desk, addressed 
 to myself. I immediately opened it. In it 
 Roger announced to me his intention to put an 
 end to himself, and gave me various instructions 
 to carry out. While I read this, he went on 
 writing the whole time without noticing me. He 
 was bidding farewell to Gabrielle. You can 
 judge of my astonishment, and of what I felt 
 bound to say to him. I was thunderstruck by 
 his decision. 
 
 " What! you want to kill yourself when you 
 are so happy? " 
 
 " My friend," he said, as he hid his letter, 
 "you know nothing about it; you do not know 
 me; I am a rascal; I am so guilty that a prosti- 
 tute has power to insult me; and I am so aware 
 of my baseness that I have no power to strike 
 her." 
 
 He then related the story of the game of 
 backgammon, and all that you already know. As 
 I listened I was as moved as he was. I did not 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 117 
 
 know what to say to him; with tears in my eyes 
 I pressed his hands, but I could not speak. Then 
 the idea came to me to try and show him that he 
 need not reproach himself with having intention- 
 ally caused the ruin of the Dutchman, and that, 
 after all, he had only made him lose, by his 
 . cheating . . . twenty-five napo- 
 leons. 
 
 " Then," he cried, with bitter irony, " I am 
 a petty thief and not a great one. I, who was 
 so ambitious, to be nothing but a scurvy little 
 scoundrel! " 
 
 He shrieked with laughter. 
 
 I burst into tears. 
 
 Suddenly the door opened and GabrieUe 
 rushed into his arms. 
 
 " Forgive me! " she cried, strangling him al- 
 most in her passion; "forgive me! I know it 
 now; I love only you; and I love you better now 
 than if you had not done what you blame your- 
 self for. If you like, I will steal; I have stolen 
 before now. . . . Yes, I have stolen; I took 
 a gold watch. . . . What worse could one 
 do?" 
 
 Roger shook his head incredulously, but his 
 face seemed to brighten. 
 
 " No, my poor child," he said, gently repuls- 
 ing her. " I must kill myself; there is no other 
 
118 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 course for me. I suffer so greatly that I can 
 not bear my grief." 
 
 " Very well, then, if you intend to die, Roger, 
 I shall die with you. What is Ufe to me without 
 you? I have plenty of courage; I have fired 
 pistols ; I shall kill myself like anyone else. Be- 
 sides, I have played at tragedy and am used to 
 it." At first there were tears in her eyes, but 
 this last idea amused her, and even Roger could 
 not help smiling with her. " You are laugh- 
 ing, my soldier-boy," she cried, clapping her 
 hands and hugging him; "you will not kill 
 yourself." 
 
 All the time she embraced him she was first 
 crying, then laughing, then swearing hke a sail- 
 or ; for she was not, like many women, afraid of 
 a coarse word. 
 
 In the meantime I possessed myself of 
 Roger's pistols and poniard; then I turned to 
 him and said — 
 
 " My dear Roger, you have a mistress and 
 a friend who love you. Believe me, there can 
 still be happiness for you in this life." I em- 
 braced him and went out, leaving him alone with 
 Gabrielle. 
 
 I do not believe we should have succeeded in 
 doing more than delaying his fatal design if he 
 had not received an order from the Admiralty 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 119 
 
 to set out as first lieutenant on board a frigate 
 bound for a cruise in the Indian seas — if it could 
 first cross the lines of the English fleet, which 
 blockaded the port. It was a dangerous venture. 
 I put it to him that it would be much better to 
 die nobly by an English bullet than to put an 
 inglorious end to his life himself, without render- 
 ing any service to his country. So he promised 
 to live. He distributed half the forty thousand 
 francs to maimed sailors or the widows and 
 orphans of seamen; the rest he gave to Gabrielle, 
 who at first vowed to him only to use the money 
 for charitable purposes. She fully meant to keep 
 her word, poor girl! but enthusiasm with her was 
 short-lived. I have heard since that she gave 
 some thousands of francs to the poor, but she 
 spent the remainder on finery. 
 
 Roger and I boarded the fine frigate JLa 
 Galatee; our men were brave, experienced, and 
 well-driUed, but our commander was an idiot, 
 who thought himself a Jean Bart because he 
 could swear better than an army captain, be- 
 cause he murdered French, and because he had 
 never studied the theory of his profession, the 
 practice of which he understood only very indif- 
 ferently. However, fate favoured us at the 
 outset. We got well out of the roadstead — 
 thanks to a gust of wind which compelled the 
 
120 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 blockading fleet to give us a wide berth — and 
 we began our cruise by burning an English 
 sloop and an East Indiaman off the coast of 
 Portugal. 
 
 We were slowly sailing toward the Indian 
 seas, hampered by contrary winds and our cap- 
 tain's bad handling of the ship, whose stupidity 
 increased the danger of our cruise. Sometimes 
 we were chased by superior forces, sometimes 
 pursued by merchant vessels; we did not pass a 
 single day without some fresh adventure. But 
 neither the risky life he led nor the labours caused 
 him by the irksome ship-duties devolving upon 
 him could distract Roger from the sad thoughts 
 which unceasingly haunted him. He who was 
 once considered the most brilliant and active offi- 
 cer in our port now found it almost a burden to 
 fulfil simply his duty. As soon as he was off 
 duty he would shut himself in his cabin without 
 either books or papers, and the unhappy man 
 passed whole hours lying in his cot, for he could 
 not sleep. 
 
 One day, noticing his depression, I ventured 
 to say to him — 
 
 " Good gracious, my boy, you grieve over 
 nothing ! Granted you filched twenty-five napo- 
 leons from a big Dutchman, you show as much 
 remorse as though you had taken more than a 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 121 
 
 million. Now, tell me, when you loved the wife 
 of the Prefect of . . . did you mind at aE? 
 Nevertheless, she was worth more than twenty- 
 five napoleons." 
 
 He turned over on his mattress without a 
 word. 
 
 " After all," I continued, " your crime, since 
 you persist in calling it so, had an honourable 
 motive and arose from a lofty mind." 
 
 He turned his head and looked at me furi- 
 ously. 
 
 " Yes, for if you had lost what would have 
 become of Gabrielle? She — poor girl! — would 
 have sold her last garment for you. . . .If 
 you had lost she would have been reduced to 
 misery. ... It was for her, out of love for 
 her, you cheated. There are people who die for 
 love . . . will kill themselves for it. . . . 
 You, my dear Roger, did more. For a man of 
 our order it takes more courage to . . . 
 steal, to put it baldly, than to commit suicide." 
 
 ("Now, perhaps," the captain interrupted 
 his story to say, " I appear ridiculous to you. I 
 assure you that my friendship for Roger en- 
 dowed me with a timely eloquence that I am not 
 equal to nowadays; and, devil take it, in saying 
 what I did I spoke in good earnest, and I be- 
 lieved all I said. Ah, I was young then! "); 
 
122 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 Roger did not make any answer for a long 
 time; then he held out his hand to me. 
 
 " My friend," he said, making a great effort 
 over himself, " you think too well of me. I am 
 a cowardly wretch. When I cheated the Dutch- 
 man my only thought was to win the twenty -five 
 napoleons, that was aU. I never thought of 
 Gabrielle, and that is why I despise myself. 
 . . . I, to hold my honour in less esteem than 
 twenty-five napoleons ! . . . What baseness ! 
 Yes, I could be happy if I could teU myself I 
 stole to keep Gabrielle from wretchedness. 
 . No! . . . no! I did not think of 
 her. ... I was not in love at that moment. 
 . I was a player. ... I was a 
 thief. ... I stole money to possess it my- 
 self, . . . and the deed has so degraded me, 
 and debased me, that I now have no more courage 
 left nor love. ... I can see it; I do not 
 think any longer of Gabrielle. ... I am 
 a broken-down man." 
 
 He was so wretched, that if he had asked me 
 to hand him his pistols to kill himself I beheve 
 I should have given them to him. 
 
 One Friday, that day of iU omen, we discov- 
 ered that a big Enghsh frigate, the Alcestis, was 
 chasing us. She carried fifty-eight guns, and we 
 but thirty-eight. We put on aU sail to escape 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 123 
 
 from her, but her pace was faster than ours, and 
 she gained on us every minute. It was very evi- 
 dent that before night we should be obhged to 
 engage in an unequal battle. Our captain called 
 Roger to his cabin, where they consulted to- 
 gether for more than a quarter of an hour. 
 Roger came up on the deck again, took me by 
 the arm, and drew me aside. 
 
 " In two hours' time," he said, " we shall be 
 engaged. That rash man who struts the quar- 
 ter-deck has lost his wits. He has two courses 
 to choose from: the first, and the most honour- 
 able, would be to let the enemy come up to us, 
 then to board the ship determinedly with a hun- 
 dred or so of our best men; the other course, 
 which is not bad, but rather cowardly, is to 
 lighten ourselves by throwing some of our guns 
 overboard. Then we could make for the near 
 coast of Africa, which we shall soon find to 
 larboard. The English captain would soon be 
 obliged to give up the chase, for fear of ground- 
 ing; but our . . . captain is neither coward 
 nor hero. He will let himself be destroyed by 
 gunshots a good distance oif, and after some 
 hours' fight he wiU honourably lower his flag. 
 So much the worse for you. The Portsmouth 
 pontoons will be your fate. I have no desire to 
 see them." 
 
124 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 " Possibly," I said, " our first shots will dam- 
 age the enemy suiHciently to compel her to 
 abandon the chase." 
 
 " Listen, I do not mean to be taken prisoner; 
 I shall kill myself. It is time I ended it all. If 
 by ill luck I am only wounded, give me your 
 word of honour that you will throw me over- 
 board. It is the proper death-bed for a good 
 sailor." 
 
 "What nonsense!" I exclaimed. "What a 
 charge to make me undertake! " 
 
 " You will be fulfilhng the duty of a true 
 friend. You know I shall have to die. I have 
 only consented not to take my own life in the 
 hope of being killed; you must remember that. 
 Come, promise me this; if you refuse, I shall 
 go and ask this service from the boatswain's 
 mate, who will not refuse me." 
 
 After reflecting for some time, I said to 
 him — 
 
 " I give you my word to do what you wish, 
 provided that you are mortally wounded, with 
 no hope of recovery. In that case I consent to 
 spare you further suifering." 
 
 " I shall be mortally wounded or I shall be 
 killed outright." 
 
 He held out his hand to me, and I shook it 
 firmly. After that he was calmer, and even a 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 125 
 
 kind of martial cheerfulness shone in his face. 
 Toward three o'clock in the afternoon the en- 
 emy's guns began to play in our rigging. We 
 then clewed up some of our sails, crossed the 
 bows of the Alcestis, and started a rattling fire, 
 which the English returned vigorously. After 
 about an hour's fight our captain, who did noth- 
 ing methodically, wanted to try to board the 
 enemy; but we had already many dead and 
 wounded, and the remainder of our crew had 
 lost heart. Our rigging, besides, had suffered 
 severely, and our masts were badly damaged. 
 Just as we were taking in sail, to approach the 
 English vessel, our large mast, which had noth- 
 ing to stay it, fell with a horrible noise. The 
 Alcestis took advantage of the confusion into 
 which this accident threw us. She came broad- 
 side up to our stern and opened fire upon us 
 within half a pistol range of us ; she riddled shot 
 through our unfortunate frigate fore and aft, 
 and we were only in a position to point two 
 small guns at her. At that moment I was stand- 
 ing near Roger, who was busy trying to cut the 
 shrouds which stiU held the fallen mast. I felt 
 my arm pressed forcibly; I turned round and 
 saw him laid flat on the deck covered with blood. 
 He had received a charge of grape-shot in the 
 stomach. 
 
126 GAME OF BACKGAMMON 
 
 " What can we do, lieutenant? " cried the 
 captain, running up. 
 
 " Nail our flag to this piece of mast and sink 
 the ship." 
 
 The captain left him at that, for he did not 
 in the least rehsh the advice. 
 
 " Come," said Roger, " remember your 
 promise." 
 
 " It is nothing," I said; " you will get over 
 it." 
 
 "Throw me overboard I" he cried, and he 
 swore fearfully and seized me by my coat-tails; 
 " you see well enough that I can not recover. 
 Throw me into the sea; I do not want to see 
 our flag taken." 
 
 Two sailors came up to carry him below. 
 
 " To your guns, you knaves I " he cried 
 with all his strength: "use grape-shot, and 
 aim on the deck. And as for you, if you 
 fail to keep your word I will curse you and 
 think of you as the most cowardly and vile of 
 menl " 
 
 His wound was certainly mortal. I saw the 
 captain call a midshipman and give him the 
 order to lower the flag. 
 
 " Give me a shake of the hand," I said to 
 Roger. And at that moment our flag was 
 lowered. . . . 
 
GAME OF BACKGAMMON 127 
 
 " Captain, there is a whale to larboard! " in- 
 terrupted an ensign, running to us. 
 
 " A whale? " cried the captain joyfully and 
 leaving his story unfinished. " Quick! launch 
 the longboat and the yawl, too! All long- 
 boats into the water! Bring the harpoons and 
 ropes!" ,. . . 
 
 I never knew how poor Lieutenant Roger 
 died. 
 
 1830. 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 Le Vase Etrusque 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 AUGUSTE SAINT-CLAIR was not 
 at all a favourite in Society, the chief 
 reason being that he only cared to please 
 those who took his own fancy. He avoided the 
 former and sought after the latter. In other 
 respects he was absent-minded and indolent. 
 One evening, on coming out of the Italian 
 Opera, the Marquise A asked him his opin- 
 ion on the singing of MUe. Sontag. " Yes, 
 Madam," Saint-Clair replied, smiling pleasant- 
 ly, and thinking of something totally different. 
 This ridiculous reply could not be set down to 
 shyness, for he talked with great lords and noted 
 men and women and even with Society women 
 with as much ease as though he were their equal. 
 The Marquise put down Saint-Clair as a stupid, 
 impertinent boor. 
 
 One Monday he had an invitation to dine 
 
 with Madam B . She paid him a good deal 
 
 of attention, and on leaving her house, he re- 
 marked that he had never met a more agreeable 
 woman. Madam B spent a month collect- 
 
 131 
 
132 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 ing witticisms at other people's houses, which she 
 dispensed in one evening at her own. Saint- 
 Clair called upon her again on the Thursday of 
 the same week. This time he grew a little tired 
 of her. Another visit decided him never to enter 
 
 her salon again. Madam B gave out that 
 
 Saint-Clair was an ill-bred young man, and not 
 good form. 
 
 He was naturally tender-hearted and affec- 
 tionate, but at an age when lasting impressions 
 are taken too easily. His too demonstrative na- 
 ture had drawn upon him the sarcasm of his 
 comrades. He was proud and ambitious, and 
 stuck to his opinion like an obstinate child. 
 Henceforth he made a point of hiding any out- 
 ward sign of what might seem discreditable 
 weakness. He attained his end, but the victory 
 cost him dear. He learnt to hide his softer feel- 
 ings from others, but the repression only in- 
 creased their force a hundredfold. In Society 
 he bore the sorry reputation of being heartless 
 and indifferent; and, when alone, his restless 
 imagination conjured up hideous torments — all 
 the worse because unshared. 
 
 How difficult it is to find a friend! Difficvdt! 
 Is it possible to find two men anywhere who have 
 not a secret from each other? That Saint-Clair 
 had httle faith in friendship was easily seen. 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 133 
 
 With young Society people his manner was cold 
 and reserved. He asked no questions about their 
 secrets; and most of his actions and aU his 
 thoughts were mysteries to them. A Frenchman 
 loves to talk of himself; therefore Saint-Clair 
 was the unwilling recipient of many confidences. 
 His friends — that is to say, those whom he saw 
 about twice a week — complained of his indiffer- 
 ence to their confidences. They felt that indis- 
 cretion should be reciprocal; for, indeed, he who 
 confides his secret to us unasked generally takes 
 offence at not learning ours in return. 
 
 " He keeps his thoughts to himself," grum- 
 bled Alphonse de Themines one day. 
 
 " I could never place the least confidence in 
 that deuced Saint-Clair," added the smart 
 colonel. 
 
 " I think he is half a Jesuit," replied Jules 
 Lambert. " Someone swore to me that he had 
 met him twice coming out of St. Sulpice. No- 
 body knows what he thinks about. I must say 
 I never feel at ease with him." 
 
 They separated. Alphonse encountered 
 Saint-Clair in the Boulevard Italien. He was 
 walking with his eyes on the ground, not notic- 
 ing anyone. Alphonse stopped him, took his 
 arm, and, before they had reached the Rue de la 
 Paix, he had related to him the whole history 
 
134 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 of his love affairs with Madam , whose hus- 
 band was so jealous and so violent. 
 
 The same evening Jules Lambert lost his 
 money at cards. After that he thought he had 
 better go and dance. While dancing, he acci- 
 dentally knocked against a man, who had also 
 lost his money and was in a very bad temper. 
 Sharp words followed, and a challenge was 
 given and taken. Jules begged Saint-Clair to 
 act as his second, and, at the same time, bor- 
 rowed money from him, which he was never 
 likely to return. 
 
 After all, Saint-Clair was easy enough to 
 live with. He was no one's enemy but his own; 
 he was obliging, often genial, rarely tiresome; 
 he had travelled much and read much, but never 
 obtruded his knowledge or his experiences un- 
 asked. In personal appearance he was tall and 
 well made; he had a dignified and refined ex- 
 pression — almost always too grave, but his smUe 
 was pleasing and very attractive. 
 
 I am forgetting one important point. Saint- 
 Clair paid attention to all women, and sought 
 their society more than that of men. It was diffi- 
 cult to say whether he was in love; but if this 
 reserved being felt love, the beautiful Countess 
 Mathilde de Coursy was the woman of his 
 choice. She was a yoimg widow, at whose house 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 135 
 
 he was often seen. To prove their friendship 
 there was the evidence first of the ahnost exag- 
 gerated pohteness of Saint-Clair toward the 
 Countess, and vice versa; then his habit of never 
 pronouncing her name in pubhc, or if obliged to 
 speak of her, never with the sHghtest praise ; also, 
 before Saint-Clair was introduced to her, he had 
 been passionately fond of music, and the Coun- 
 tess equally so of painting. Since they had be- 
 come acquainted their tastes had changed. Last- 
 ly, when the Countess visited a health resort the 
 previous year, Saint-Clair followed her in less 
 than a week. 
 
 My duty as novelist obliges me to reveal that 
 early one morning in the month of July, a few 
 moments before sunrise, the garden gate of a 
 country house opened, and a man crept out with 
 the stealthiness of a burglar fearing discovery. 
 This country house belonged to Madam de 
 Coursy, and the man was Saint-Clair. A wom- 
 an muffled in a cape, came to the gate with him, 
 stood with her head out and watched him as long 
 as she could, until he was far along the path 
 which led by the park wall. Saint-Clair stopped, 
 looked round cautiously, and signed with his 
 hand for the woman to go in. The clearness of 
 
136 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 a summer dawn enabled him to distinguish her 
 pale face. She stood motionless where he had 
 left her. He went back to her, and took her ten- 
 derly in his arms. He meant to compel her to 
 go in; but he had still a hundred things to say 
 to her. Their conversation lasted ten minutes, 
 till at last they heard the voice of a peasant going 
 to his work in the fields. One more kiss passed 
 between them, the gate was shut, and Saint-Clair 
 with a bound reached the end of the footpath. 
 He followed a track evidently well known to 
 him, and ran along, striking the bushes with his 
 stick and almost jumping for joy. Sometimes 
 he stopped, or sauntered slowly, looking at the 
 sky, which was flushed in the east with purple. 
 In fact, anyone meeting him would have taken 
 him for an escaped lunatic. After half an hour's 
 walk he reached the door of a lonely httle house 
 which he had rented for the season. He let him- 
 self in with a key, and then, throwing himself 
 on the couch, he fell into a day-dream, with va- 
 cant eyes and a happy smile playing on his lips. 
 His mind was filled with bright reflections. 
 " How happy I am! " he kept repeating. " At 
 last I have met a heart that understands mine. 
 
 . Yes, I have found my ideal. . 
 I have gained at the same time a friend and a 
 lover. ... . What depth of soul! . 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 137 
 
 What character! -. ,. . No, she has never 
 loved anyone before me." How soon vanity 
 creeps into human affairs! " She is the loveHest 
 woman in Paris," he thought, and his imagina- 
 tion conjured up all her charms. " She has 
 chosen me before all the others. She had the 
 flower of Society at her feet. That colonel of 
 hussars, gallant, good-looking and not too stout; 
 that young author, who paints in water-colours 
 so well, and who is such a capital actor; that 
 Russian Lovelace, who has been in the Balkan 
 campaign and served under Diebitch; above all, 
 
 Camille T , who is brilliantly clever, has 
 
 good manners and a fine sabre-cut across his 
 forehead. . ,. . She has dismissed them all 
 forme! . . ." Then came the refrain — "Oh, 
 how happy I am! how happy I am! " and he got 
 up and opened the window, for he could scarcely 
 breathe. First he walked about; then he tossed 
 on his couch. 
 
 A happy lover is almost as tedious as an un- 
 happy one. One of my friends, who is generally 
 in one or other of these conditions, found that the 
 only way of getting any attention was to give 
 me an excellent breakfast, over which he could 
 unburden himself on the subject of his amours. 
 When the coffee was finished he was obliged to 
 choose a totally different topic of conversation. 
 
138 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 As I can not give breakfast to all my readers, 
 I make them a present of Saint-Clair's ec- 
 stasies. Besides, it is impossible always to live 
 in cloudland. Saint-Clair was tired ; he yawned, 
 stretched his arms, saw that it was broad day 
 and at last slept. When he awoke he saw by his 
 watch that he had hardly time to dress and rush 
 off to Paris, to attend a luncheon-party of sev- 
 eral of his young friends. 
 
 They had just uncorked another bottle of 
 champagne. I leave my readers to guess how 
 many had preceded it. It is sufficient to know 
 that they had reached that stage which comes 
 quickly enough at a young men's dinner-party, 
 when everybody speaks at once, and when the 
 steady heads get anxious for those who can not 
 carry so much. 
 
 " I wish," said Alphonse de Themines, who 
 had never missed a chance of talking about 
 England — " I wish that it was the custom in 
 Paris, as it is in London, for each one to 
 propose a toast to his mistress. If it were we 
 should find out for whom our friend Saint- 
 Clair sighs." And, while uttering these words, 
 he fiUed up his own glass and those of his neigh- 
 bours. 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 139 
 
 Saint-Clair felt slightly embarrassed, but 
 was about to reply when Jules Lambert pre- 
 vented him. 
 
 " I heartily approve this custom," he said, 
 raising his glass; "and I adopt it. To all the 
 miUiners of Paris, with the exception of those 
 past thirty, the one-eyed and the lame." 
 
 "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the anglo- 
 maniacs. Saint-Clair rose, glass in hand. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said he, " I have not such a 
 large heart as has our friend Jules, but it is more 
 constant — a constancy all the more faithful since 
 I have been long separated from the lady of my 
 thoughts. Nevertheless I am sure that you wiU 
 approve of my choice, even if you are not al- 
 ready my rivals. To Judith Pasta, gentlemen! 
 May we soon welcome back the first tragedienne 
 of Europe." 
 
 Themines was about to criticise the toast, but 
 was interrupted by acclamation. Saint-Clair 
 having parried this thrust, believed himself safe 
 for the rest of the day. 
 
 The conversation turned first on theatres. 
 From the criticism of the drama they wandered 
 to political topics. From the Duke of Welling- 
 ton they passed to English horses. From Eng- 
 lish horses to women, by a natural connection of 
 ideas ; for, to young men, a good horse first, and 
 
140 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 then a beautiful mistress, are the two most de- 
 sirable objects. 
 
 Then they discussed the means of acquiring 
 these coveted treasures. Horses are bought, 
 women also are bought; only we do not so talk 
 of them. Saint-Clair, after modestly plead- 
 ing inexperience in this delicate subject, gave as 
 his opinion that the chief way to please a woman 
 is to be singular, to be different from others. 
 But he did not think it possible to give a general 
 prescription for singularity. 
 
 " According to your view," said Jules, " a 
 lame or hump-backed man would have a better 
 chance of pleasing than one of ordinary make." 
 
 " You push things too far," retorted Saint- 
 Clair, " but I am willing to accept all the conse- 
 quences of my proposition. For example, if I 
 were hump-backed, instead of blowing out my 
 brains I would make conquests. In the first 
 place, I would try my wiles on those who are 
 generally tender-hearted; then on those women 
 — and there are many of them — who set up for 
 being original — eccentric, as they say in Eng- 
 land. To begin with, I should describe my piti- 
 ful condition, and point out that I was the victim 
 of Nature's cruelty. I should try to move them 
 to sympathy with my lot, I should let them 
 suspect that I was capable of a passionate love. 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 141 
 
 I should kill one of my rivals in a duel, and I 
 should pretend to poison myself with a feeble 
 dose of laudanum. After a few months they 
 would not notice my deformity, and then I 
 should be on the watch for the first signs of af- 
 fection. With women who aspire to originahty 
 conquest is easy. Only persuade them that it is 
 a hard-and-fast rule that a deformed person can 
 never have a love affair, they wiU immediately 
 then wish to prove the opposite." 
 
 " What a Don Juan! " cried Jules. 
 
 " As we have not had the misfortune of being 
 born deformed," said Colonel Beaujeu, " we had 
 better get our legs broken, gentlemen." 
 
 " I fully agree with Saint-Clair," said Hec- 
 tor Roquantin, who was only three and a half 
 feet high. " We constantly see beautiful and 
 fashionable women giving themselves to men 
 whom you fine fellows would never dream of." 
 
 " Hector, just ring the bell for another bot- 
 tle, wiU you? " said Themines casually. 
 
 The dwarf got up and everyone smiled, re- 
 calling the fable of the fox without a tail. 
 
 " As for me," said Themines, renewing the 
 conversation, " the longer I live, the more clearly 
 I see that the chief singularity which attracts 
 even the most obdurate, is passable features " — 
 and he threw a complaisant glance in a mirror 
 
142 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 opposite — " passable features and good taste in 
 dress," and he filliped a crtimb of bread off his 
 coat. 
 
 "Bah!" cried the dwarf, "with good looks 
 and a coat by Staub, there are plenty of women 
 to be had for a week at a time, but we should be 
 tired of them at the second meeting. More than 
 that is needed to win what is called love. . . . 
 You must . . ." 
 
 " Stop ! " interrupted Themines. " Do you 
 want an apt illustration? You all know what 
 kind of man Massigny was. Manners Hke an 
 English groom, and no more conversation than 
 his horse. . . . But he was as handsome as 
 Adonis, and could tie his cravat like Brummel. 
 Altogether he was the greatest bore I have ever 
 met." 
 
 " He almost killed me with weariness," said 
 Colonel Beaujeu. " Only think, I once had to 
 travel two hundred leagues with him! " 
 
 " Did you know," asked Saint-Clair, " that 
 he caused the death of poor Richard Thornton, 
 whom you all knew? " 
 
 " But," objected Jules, " I thought he was 
 assassinated by brigands near Fondi? " 
 
 "Granted; but Massigny was at all events 
 an accomplice in the crime. A party of travel- 
 lers, Thornton among them, had arranged to go 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 143 
 
 to Naples together to avoid attacks from brig- 
 ands. Massigny asked to be allowed to join 
 them. As soon as Thornton heard this, he set 
 out before the others, apparently to avoid being 
 long with Massigny. He started alone, and 
 you know the rest." 
 
 " Thornton took the only course," said The- 
 mines; " he chose the easiest of two deaths. We 
 should aU have done the same in his place." 
 Then, after a pause, " You grant me," he went 
 on, " that Massigny was the greatest bore on 
 earth? " 
 
 " Certainly," they all cried with one accord. 
 
 "Don't let us despair," said Jules; "let us 
 make an exception in favour of . . . espe- 
 cially when he divulges his political intrigues." 
 
 " You will next grant me," continued The- 
 mines, " that Madam de Coursy is as clever a 
 woman as can be found anywhere." 
 
 A moment's silence followed. Saint-Clair 
 looked down and fancied that all eyes were fixed 
 on himself. 
 
 " Who disputes it? " he said at length, still 
 bending over his plate apparently to examine 
 more closely the flowers painted in the china. 
 
 " I maintain," said Jules, raising his voice — 
 " I maintain that she is one of the three most 
 fascinating women in Paris." 
 
144 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 " I knew her husband," said the Colonel, " he 
 often showed me her charming letters." 
 
 " Auguste," interrupted Hector Roquantin, 
 " do introduce me to the Countess. They say 
 you can do anything with her." 
 
 " When she returns to Paris at the end of 
 autumn, . . . " murmured Saint-Clair, " I — 
 I believe she does not entertain visitors in the 
 country." 
 
 "Will you listen to me?" exclaimed The- 
 mines. 
 
 Silence was restored. Saint-Clair fidgeted 
 upon his chair like a prisoner before his judges. 
 
 " You did not know the Countess three years 
 ago because you were then in Germany, Saint- 
 Clair," went on Alphonse de Themines, with ag- 
 gravating coolness. " You can not form any 
 idea, therefore, of her as she was then; lovely, 
 with the freshness of a rose, and as light-hearted 
 and gay as a butterfly. Perhaps you do not 
 know that among all her many admirers Mas- 
 signy was the one she honoured with her favours? 
 The most stupid and ridiculous of men turned 
 the head of the most fascinating amongst 
 women. Do you suppose that a deformed per- 
 son could have done as much? Nonsense; be- 
 heve me, with a good figure and a first-rate tailor, 
 only boldness in addition is needed." 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 145 
 
 Saint-Clair was in a most awkward position. 
 He longed to fling back the lie direct in the 
 speaker's face, but was restrained from fear of 
 compromising the Countess. He would have 
 liked to have said something to defend her, but 
 he was tongue-tied. His lips trembled with rage, 
 and he tried to find some indirect means of 
 forcing a quarrel, but could not. 
 
 " What," exclaimed Jules, with astonish- 
 ment, " Madam de Coursy gave herself to Mas- 
 signy? Frailty, thy name is woman!" 
 
 " The reputation of a woman being of such 
 small moment, it is, of course, allowable to pull 
 it to pieces for the sake of a little sport," ob- 
 served Saint-Clair in a dry and scornful tone, 
 " and " 
 
 But as he spoke he remembered with dismay 
 a certain Etruscan vase that he had noticed a 
 hundred times upon the mantelpiece in the 
 Countess's house in Paris. He knew that it 
 was a gift from Massigny, who had brought 
 it back with him from Italy; and — over- 
 whelming coincidence! — it had been taken by 
 the Countess from Paris to her country house. 
 Every evening when Mathilde took the flowers 
 out of her dress she put them in this Etrus- 
 can vase. 
 
 Speech died upon his lips. He could neither 
 
146 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 see nor think of anything but of that Etruscan 
 vase. 
 
 " How absurd," cries a critic, " to suspect his 
 mistress from such a trifle! " 
 
 " Have you ever been in love, my dear 
 critic? " 
 
 Themines was in too good a humour to take 
 offence at the tone Saint-Clair had used when 
 speaking to him, and replied Hghtly and with 
 great good nature — 
 
 " I can only repeat what I heard in Society, 
 It passed as a true story while you were in 
 Germany. However, I scarcely know Madam 
 de Coursy. It is eighteen months since I was 
 at her house. Very hkely I am wrong, and the 
 story was a fabrication of Massigny's. But let 
 us return to our discussion, for whether my 
 illustration be false or not does not affect my 
 point. You all know that the cleverest woman 
 in France, whose works " 
 
 The door opened, and Theodore Neville came 
 in. He had just returned from Egypt. 
 
 " Theodore, you have soon come back! " He 
 was overwhelmed with questions. 
 
 " Have you brought back a real Turkish cos- 
 tume? " asked Themines. " Have you got an 
 Arabian horse and an Egyptian groom? " 
 
 " What sort of man is the Pasha? " said 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 147 
 
 Jules. " When will he make himself indepen- 
 dent ? Have you seen a head cut off with a single 
 stroke of the sabre? " 
 
 " And the almies" said Roquantin. " Are 
 the Cairo women beautiful? " 
 
 " Did you meet General L ? " asked 
 
 Colonel Beaujeu. " Has he organised the army 
 
 of the Pasha? Did Colonel C give you a 
 
 sword for me? " 
 
 "And the Pyramids? The cataracts of the 
 Nile? And the statue of Memnon? Ibrahim 
 Pasha?" etc. They all talked at once; Saint- 
 Clair only brooded on the Etruscan vase. 
 
 Theodore sat cross-legged. He had learnt 
 that habit in Egypt, and did not wish to lose 
 it in France. He waited tiU his questioners were 
 tired, and then spoke as fast as he could to save 
 himself from being easily interrupted. 
 
 " The Pyramids! upon my word they are a 
 regular humbug. They are not so high as I 
 expected. Strasburg Cathedral is only four 
 yards lower. I passed by the antiquities. Do 
 not talk to me about them. The very sight of 
 hieroglyphics makes me faint. There are plenty 
 of travellers who worry themselves over these 
 things! My object was to study the nature and 
 manners of all the strange people that jostle 
 against each other in the streets of Alexandria 
 
148 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 and of Cairo. Turks, Bedouins, Copts, Fellahs, 
 Moghrebins. I drew up a few hasty notes when 
 I was in the quarantine hospital. What infa- 
 mous places they are! I hope none of you fel- 
 lows are nervous about infection! I smoked my 
 pipe calmly in the midst of three hundred 
 plague-stricken people. Ah! Colonel, you would 
 admire the well-mounted cavalry out there. I 
 must show you some superb weapons that I have 
 brought back. I have a djerid which belonged 
 to a famous Mourad Bey. I have a yataghan 
 for you, Colonel, and a khandjar for Auguste. 
 You must see my metchld and hournous and 
 hhaick. Do you know I could have brought back 
 any number of women with me? Ibrahim Pasha 
 has such numbers imported from Greece that 
 they can be had for nothing. . . . But I 
 had to think of my mother's feelings. ... I 
 talked much with the Pasha. He is a thoroughly 
 intelhgent and unprejudiced man. You would 
 hardly credit it, but he knows everything about 
 oiu- affairs. Upon my honour, he knows the 
 smallest secrets of our Cabinet. I gleaned much 
 valuable information from him on the state of 
 parties in France. . . . Just now he is 
 taken up with statistics. He subscribes to aU our 
 papers. Would you beheve it? — ^he is a pro- 
 nounced Bonapartist, and talks of nothing but 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 149 
 
 Napoleon. ' Ah! what a great man Bounabardo 
 was I ' he said to me ; ' Bounabardo,' that is how 
 he pronounces Bonaparte." 
 
 " Giourdina, meaning Jourdain," murmured 
 Themines. 
 
 " At first," continued Theodore, " Mohamed 
 Ali was extremely reserved with me. All the 
 Turks are very suspicious, you know, and he 
 took me for a spy, or a Jesuit, the devil he did! 
 He had a perfect horror of Jesuits. But, after 
 several visits, he recognised that I was an un- 
 prejudiced traveller, anxious to inform myself 
 at first hand of Eastern manners, customs and 
 pohtics. Then he unbosomed himself and spoke 
 freely to me. At the third and last audience he 
 granted me I ventured to ask His Excellency 
 why he did not make himself independent of the 
 Porte. 'By Allah!' he replied, 'I wish it in- 
 deed, but I fear the Liberal papers which govern 
 your country would not support me if I pro- 
 claimed the independence of Egypt.' He is a 
 fine old man, with a long white beard. He never 
 smiles. He gave us some first-rate confections; 
 but the gift that pleased him most of all I of- 
 fered him was a collection of costumes of the 
 Imperial Guard by Charlet." 
 
 " Is the Pasha of a romantic turn of mind? '* 
 asked Themines. 
 
150 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 " He does not trouble himself much about 
 literature ; but you know, of course, that Arabian 
 literature is entirely romantic. They have a poet 
 called Melek Ayatalnefous-Ebn-Esraf, who 
 has recently pubhshed a book of Meditations, 
 compared with which Lamartine's read like 
 classic prose. I took lessons in Arabic directly 
 I got to Cairo, in order to read the Koran. I 
 did not need to have many lessons before I was 
 able to judge of the supreme beauty of the 
 prophet's style, and of the baldness of all our 
 translations. Look here, would you like to see 
 Arabian handwriting? This word in gold let- 
 ters is Allah, which means God." 
 
 As he spoke he showed them a very dirty 
 letter, which he took out of a scented silk purse. 
 
 " How long were you in Egypt? " asked The- 
 mines. 
 
 " Six weeks." 
 
 And the traveller proceeded to hold forth 
 on everything from beginning to end. Saint- 
 Clair left soon after his arrival, and went in the 
 direction of his country house. The impetuous 
 gallop of his horse prevented him from thinking 
 consecutively, but he felt vaguely that his hap- 
 piness in life had gone forever, and that it had 
 been shattered by a dead man and an Etruscan 
 vase. 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 151 
 
 After reaching home he threw himself on the 
 same couch upon which he had dreamed for so 
 long and so dehciously, and analysed his happi- 
 ness the evening before. His most cherished 
 dream had been that his mistress was different 
 from other women, that she had not loved nor 
 ever would love anyone but himself. Now this 
 exquisite dream must perish in the light of a 
 sad and cruel reality. " I have had a beautiful 
 mistress, but nothing more. She is clever; she 
 is therefore all the more to be blamed for loving 
 Massigny! ... I know she does love me 
 now . . . with her whole soul ... as 
 she can love. But to be loved in the same fashion 
 as Massigny has been loved! . . . She has 
 yielded herself up to my attentions, my impor- 
 tunities, my whims. But I have been deceived. 
 There has been no sympathy between us. 
 Whether her lover were Massigny, or myself, 
 was equally the same to her. He is handsome, 
 and she loves him for his good looks. She amuses 
 herself with me for a time. ' I may as well love 
 Saint-Clair,' she says to herself, * since the other 
 is dead! And if Saint-Clair dies, or I tire of 
 him, who knows? ' 
 
 " I firmly believe the devil hstens invisible 
 behind a tortured wretch like myself. The 
 enemy of mankind is tickled by the spectacle, 
 
152 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 and as soon as the victim's wounds begin to heal, 
 the devil is waiting to reopen them." 
 
 Saint- Clair thought he heard a voice murmur 
 in his ears — 
 
 " The peculiar honour 
 Of being the successor. . . ." 
 
 He sat up on the couch and threw a savage 
 glance round him. How glad he would have 
 been to find someone in his room! He would 
 have torn him limb from limb without any hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 The clock struck eight. At eight-thirty the 
 Countess expected him. Should he disappoint 
 her? Why, indeed, should he ever see Mas- 
 signy's mistress again? He lay down again on 
 the couch and shut his eyes. " I will try to 
 sleep," he said. He lay still for half a minute, 
 then he leapt to his feet and ran to the clock to 
 see how the time was going. " How I wish it 
 were half -past eight! " he thought. " It would 
 be too late then for me to start." If only he 
 were taken ill. He had not the courage to stop 
 at home unless he had an excuse. He walked up 
 and down his room, then he sat down and took 
 a book, but he could not read a syllable. He sat 
 down in front of his piano, but had not enough 
 energy to open it. He whistled ; then he looked 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 153 
 
 out of his window at the clouds, and tried to 
 count the poplars. At length he looked at the 
 clock again, and saw that he had not succeeded 
 in whiling away more than three minutes. " I 
 can not help loving her," he burst out, grinding 
 his teeth and stamping his feet; " she rules me, 
 and I am her slave, just as Massigny was before 
 me. Well, since you have not sufficient courage 
 to break the hated chain, poor wretch, you must 
 obey." 
 
 He picked up his hat and rushed out. 
 
 When we are carried away by a great pas- 
 sion it is some consolation to our self-love to look 
 down from the height of pride upon our weak- 
 ness. " I certainly am weak," he said to him- 
 self; " but what if I wish to be so? " 
 
 As he walked slowly up the footpath which 
 led to the garden gate, he could see in the dis- 
 tance a white face standing out against the dark 
 background of trees. She beckoned to him with 
 her handkerchief. His heart beat violently, and 
 his knees trembled under him; he could not 
 speak, and he had become so nervous that he 
 feared lest the Countess should read his ill- 
 humour. 
 
 He took the hand she held out to him, and 
 kissed her brow, because she threw herself into 
 his arms. He followed her into her sitting-room 
 
154 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 in silence, though scarce able to suppress his 
 bursting sighs. 
 
 A single candle hghted the Countess's room. 
 They sat down, and Saint-Clair noticed his 
 friend's coiffure; a single rose was in her hair. 
 He had given her, the previous evening, a beau- 
 tiful English engraving of Leslie's " Duchess 
 of Portland " (whose hair was dressed in the 
 same fashion), and Saint-Clair had merely re- 
 marked to the Countess, " I like that single rose 
 better than all your elaborate coiffures." He 
 did not like jewels, and inclined to the opinion 
 of a noble lord who once remarked coarsely, 
 " The devil has nothing left to teach women who 
 overdress themselves and coil their hair fantasti- 
 cally." The night before, while playing with 
 the Countess's pearl necklace (he always would 
 have something between his hands when talk- 
 ing) , Saint-Clair had said, " You are too pretty, 
 Mathilde, to wear jewels; they are only meant 
 to hide defects." To-night the Countess had 
 stripped herself of rings, necklaces, earrings and 
 bracelets, for she stored up his most trivial re- 
 marks. He noticed, above everything else in a 
 woman's toilet, the shoes she wore; and, like 
 many other men, he was quite mad on this point. 
 A heavy shower had fallen at sunset, and the 
 grass was still very wet; in spite of this the 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 155 
 
 Countess walked on the damp lawn in silk stock- 
 ings and black satin slippers. ... . Suppose 
 she were to take cold? 
 
 " She loves me," said Saint-Clair to himself. 
 
 He sighed at his folly, but smiled at Mathilda 
 in spite of himself, tossed between his sorry 
 mood and the gratification of seeing a pretty 
 woman, who had sought, by those trifles which 
 have such priceless value in the eyes of lovers, 
 to please him. 
 
 The Countess was radiant with love, play- 
 fully mischievous and bewitchingly charming. 
 She took something from a Japanese lacquered 
 box and held it out to him in her little firmly 
 closed hand. 
 
 " I broke your watch the other night," she 
 said; " here it is, mended." 
 
 She handed the watch to him and looked at 
 him tenderly, and yet mischievously, biting her 
 lower lip as though to prevent herself from 
 laughing. Oh, what beautiful white teeth she 
 had! and how they gleamed against the ruby 
 red of her lips! (A man looks exceedingly fool- 
 ish when he is being teased by a pretty woman, 
 and replies coldly.) 
 
 Saint-Clair thanked her, took the watch and 
 was about to put it in his pocket, 
 
 " Look at it and open it," she continued. 
 
156 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 " See if it is mended all right. You, who are so 
 learned, you, who have been to the Polytechnic 
 School, ought to be able to tell that." 
 
 " Oh, I didn't learn much there," said Saint- 
 Clair. 
 
 He opened the case in an absent-minded way, 
 and what was his surprise to find a miniature 
 portrait of Madam de Coursy painted on the 
 interior of the case? How could he sulk any 
 longer ? His brow cleared ; he thought no longer 
 of Massigny; he only remembered that he was 
 by the side of a beautiful woman, and that this 
 woman loved him. 
 
 « • • • • 
 
 " The lark, that harbinger of dawn," began 
 to sing, and long bands of pale hght stretched 
 across the eastern clouds. At such an hour did 
 Romeo say farewell to Juliet, and it is the 
 classic hour when all lovers should part. 
 
 Saint-Clair stood before a mantelpiece, the 
 key of the garden gate in his hand, his eyes in- 
 tently fixed on the Etruscan vase, of which we 
 have already spoken. In the depths of his soul 
 he still bore it a grudge, although he was in a 
 much better humour. The simple explanation 
 occurred to his mind that Themines might have 
 lied about it. While the Countess was wrapping 
 a shawl round her head in order to go to the gar- 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 157 
 
 den gate with him he began to tap the detested 
 vase with the key, at first gently, then gradually 
 increasing the force of his blows until it seemed 
 as though he would soon smash it to atoms. 
 
 " Oh, do be careful! " Mathilde exclaimed. 
 " You will break my beautiful Etruscan vase! " 
 
 She snatched the key out of his hands. 
 
 Saint-Clair was very angry, but he resigned 
 himself and turned his back on the chimney-piece 
 to avoid temptation. Opening his watch, he 
 began to examine the portrait that had just been 
 given him. 
 
 " Who painted it? " he asked. 
 
 " Monsieur R , and it was Massigny who 
 
 introduced him to my notice. (After Massigny 
 had been in Rome he discovered that he had 
 exquisite taste in art, and constituted himself the 
 Macsenas of aU young painters.) I really think 
 the portrait is like me, though it is a little too 
 flattering." 
 
 Saint-Clair had a burning desire to fling the 
 watch against the wall, to break it beyond all 
 hope of mending. He controlled himself, how- 
 ever, and put the watch in his pocket. Then he 
 noticed that it was dayhght, and, entreating 
 Mathilde not to come out with him, he left the 
 house and crossed the garden with rapid strides, 
 and was soon alone in the country. 
 
158 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 "Massigny! Massigny!" he burst forth 
 with concentrated rage. " Can I never escape 
 him? . . . No doubt the artist who painted 
 this portrait painted another for Massigny. 
 . What a fool I am to imagine for a 
 moment that I am loved with a love equal to 
 my own! . .. . just because she put aside 
 her jewels and wore a rose in her hair! .. i. 
 Jewels ! why, she has a chest fuU. . . „ Mas- 
 signy, who thought of little else save a woman's 
 toilet, was a lover of jewellery! , . . Yes, 
 she has a gracious nature, it must be granted; 
 she knows how to gratify the tastes of her lovers. 
 Damn it! I would rather a hundred times that 
 she were a courtesan and gave herself for money. 
 Just because she was my mistress and unpaid I 
 thought she loved me indeed." 
 
 Soon another still more unhappy idea pre- 
 sented itself. In a few weeks' time the Countess 
 would be out of mourning, and Saint-Clair had 
 promised to marry her as soon as her year of 
 widowhood was over. He had promised. Prom- 
 ised? No. He had never spoken of it, but such 
 had been his intention and the Countess had 
 understood it so. But for him this was as good 
 as an oath. Last night he would have given a 
 throne to hasten the time for acknowledging his 
 love pubhcly; now the very thought of marrying 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 159 
 
 the former mistress of Massigny filled him with 
 loathing. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I owe it to her to marry her," 
 he said to himself, " and it shall be done. No- 
 doubt she thinks, poor woman, I heard all about 
 her former liaison; it seems to have been gener- 
 ally known. Besides, she did not then know 
 me. . . . She can not understand me; she 
 thinks that I am only such another lover as 
 Massigny." 
 
 Then he said to himself, and not without a 
 certain pride — 
 
 " For three months she has made me the hap- 
 piest man hving; such happiness is worth the 
 sacrifice of my life." 
 
 He did not go to bed, but rode about among 
 the woods the whole of the morning. In one of 
 the pathways of the woods of Verrieres he saw 
 a man mounted on a fine English horse, who 
 called him immediately by his name while he was 
 still far off. It was Alphonse de Themines. To 
 a man in Saint-Clair's state of mind sohtude is 
 particularly desirable, and this encounter with 
 Themines changed his bad humour into a furious 
 temper. Themines did not notice his mood, or 
 perhaps took a wicked pleasure in thwarting it* 
 He talked and laughed and joked without no- 
 ticing that he did not receive any response. 
 
160 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 Saint-Clair soon tried to turn his horse aside 
 into a narrow track, hoping the bore would not 
 follow him ; but it was of- no use, bores do not 
 leave their prey so easily. Themines pulled the 
 bridle in the same direction, increased his horse's 
 pace to keep by Saint- Clair's side and com- 
 placently continued the conversation. 
 
 I have said that the path was a narrow one. 
 The two horses could hardly walk abreast. It 
 was not, therefore, to be wondered at that even 
 so good a horseman as Themines should graze 
 against Saint-Clair's foot as he walked along 
 with him. This put the finishing touch to his 
 anger, and he could not contain himself any 
 longer. He rose in his stirrups and struck The- 
 mines' horse sharply across the nose with his 
 whip. 
 
 " What the devil is the matter with you, 
 Auguste? " cried Themines. " Why do you 
 strike my horse? " 
 
 " Why do you pursue me? " roared Saint- 
 Clair. 
 
 " Have you lost your senses, Saint-Clair? 
 You forget to whom you are talking." 
 
 " I know quite well that I am talking to a 
 puppy." 
 
 " Saint-Clair! . . . you must be mad, I 
 think. . . .. Listen to me. To-morrow you 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 161 
 
 will either apologise to me, or you will account 
 for your insolent conduct." 
 
 " To-morrow, then, sir " 
 
 Themines stopped his horse; Saint-Clair 
 pushed his on, and very soon disappeared among 
 the trees. 
 
 He was calmer now. He was silly enough 
 to believe in presentiments. He felt sure he 
 would be killed on the morrow, and that would 
 be a suitable ending to his condition. Only one 
 more day of anxieties and torments to endure. 
 He went home and sent a note by his servant 
 to Colonel Beaujeu. He wrote several letters, 
 after which he dined with a good appetite, and 
 was promptly at the little garden gate by 8.30. 
 
 " What is the matter with you to-day, Au- 
 guste? " said the Countess. " You are unusually 
 lively, and yet your gaiety does not move me 
 to laugh. Last night you were just a trifle dull, 
 and I was the gay one ! We have changed parts 
 to-day. I have a racking headache." 
 
 " Dear one, I admit it. Yes, I was very 
 tedious yesterday, but to-day I have been out, 
 I took exercise, and I feel quite excited." 
 
 " On the other hand, I overslept myself this 
 morning, and rose late. I had bad dreams." 
 
162 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 " Ah! dreams? Do you believe in dreams? " 
 
 " What nonsense! " 
 
 " I believe in them. I am sure that you had 
 a dream which foretold some tragic event." 
 
 " Good heavens! I never remember my 
 dreams. Once I recollect . . . that I saw 
 Massigny in my dream; so, you see, it was not 
 very entertaining." 
 
 " Massigny! But I should have thought you 
 would have been pleased at seeing him again! " 
 
 "Poor Massigny!" 
 
 " Why ' poor Massigny ' ? " 
 
 " Please tell me, Auguste, what is wrong 
 with you to-night. Your smile is perfectly 
 diabohc, and you seem to be making game of 
 yourself." 
 
 "Ah! now you are treating me as badly as 
 your old dowager friends treat me." 
 
 " Yes, Auguste, you wear the same expres- 
 sion to-day that you put on before people whom 
 you do not like." 
 
 " That is unpardonable in me. Come, give 
 me your hand." 
 
 He kissed her hand with ironical gallantry, 
 and they gazed at each other studiously for a 
 minute. Saint-Clair was the first to drop his 
 eyes. 
 
 " How difficult it is," he exclaimed, " to live 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 163 
 
 in this world without being thought ill of 1 One 
 ought really never to talk of anything but the 
 weather and hunting, or eagerly to discuss with 
 your old friends the reports of their benevolent 
 societies." 
 
 He picked up a paper from the table near 
 him. 
 
 " Come, here is your lace-cleaner's biU. Let 
 us discuss that, sweetheart; then you can not say 
 I am iU-tempered." 
 
 " ReaUy, Auguste, you amaze me. . . ." 
 " This handwriting puts me in mind of a 
 letter I found this morning. I must explain that 
 I have fits of imtidiness occasionally, and I was 
 arranging my papers. Well, then, I found a 
 love-letter from a dressmaker with whom I fell 
 in love at sixteen. She had a trick of writing 
 each word most fantastically, and her style was 
 equal to her writing. Well, I was foolish enough 
 then to be vexed that my mistress could not 
 write as well as Madame de Sevigne, and I 
 left her abruptly. In reading over this letter 
 to-day I see that this dressmaker really did love 
 me." 
 
 " ReaUy! a woman whom you kept? " 
 " In fine style on fifty francs a month. But 
 I could not aif ord more, as my guardian only 
 allowed me a little money at a time, for he said 
 
164 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 that youths who had money ruined themselves 
 and others." 
 
 " What became of this woman? " 
 
 " How should I know? . . . Probably 
 she died in a hospital." 
 
 " Auguste, ... if that were true you 
 would not speak so flippantly." 
 
 " Well, then, to tell you the truth, she is 
 married to a respectable man, and when I came 
 of age I gave her a small dowry." 
 
 " How good of you! . . . But why do 
 you try to make yourself out so evil? " 
 
 " Oh, I am good enough. . . . The more 
 I think of it the more I persuade myself that 
 this woman really did care for me. . 
 But on the other hand, it is difficult to discern 
 true feeling under such a ridiculous expression 
 of it." 
 
 " You ought to have shown me your letter. 
 I should not have been jealous. . . . We 
 women have finer tact than you, and we can tell 
 at a glance, from the style of a letter, whether 
 the writer is sincere, or feigning a passion he does 
 not really feel." 
 
 " But what a number of times you have al- 
 lowed yourself to be taken in by fools and 
 rogues ! " 
 
 As he spoke he looked at the Etruscan vase 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 165 
 
 with a threatening glance, to which his voice 
 responded, but Mathilde went on without no- 
 ticing anything. 
 
 " Come, now, all you men wish to pose as 
 Don Juans. You fancy you are making dupes 
 when often you have encountered only Dona 
 Juana, who is much more cunning than your- 
 selves." 
 
 " I perceive that with your superior wit you 
 ladies scent out rakes in every place. I doubt 
 not also that our friend Massigny, who was both 
 a stupid and a coxcomb, became, when dead, 
 spotless and a martyr." 
 
 "Massigny? He was not a fool; then too 
 there are silly women to be found. I must tell 
 you a story about Massigny. But surely have I 
 not told it you already? " 
 
 " Never," rephed Saint-Clair tremblingly. 
 
 " Massigny fell in love with me after his re- 
 turn from Italy. My husband knew him and 
 introduced him to me as a man of taste and 
 culture. Those two were just made for each 
 other. Massigny was most attentive to me from 
 the first; he gave me some water-colour sketches 
 which he had bought from Schroth, as his own 
 paintings, and talked of music and art in the 
 most divertingly superior manner. One day he 
 sent me an incredibly ridiculous letter. He said. 
 
166 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 among other things, that I was the best woman 
 in Paris; therefore he wished to be my lover. I 
 showed the letter to my cousin Julie. We were 
 then both very silly, and we resolved to play him 
 a trick. One evening we had several visitors, 
 among them being Massigny. My cousin said 
 to me, ' I am going to read you a declaration 
 of love which I received this morning.' She took 
 the letter and read it amidst peals of laughter. 
 . . . Poor Massigny! . . ." 
 
 Saint-Clair fell on his knees uttering a cry 
 of joy. He seized the Countess's hand and 
 covered it with tears and kisses. Mathilde was 
 surprised beyond measure, and thought at first 
 he had gone mad. Saint-Clair could only mur- 
 mur, "Forgive me! forgive me!" When he 
 rose to his feet he was radiant; he was happier 
 than on the day when Mathilde had said to him 
 for the first time, " I love you." 
 
 " I am the guiltiest and most stupid of men," 
 he cried; " for two days I have misjudged you 
 ,. . . and never given you a chance to clear 
 yourself. . . ." 
 
 " You suspected me? . . . And of 
 what? " 
 
 " Oh! idiot that I was! . . . they told me 
 you had loved Massigny, and " 
 
 " Massigny! " and she began to laugh; then 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 167 
 
 soon quickly growing more earnest, " Auguste," 
 she said, " how could you be so foolish as to har- 
 bour such suspicions, and so hypocritical as to 
 hide them from me? " 
 
 Her eyes filled with tears. 
 
 " I implore you to forgive me." 
 
 "Of course I forgive you, beloved . 
 but let me first swear. . . . " 
 
 " Oh! I believe you, I beheve you; do not 
 say any more about it." 
 
 " But in Heaven's name what put such an 
 improbable notion in your head? " 
 
 " Nothing, nothing in the world except my 
 accursed temper . . . and . . . would 
 you believe it? that Etruscan vase which I knew 
 Massigny had given you." 
 
 The Countess clasped her hands together in 
 amazement, and then she burst into shouts of 
 laughter. 
 
 " My Etruscan vase I my Etruscan vase! " 
 
 Saint-Clair was obliged to join in the laugh- 
 ter himself, although great tears roUed down his 
 cheeks. He seized Mathilde in his arms. " I 
 will not let you go," he said, " until you pardon 
 me." 
 
 " Yes, I forgive you, though you are so 
 foolish," she replied, kissing him tenderly. 
 " You make me very happy to-day; it is the first 
 
168 THE ETRUSCAN VASE 
 
 time I have seen you shed tears, and I thought 
 that you could not weep." 
 
 Then she struggled from his embrace, and, 
 snatching the Etruscan vase, broke it into a thou- 
 sand pieces on the floor. It was a valuable and 
 unique work, painted in three colours, and rep- 
 resented the fight between a Lapithe and a 
 Centaur. 
 
 For several hours Saint-Clair was the hap- 
 piest and the most ashamed of men. 
 
 " Well," said Roquantin to Colonel Beau- 
 jeu, when he met him in the evening at Tortoni's, 
 " is this news true? " 
 
 " Too true, my friend," answered the Colonel 
 sadly. 
 
 " Tell me, how did it come about? " 
 
 "Oh! just as it should. Saint-Clair began 
 by telling me he was in the wrong, but that he 
 wished to draw Themines' fire before begging 
 his pardon. I could do no other than accede. 
 Themines wished to draw lots who should fire 
 first. Saint-Clair insisted that Themines should. 
 Themines fired; and I saw Saint-Clair turn 
 round once and then fell stone dead. I have 
 often remarked, in the case of soldiers when they 
 have been shot, this strange turning round which 
 precedes death." 
 
Then she struggled from his embrace, and, 
 snatching the Etruscan vase, broke it into a thou- 
 sand pieces on the floor. 
 Etched by Lnlauze from~a,painting by Ed. de Beaumont. 
 
Ed. dc B eatLmoirt -Dmi. . '^afyft^i^^ JS05 Jn. jOuoUcJ^? ef^^tt 
 
THE ETRUSCAN VASE 169 
 
 "How very extraordinary!" said Roquan- 
 tin. " But Themines, what did he do? " 
 
 "Oh, what is usual on these occasions: he 
 threw his pistol on the ground remorsefully, with 
 such force that he broke the hammer. It was an 
 English pistol of Manton's. I don't believe there 
 is a gunmaker in Paris who coiild make such 
 another." 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 The Countess shut herself up in her country 
 house for three whole years without seeing any- 
 one; winter and summer, there she lived, hardly 
 going out of her room. She was waited upon 
 by a mulatto woman who knew of the attach- 
 ment between Saint- Clair and herself. She 
 scarcely spoke a word to her day after day. At 
 the end of three years her cousin Julie returned 
 from a long voyage. She forced her way into 
 the house and found poor Mathilde thin and pale, 
 the very ghost of the beautiful and fascinating 
 woman she had left behind. By degrees she 
 persuaded her to come out of her solitude, and 
 took her to Hyeres. The Countess languished 
 there for three or four months, and then died 
 of consumption brought on by her grief — so said 
 Dr. M , who attended her. 
 
 1830. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 JLes Mecontents 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONiE 
 
 The Count des Touenelles. 
 
 The Countess des Touenelles. 
 
 Edouaed Nangis — cousin of the Countess, and 
 
 Lieutenant in the Light-Horse. 
 The Baeon de Machicoulis. 
 The Count de Fieedonjon. 
 The Maequis de Malespine. 
 The Chevaliee de Thimbeay. 
 Beeteand — called Sans-Peue — formerly an 
 
 officer in the army of La Vendee. 
 Juliette — femme de chambre of the Countess 
 
 DES Touenelles. 
 Fean^ois — confidential servant of the Count 
 
 DES Touenelles. 
 A Gendaeme. 
 
 The scene is laid in the Chateau des Tour- 
 nelles, in a Department bordering on La Vendee. 
 
 172 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 [^ dining-room: in the middle a table cov- 
 ered with a green cloth — upon it ink-'welU, 
 penSj etc. 
 
 Scene I 
 
 FeancoiSj Juliette {they are arranging chairs 
 around the table). 
 
 Feancois. I tell you, JuL'ette, it is just like 
 the Revolution. They are going to try to copy 
 the Committee of Public Safety. The Commit- 
 teee of PubHc Safety had a green table-cloth 
 exactly like this. 
 
 Juliette. Nonsense! You don't know what 
 you are talking about. Madame loathes the 
 Revolution. I think that they are going to write 
 " bouts-rimes " just as they did last year. 
 
 Feancois. What is " bouts-rimes " ? 
 
 Juliette. It's a game, but you have to be 
 clever to play it. Each one in the party writes 
 something on a sheet of paper and then there's 
 one person who begins to laugh, and then they 
 all laugh like mad. But here comes Madame! 
 Hurry away, and get the arm-chair she told you 
 about. 
 
 173 
 
174 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Scene II 
 FRAN901SJ Juliette^ the Countess des Toue- 
 
 NELLES. 
 
 The Countess. Juliette, fetch me the bronze 
 bell from my boudoir. 
 
 Juliette. The beU? But if you wished to 
 caU me I should hear the dining-room beU much 
 better — see Madame — this bell. 
 
 The Countess. I asked you to fetch the bell 
 from my boudoir, and I did not say it was to 
 call you. Go and get it now. 
 
 Juliette. I did not mean any harm, Ma- 
 dame — I'll go at once. (Aside) What can all 
 these preparations mean? 
 
 {Exit Juliette, Fean^ois enters carry- 
 ing an arm-chair.) 
 
 The Countess. Fran9ois, put that chair at 
 the middle of the table. No, stupid! don't put it 
 on the table but beside it. Good! That wiU do. 
 That is all I need just now. (Exit Feancois.) 
 Really this dining-room looks as if it had been 
 especially planned for our meeting. After all 
 it is better than the underground chamber of the 
 old tower, which would have been more romantic 
 but is too damp ; and we might have caught pneu- 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 175 
 
 monia there. Now this bell will he most effec- 
 tive. Besides it may prove useful, for if the 
 discussion becomes very stormy the President 
 would need it. How nice that would be. 
 
 Juliette {returns with bell). Here it is, 
 Madame — where shall I put it? 
 
 The Countess. Put it on the table near the 
 big arm-chair. Juliette, yesterday you asked per- 
 mission to go to see your sister. You may go out 
 to-day. I shall not need you. 
 
 Juliette. Oh, but my sister is not expecting 
 me to-day, Madame! Besides, you have given 
 the coachman leave to go out to-day, and Master 
 has told his valet that he may go too, so if by 
 chance you were to have any callers there would 
 be no one to open the door. 
 
 The Countess (aside), I wonder if she 
 wishes to stay to spy on our movements? 
 (Aloud) I am not expecting anyone. But for 
 that matter, Juliette, you may do as you please. 
 In any case you must take the book which is on 
 my desk to Madame de Saint-Denise, that is quite 
 near your sister's — less than a mile and a half 
 from here. Tell her, please, that I thank her 
 very much for the book, and then teU her 
 
 Juliette. Yes, Madame? 
 
 The Countess. That — ^the — meeting 
 
 Juliette. The meeting? 
 
176 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 The Countess. The one that she knows 
 about. Wait — I'll just write her a little note. 
 You are reaUy so very forgetful. Oh, by the 
 way, Juliette, go and get me one of the porcelain 
 vases from my mantel-piece. (Juliette goes 
 out.) I was forgetting all about the urn for the 
 ballots — the most important thing of all. {She 
 •writes) " At last it has been arranged that our 
 friends are to meet here to-night, and we are to 
 organise the secret society which" — ^wait a bit; 
 perhaps I am making it too explicit. I must be 
 more cautious. {She tears up the note tahich she 
 has begun and writes again) " Our friends are 
 coming to see me to-day; we " — ah! now I have 
 an excellent idea ! " We shall endeavour to re- 
 store to its once honoured position that fashion 
 of bygone days, which you love as deeply as I. 
 P.S. Keep Juhette as long as you can " — a 
 
 word to the wise {Enter Juliette.) Well, 
 
 why those two vases? I asked you for only 
 one. 
 
 Juliette. It was to have them match, 
 Madame. 
 
 The Countess. Have them match! Take 
 this one away. Set the other one beside the bell. 
 Here, take this letter and give it with the book 
 
 to Madame de Saint-Denise. Ah! — on the 
 
 way back go to Pitou, the book-seller, and ask 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 177 
 
 him for " The Prince of Machiavelli " : be sure 
 to remember: "The Prince of Machiavelli." 
 
 Juliette. The Prince of Machiavelli. I can 
 tell you, Madame, if it is a new novel M. Pitou 
 will probably not have it in stock yet. 
 
 The Countess. That is to be found in every 
 library. Wait, I'll write the title: " The Prince 
 of Machiavelli." The best translation. (Juli- 
 ette goes out.) There! I'm rid of her at last. 
 I haven't any misgivings about Francois. How 
 long the hour is in coming round! I am simply 
 beside myself with joy. It seems to me that I 
 am just in my element. What a delightful oc- 
 cupation conspiring is! 
 
 {Enter the Count des Touenelles.) 
 
 Scene III 
 
 The Countess^ the Count. 
 
 The Countess. Well, Monsieur des Tour- 
 nelles, the hour draws near. Is your terror sub- 
 siding? 
 
 The Count. My terror? Say rather my un- 
 easiness; and really I have some ground for it. 
 The idea of conspiring at this present moment! 
 — for to put it plainly we are conspiring. I don't 
 know if you realise what danger there is in con- 
 
178 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 spiring in our days, surrounded by police as sus- 
 picious as those of the Emperor, Do you know 
 that they are outrageously brutal? and if we 
 were discovered we should be exceedingly lucky 
 if no worse a fate befell us than to spend the 
 rest of our hves in the Chateau of Ham, or at 
 Vincennes. 
 
 The Countess. But think of the glory that 
 will be ours if we succeed. 
 
 The Count. It's a high-sounding word — 
 4;hat's aU! Moreover, since we are somewhat in- 
 volved — very slightly involved — in this affair, 
 let us iry to direct it with great prudence. Since 
 you wish to conspire — good and well, let us con- 
 spire, but do not let us compromise ourselves. 
 And, see here, do you wish to know exactly what 
 I think about the whole matter? I am afraid 
 that you may really harm our cause by your very 
 zeal, which often runs to rashness. For instance, 
 the other day, at the Prefect's, why did you need 
 to say before at least twenty persons, that you 
 did Jtiot approve of the war with Spain, and that 
 you would be exceedingly sorry if your cousin 
 were sent therel 
 
 The Countess. Well, and isn't it an abom- 
 inable war — rbegun by most odious treason? and 
 who are the victims of this black perfidy? 
 Princes whom we should love and respect since 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 179 
 
 they belong to the august family which once 
 governed us, and which by the grace of God, we 
 shall once more see upon the throne. 
 
 The Count. Please don't speak so loudly! 
 Fran9ois might hear us in the hall. Yes, I agree 
 with you it is an abominable war, but at the Pre- 
 fect's ! and he noticed it, too, for after dinner his 
 wife passed coffee to everyone but me. 
 
 The Countess. What a splendid revenge, 
 and quite worthy of the horrid creature who 
 holds herself as proudly in her carriage as if 
 everyone did not know that her father was in 
 the lace-trade. But patience! In a little while 
 we shall see grovelling in the dust, all these 
 mushrooms that the Revolution has caused to 
 spring up upon the ruins of the throne. 
 
 The Count. And we'U restore legal order. 
 How impatient I am to see it once more in force. 
 Under these new laws of the country there is no 
 way of sending all those miserable poachers to 
 the penitentiary; and they don't leave us a single 
 partridge to shoot after the first of October. 
 
 The Countess. And just think of the glori- 
 ous privileges which our ancestors enjoyed. 
 And, isn't it an injustice that fairly cries out for 
 vengeance, that the Count des Toumelles is not 
 governor of his province. He, whose ancestors 
 had armed retainers and who could levy toll from 
 
180 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 each person who crossed over that wretched little 
 bridge a league from here. 
 
 The Count. I have documents to prove it. 
 
 The Countess. And, moreover, isn't it a 
 burning shame that when you, Monsieur des 
 Tournelles, in a moment of desperation asked to 
 be appointed Chamberlain to the Usurper, your 
 request was not granted? Should not this out- 
 rage make you forget all the considerations 
 which prudence might have suggested? 
 
 The Count. I did forget myself for a mo- 
 ment, it is true — that man does dazzle one so — 
 But for Heaven's sake don't mention my request 
 to the gentlemen who are coming to-day. 
 
 The Countess. Don't worry about that. I 
 speak about it only to show you in what a state 
 of confusion public aifairs really are, and to 
 prove to you that the moment has come when 
 every Frenchman should arise and shake oif this 
 humiliating yoke. 
 
 The Count. You are right. The whole 
 French nation should unite to shake off this 
 yoke. Parbleu ! if the whole French nation were 
 to rise in a body against the Usurper I should 
 not be the last to join her ranks. But the deuce 
 take it all, there are only five or six of us to 
 conspire against a man who is all powerful. Our 
 undertaking is certainly hazardous. AH last 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 181 
 
 night I thought about it, and I could not close 
 an eye. The truth is I had been reading " The 
 Conspiracies " of Saint-Real and it had upset 
 me a good deal. They were always discovered. 
 I have a presentiment that 
 
 The Countess. Spare me, I do beg of you, 
 your fears and your presentiments, Monsieur. 
 You are a man and a gentleman, you have been 
 a soldier, and you are afraid of everything. I, 
 who am only a woman, I look with a calm eye 
 upon all the consequences which may be entailed 
 by the enterprise upon which I have embarked. 
 Let them discover our conspiracy — ^let them ar- 
 rest me — ^let them drag me away to prison! I 
 shall take a grim pleasure in appearing before 
 my judges and pleading my cause. " Yes, I 
 did conspire," I will tell them. " I did conspire 
 to overthrow your Emperor, and if it is a crime 
 to have tried to free one's country from a tyrant 
 then am I guilty ! " I shall dress very simply 
 for the occasion, all in black, with my hair 
 parted, no jewels. On second thought, I would 
 have a gold cross. I shall speak, and I shall 
 make an impression, I assure you. A woman 
 who is young and distinguished looking — accused 
 of conspiracy. Every heart will sympathise with 
 her, — and if I must walk to the scaffold 
 
 The Count. Good Heavens! To hear you 
 
182 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 talk one might fear that you would go and give 
 yourself up to the police, that you might have 
 the pleasure of posing as the heroine of a novel. 
 Melanie, Melanie, these novels that you are al- 
 ways reading will completely turn your head, 
 and that I can confidently predict. 
 
 The Countess. If these works which I read 
 inspire me with such noble and lofty sentiments, 
 it seems to me, sir, that you might do well to read 
 them a little oftener. But time is passing, the 
 appointed hour approaches, and you are not 
 dressed yet. It would be a good idea too, if you 
 should read over once more, by yourself my — 
 our speech before reading it to our friends. Be 
 particularly careful to read with special em- 
 phasis — the end — the peroration. 
 
 The Count. The peroration! Do you know 
 I think it is a little too uncompromising; and 
 
 then there are some deucedly long sentences 
 
 it will be the very dickens to take breath at the 
 right point. 
 
 The Countess. Do please hurry. Monsieur 
 des Tournelles; and above all things try to look 
 more serene. Life is a green cloth, on which there 
 is no sport at all, unless we are willing to play 
 for high stakes. 
 
 The Count. Ah, Napoleon, if you knew to 
 what dangers you were exposing yourself, you 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 183 
 
 would not have refused me the Chamberlain's 
 Key. 
 
 The Countess. Do please go quickly. I hear 
 someone coming into the court-yard on horse- 
 back. 
 
 The Count {looking out of the window). 
 Good Heavens! a soldier — an officer! We are 
 lost! All is discovered. The satellites of the 
 Emperor are coming to arrest us! 
 
 The Countess. Have some presence of mind, 
 my dear — Calm yourself! {She sits down, takes 
 a pen and writes, speaking at the same time) 
 You say then that we must invite to this ball. 
 Monsieur le Prefet, the Chief of Pohce, the 
 
 Scene IV 
 
 Edouakd de Nangis^ the Count and Countess. 
 
 Edouabd. How are you, Cousin Melanie! 
 Don't you know me? 
 
 The Countess. EDOUARDI 
 
 Edouabd. Come give me a kiss, if you are 
 not afraid of my mustaches. The deuce take it 
 all, if you aren't stunning. You have grown 
 even prettier, you have become 
 
 The Count. Monsieur de Nangis: it gives 
 me great pleasure 
 
184 THE CONSPIRATOKS 
 
 Edouahd. Monsieur de Nangis? To the 
 deuce with your Monsieur de Nangis. Just call 
 me plain Cousin Edouard. My word, it is a 
 long while since I last saw you. You've grown 
 older looking. 
 
 The Countess. Do you think so? 
 
 Edouahd. But you, Cousin Melanie, when I 
 left for Germany you were slight as a willow. 
 While now, thunder and lightning, your waist is 
 
 slim enough, but otherwise ^Diantre! it is 
 
 evident that you have good air here, and live 
 well too ! 
 
 The Countess {aside). He is odd with his 
 brusque ways — but he is a charming fellow all the 
 same. 
 
 The Count {in a whisper) . How are we go- 
 ing to get rid of him? 
 
 Edouabd. Oh, by the way, I have a month's 
 leave. I am going to spend it with you; it is 
 so deuced good to see your own people, and 
 I was fairly champing at the bit to get off 
 to see you. We'll have perfect larks, won't we? 
 hunting, fishing, and a roaring good time. 
 I am going to raise the very dickens: and 
 you won't be behind me. I used to know you 
 in the old days. I'll teU your wife some 
 of the things I know about you, you sly old 
 dog. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 185 
 
 The Count. If I told her some of the things 
 I know about you, you scamp! 
 
 Edguaed. I give you leave. But, see here, 
 I have brought two pointers with me, two thor- 
 oughbred English spaniels. They came from 
 Germany, They belonged to a Prince, whose 
 estate we turned upside down. Just wait, and 
 you will see. Ah, — and the day after to-morrow 
 my horses are coming. I have an Arabian mare 
 that I should like my cousin to try. You have 
 boars around here, haven't you? I have a boar- 
 hound too. He is coming from Bohemia. Oh! 
 what a dog ! But, Cousin Melanie, you'll have to 
 shut up your cats, otherwise he would break 
 their backs at a single snap. We are going to 
 have a time of it. You have neighbours, haven't 
 you? The more the merrier. In the morning 
 we'll go hunting — we'll drink Cousin Melanie's 
 champagne ; in the evening we'll have music, we'll 
 sing duets ; I have a regular virtuoso voice now — 
 la, la, la, la, — we'll dance, I'll make love to Cou- 
 sin Melanie, if her husband isn't jealous; you 
 aren't jealous, old fellow, are you? Sacrement, 
 as the Germans say, we might as well enjoy life. 
 
 The Count {in a whisper to the Countess). 
 Do try to get him out of the way. 
 
 The Countess {the same). I have designs 
 upon him. 
 
186 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Edouakd. By the way, old chap, what is 
 your dinner hour? Do you know I'm hungry 
 as a hvmter! I could never wait tiU dinner time. 
 
 The Count. I'U have something sent up to 
 your room. 
 
 Edouaed. No, no, let me have it here, and 
 we'll have a good chat together. I'll just 
 have a snack of anything here. My word, in 
 barracks I learned to eat and talk at the same 
 time, without losing a moment from my food. 
 {He calls) I say there, come here — What are 
 your servants' names? I say there! 
 
 The Countess {after having rung, to Fran- 
 90iSj who enters) . Bring in the game pie. What 
 wine wiU you have? 
 
 Edouakd. Claret — But, I say, have you still 
 that Pomard you said you were keeping for when 
 I should come back from Germany? 
 
 The Countess. You have a good memory — 
 Bring in a bottle of Pomard — You'll hurry up, 
 won't you, Edouard. We are going to need the 
 table in a few minutes. Monsieur des Tournelles, 
 you must go and dress. Edouard will excuse 
 you. 
 
 Edouakd. Well now, I should say that it 
 would be rather silly to stand on ceremony with 
 me. I'll not take a minute to finish. I'U just 
 gobble and run. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 187 
 
 The Count {in a whisper to the Countess) . 
 How are you going to manage? 
 
 The Countess. Just leave it to me. 
 
 The Count {the same). Perhaps the hest 
 plan would be to postpone the whole affair until 
 after he leaves. 
 
 The Countess. Do please go on as I say. 
 I'll be responsible for him. 
 
 {The Count retires.) 
 
 Scene V 
 
 Edouabd, the Countess. 
 
 Edouaed. What the dickens have you two 
 to talk about? Have you some secrets you wish 
 to keep from me, or am I in the way? 
 
 The Countess. Very far from it. We are 
 delighted to see you, Edouard, and a httle later 
 I wiU teU you what M. des Tournelles was say- 
 ing. You have your same healthy appetite, 
 I see. 
 
 Edouabd. In camp I learned to eat quickly; 
 in our barracks in Germany I learned to stay a 
 long while at table. So now I eat long and 
 quickly. And don't you know I covered twelve 
 leagues this morning on a ramshackle nag, just 
 
188 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 to see you a little sooner — But I am forgetting 
 that it isn't polite to have a hearty appetite when 
 one is with a pretty woman. {He pushes away 
 the pie, and heaves a sigh.) There! I've 
 finished. 
 
 The Countess. You don't mean to say that 
 you are going to stand on ceremony with me. 
 Don't stop. Only be careful not to spoil your 
 appetite for dinner. {She fills his glass.) How 
 do you hke this wine? 
 
 Edouabd. Most dehcious — Especially when 
 you are pouring it for me. 
 
 The Countess. Was it in the army that you 
 learned all these pretty speeches? 
 
 Edguaed. Here, Cousin Melanie, will you 
 fill my glass again, please? In the army, you see, 
 we learn to tell the plain truth without any frills, 
 and, speaking of the truth, you are a charmingly 
 beautiful woman. You can take my word for 
 it, for it's true. You are ten times, twenty times 
 prettier than you were four years ago, at the 
 time of your marriage, when I was a raw recruit, 
 head over heels in love with you and afraid to tell 
 you so! 
 
 The Countess. What a queer fellow you 
 are! 
 
 EnouAHD. Yes, my word, I am queer — more 
 so than you think — and it lies with you to make 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 189 
 
 me give an exhibition of how queer I can be 
 when I set about it. {He gets up.) 
 
 The Countess. I can easily believe it. But 
 do sit down and let us have a really serious talk. 
 {She fills up his glass.) Tell me about your 
 companions and your love affairs, for the two 
 go hand in hand. I see that you have only one 
 epaulette just as you had when you went away. 
 I thought I should see you come back a colonel 
 at least. 
 
 Edouakd. Ah, well, we can't have everything 
 we wish for, worse luck. I'm lieutenant still, 
 plain lieutenant. The cross has fairly slipped 
 between my fingers. But patience a bit longer. 
 If a bullet doesn't cut me oif 
 
 The Countess. Under the government 
 which we now have there is no chance at all for 
 men of good family. Everything goes to the 
 low-born. 
 
 Edouaed. Oh, well! I have had bad luck, 
 too. In this wretched Light-Horse no one dies 
 off. I believe the rascals are invulnerable. If 
 I had only been able to take to mathematics, I 
 should have gone into the light artillery. Pro- 
 motion is rapid I tell you in that regiment. 
 Why, if you'U believe it the battery of artillery 
 that enlisted when we did, had to be renewed 
 three times during the last year. One of my 
 
190 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 friends who was lieutenant last year is going to 
 be promoted major, if he doesn't die of a shot 
 he got in the stomach. 
 
 The Countess. If it had not been for the 
 Revolution, Edouard, you with your birth would 
 have been colonel at this very moment. 
 
 Edouard. Yes, in those days it wasn't any 
 such great luck to be colonel — ^wear a cocked 
 hat — carry your sword level, and mount guard 
 at the gate of Mme. de Pompadour, the mistress 
 of Louis XIV — great sport that was ! A glori- 
 ous career! 
 
 The Countess. Really, Edouard, you are 
 terribly misinformed, or your mind has been hor- 
 ribly perverted. If the Revolution had not upset 
 everything you would have been one of the most 
 fashionable gentlemen of your day. You would 
 be an ornament of the court, you would be 
 marquis. 
 
 Edouaed. Please, Cousin Melanie, don't 
 speak about being marquis. In the regiment 
 when they wish to put me into a fine rage they 
 call me " Monsieur le Marquis." It's so per- 
 fectly ridiculous to be a marquis. Le Marquis 
 de MarcariUe ! Jump, Marquis ! Parbleu, I got 
 a good sword cut from Simoneau, a lieutenant 
 of the 10th regiment, and gave him another just 
 as good because he called me Marquis. So, you 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 191 
 
 see, as I can not give you a sword cut, if you 
 call me Marquis, I shall kiss you. 
 
 The Countess. What a corrupter this Bo- 
 naparte isl To think that a young man be- 
 longing to a noble family could become the 
 minion of a Corsican. So, you are enthusi- 
 astic about your Emperor? He is your idol, 
 your divinity, he is everything to you. You 
 adore him? 
 
 Edouakd. My word, I may like him, but I 
 am not wild about him; my colonel asked him 
 to give me the cross; and he answered, looking 
 me over from head to foot as if I were a horse 
 on sale, " He is too young." He doesn't mince 
 matters, I tell you. 
 
 The Countess. Because he was too young I 
 What odious injustice! 
 
 Edouard. As far as that goes you are quite 
 right. At our last engagement we made a. 
 charge together with the lancers of the Guard. 
 They are the Emperor's Mttle pet lambs. Thirty 
 of them were knocked out, we lost just as many,, 
 but the general in command, wishing to curry 
 favour with Napoleon, said to him " Your lan- 
 cers covered themselves with glory, the enemy's 
 hussars were annihilated, but your brave lancers 
 suffered a heavy loss; the Light-Horse of the 
 10th suffered a slight loss " ; — so the crosses fell 
 
192 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 to the lancers, and we got blows, mud, poor quar- 
 ters and the devil to pay! 
 
 The Countess {filling his glass) . Wasn't I 
 just saying that he was the most unjust man in 
 the world! Refuse you the cross. You come 
 of too noble stock to fail to resent most violently 
 such an insult. 
 
 Edguakd. But it is not enough, just to re- 
 sent it. 
 
 The Countess. Certainly not, you must 
 avenge it. 
 
 Edouaed. Yes! the Emperor would be well 
 paid if I sent in my resignation. And then re- 
 tire in time of war! It can't be done. Our regi- 
 ment is going to Spain soon. 
 
 The Countess. To Spain! You are going 
 to take part in that frightful, that criminal war? 
 Have you so soon forgotten the treachery of 
 Bayonne? 
 
 Edouaed. Bah! Bah! These curs of Span- 
 iards wiU be only too glad if we are willing to 
 rid them of their monks. 
 
 The Countess. Oh, Edouard! How you dis- 
 tress me! How sad it is to see you holding such 
 pohtical views. 
 
 Edouakd. I? The deuce take it if I have 
 anything to do with politics! 
 
 'The Countess. I, who am scarcely older 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 193 
 
 than you, have kept alive memories, which al- 
 ready have lost their power to awaken a response 
 in your heart. 
 
 Edguard. What, Cousin Melanie, can it be 
 possible? Oh I I, too, I have not forgotten a cer- 
 tain time If you only knew all I suffered 
 
 at the time of your marriage! 
 
 The Countess. Edouard, you don't under- 
 stand me. I am referring to the days when your 
 father and mine were counted among the firmest 
 supports of the legitimate throne — of the days 
 when men willingly lost their lives in defence 
 of their King. Ah! If the gallant old Mar- 
 quis de Nangis knew that his son was clam- 
 ouring for the honour of serving a tyrant, a 
 plebeian usurper, he would rise from the grave 
 and reproach you for dishonouring your noble 
 descent. 
 
 Edouakd. Really, Cousin Melanie, you are 
 speaking about things of which I had never heard 
 even the slightest hint. I thought that your hus- 
 band wished to be Prefect, or Chamberlain or 
 something of that sort. We soldiers, you know, 
 we obey the Emperor because he is the Emperor. 
 We are not obliged to know whether he is a 
 usurper or not. 
 
 The Countess. That is to say that you give 
 up your human hearts to make slaves of your- 
 
194 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 selves. You wish to see merely by the eyes, to 
 hear merely by the ears. 
 
 Edouard. As a matter of fact he is a 
 usurper, but he is recognised by everyone. 
 
 The Countess. Except by all those noble 
 hearts which wiU never recognise any sovereign 
 other than the exiled princes. 
 
 Edouakd. The children of Louis XVI? I 
 thought that they died during the Revolution. 
 
 The Countess. Alas ! The barbarians : they 
 let his son die in a dungeon — but his brothers are 
 in exile — and a Nangis could forget them! 
 
 Edguaed. Ma foi! the fact is that I have 
 not been reading anything. 
 
 The Countess. I will admit that I have been 
 building great hopes on you. I felt sure that 
 the factitious glory of the usurper could not lead 
 you astray. I hoped that I should find you 
 faithful to the cause of the unfortunate. 
 
 Edouard. But, Cousin Melanie, I really look 
 at it in the same light, but I don't quite see how 
 one could set about 
 
 The Countess. Edouard, Edouard, your 
 discretion is, I know, quite beyond your years. I 
 wiU confide in you. Your political opinions are 
 opposed to mine, it is true; but you are a man 
 of the most sensitive honour and you will not 
 betray me. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 195 
 
 Edouakd. Oh I Cousin Melanie! but I repeat 
 that I have no political opinions and if I adopt 
 any, I shall adopt yours. 
 
 The Countess. A small band of courageous 
 men have laid a plan to free their country from 
 a shameful yoke: my husband and I are going 
 to work with this end in view. Perhaps by the 
 help of God we may succeed in recalling to 
 France our rightful princes — ^perhaps we may 
 succumb — and 
 
 Edouakd. Oh! my word, you are forming 
 a conspiracy. Malepeste! how you do go at 
 things. 
 
 The Countess. Yes, Edouard, a conspiracy. 
 And never was there one more worthy of success. 
 Thinking that you, too, were groaning under the 
 tyranny of the Corsican, I wished to offer you 
 an opportunity of sharing our glory, and our 
 danger 
 
 Edouard. What! you are plotting? seri- 
 ously? no joke? 
 
 The Countess. Yes, Edouard! And weak 
 woman though I may be, I conceived the idea of 
 this plot. Edouard, I have spoken to you very 
 openly, from my heart. If you love your Em- 
 peror more than your family, you may reveal 
 our plans, you may work our ruin: I shall have 
 courage to meet my fate. 
 
196 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Edouakd. Parbleu! what do you take me 
 for? You are not thinking of what you are say- 
 ing, — otherwise — ^my word if you are in, the 
 deuce if I would not hke to have a hand in it 
 myself. 
 
 The Countess. Can it be true? 
 
 Edouabd. Why not? I see that it pleases 
 you; and I would go through fire to please you. 
 
 The Countess. You dehghtful lad! 
 
 Edouakd. A conspiracy, that must be great 
 fun, and conspiracies are my strong point. I was 
 expelled from the lycee because I was at the 
 head of a conspiracy to thrash one of our house- 
 masters. That's why I am such an ignoramus 
 now. They put me into a military school, then 
 they put an epaulette on my shoulder, a sabre 
 to my side, and then theory — forward — ^march. 
 
 The Countess. I have not a doubt that he 
 was some Jacobin who tried to take advantage 
 of his authority to oppress some young gentle- 
 man. 
 
 Edouard. His name was Ragoulard. 
 
 The Countess. Oh I what a Jacobin name: 
 Come now, you are really one of us? 
 
 Edouaed. ReaUy now, I don't know whether 
 it is the result of your good wine or the fatigue 
 of the journey; or of your lovely eyes (which is 
 the most probable explanation) , but I feel myself 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 197 
 
 on the point of saying 1 can't put two and 
 
 two together, on my honour you have be- 
 witched me! 
 
 The Countess. Say, rather, Edouard, that 
 I have awakened in your heart love for our king 
 — a love which is as natural to members of our 
 family as are courage and beauty. 
 
 Edouaed. Well, then, it is decided. I give 
 in. I shall love our king more than you. Cousin 
 Melanie, — on my honour the word just slipped 
 out — but I have said what I think — I can't help 
 it if it does make you angry. 
 
 The Countess. You are a strange lad, 
 Edouard, — ^but you have good stuff in you and 
 I am going to try to convert you. 
 
 Edouaed. Ahl That is what the Bavarian 
 Canoness said to me — ^the one — (Aside) What 
 was I going to let out! 
 
 The Countess. We are expecting this very 
 day these friends, these faithful ones of whom 
 I was telling you. They are the most influential 
 men in the whole countryside. The object of 
 our meeting is to form an association, whose aim 
 — ^yes, an association which will set about — ^let 
 
 me see — just so ^An association which will 
 
 act in opposition to the imperial government, 
 and which wiU seize the first opportunity of 
 overthrowing it. 
 
198 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Edouabd. It will take a good hard shove to 
 overthrow this government. 
 
 The Countess. Rest assured, we have most 
 powerful men at our disposal. I'll explain that 
 to you more fully during the visit which you are 
 going to make us. Our business to-day is simply 
 to form, to institute our secret society. 
 
 Edguahd. Oh, say " our conspiracy," the 
 word has a good sound. 
 
 The Countess. Certain formalities will have 
 to be gone through with, which you must see 
 
 Edouard. All that I will need to know is that 
 you are going to be there and I am sure to en- 
 joy it. 
 
 The Countess. You have given me your 
 word, Edouard — I am counting on you. Come 
 give me your hand. Edouard, Edouard, do stop 
 — this is all very serious. You swear, do you, to 
 be faithful to our glorious cause? 
 
 Edouaed. Yes, I swear. 
 
 The Countess. Well said, good fellow that 
 you are. Repeat with me the cry with which 
 your ancestors used to march to victory, " Vive le 
 roi." 
 
 Edouaed. Vive le roil 
 
 The Countess {clapping her hands). He is 
 one of us ! he is one of us ! he is one of us I 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 199 
 
 Scene VI 
 EdoxjabDj the Countess^ the Count. 
 
 The Countess. Come, M. des Tournelles; 
 come and embrace a new defender of the good 
 cause. 
 
 Edouaed {aside). Her husband I The deuce 
 take him. 
 
 The Count {hissing him,). I am delighted 
 I am sure. {Whispers to the Countess) How 
 the deuce did you manage it? 
 
 Edouabd. Oh, by the way, Cousin Melanie. 
 You have not kissed the new defender of the 
 good cause. You allow me, Cousin des Tour- 
 neUes? {He kisses the Countess.) 
 
 The Countess {in a whisper to Edouard). 
 Edouard, this is not right at all. You are very, 
 very naughty. 
 
 Scene VII 
 
 The same, Francois^ the Babon de Machi- 
 coulis^ the Chevaliee de Thimbeay. 
 
 rEAN90is (announces). M. le Baron de 
 Machicoulis, le Chevalier de Thimbray. 
 
 Baeon de Machicoulis. Fair Lady, here 
 are two faithful knights who have come to 
 swear allegiance at your feet. {Noticing Ed- 
 
200 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 OUAKD, in a whisper) A soldier? Who is the 
 young man? 
 
 The Countess. Baron de Machicoulis, I am 
 delighted to see you looking so well. How do 
 you do, Chevalier? how is Madame de Thimbray? 
 Gentlemen, allow me to present my cousin the 
 Marquis Edouard de Nangis, who is one of us. 
 You wiU find in him all the courage of his an- 
 cestors, as well as their devotion to their rightful 
 kings. Edouard, the Baron de Machicoulis, the 
 Chevalier de Thimbray. 
 
 Edouabd {aside). What a collection! They 
 should really be put in show-cases. 
 
 Babon de Machicoulis. I should have 
 known your cousin to be a Nangis from his great 
 resemblance to the late Marquis de Nangis, his 
 father, whom I knew very well when he was liv- 
 ing. We served together once. 
 
 Edouabd. Ah, you served. {In a whisper to 
 the Countess) Whom did he serve? 
 
 Baeon de Machicoulis. We were together 
 at the siege of Gibraltar. We had it rather hot 
 there, I tell you. 
 
 Edouaed. I should say so. In Spain and 
 Andalusia. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis {in a whisper to 
 the Count) . Is this young man to be relied up- 
 on? His manners smack of the regiment. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 201 
 
 The Count. My wife says that she answers 
 for him. 
 
 Edouakd {in a whisper to the Countess). 
 How would you like me to cut off his queue to 
 make you a bell cord? 
 
 The Countess {in a whisper). Edouakd^ 
 you simply have me on tenter hooks. 
 
 CHEVAI.IER DE Thimbray. The others are 
 late, if my watch is right. 
 
 The Count. Fierdonjon told me only yes- 
 terday that he would be the first one here. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis {to Edouard). 
 Monsieur le Marquis. 
 
 Edouard. My name is Monsieur de Nangis 
 or Lieutenant, whichever you please. But no 
 Marquis for me if you please! 
 
 The Countess. My cousin is really so very 
 modest. {In a whisper) He has rather pecuhar 
 ideas about certain things. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. Monsieur de Nan- 
 gis. Then you have just come from the army, I 
 suppose? 
 
 Edouard. Only to-day. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. From Germany? 
 
 Edouard. From Germany. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. You probably saw 
 the engagement at Wagram? 
 
 Edouard. A little. 
 
202 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 The Countess, His horse was killed under 
 him and he himself was wounded. Poor boy! 
 What a terrible war it is. 
 
 Baeon de Machicoulis. I am astonished 
 that Prince Charles allowed himself to be beaten 
 and he is nevertheless the best tactician in Eu- 
 rope. In the matter of strategy, however, all 
 agree, do they not, in giving the palm to Field 
 Marshal Kalkreuth? 
 
 Edouakd. I have never heard of the duffer. 
 
 Babon de Machicoulis. And, — sir, may I 
 venture to ask in what state you left the army? 
 They say it is pervaded by a strong feeling of 
 discontent. 
 
 Edouard. Yes, the common soldier is dis- 
 satisfied with the soldier's bread and beans; he 
 would like the finest white bread and chicken. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. I have been told 
 that the oflicers of the army 
 
 Edouard. Look here, sir, I was ill, wounded. 
 I was three months in the hospital before coming 
 here, — {In a whisper to the Cov!>sijiss) Do de- 
 liver me from this fellow, with his mania for 
 asking questions, or I'll insult him before every- 
 one. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 203 
 
 Scene VIII 
 FeancoiSj the Count de Fierdonjon^ the Mae- 
 
 QUIS DE MaLESPINE. 
 
 rRAN90is (announces). The Count de Fier- 
 donjon, the Marquis de Malespine. {He goes 
 out.) 
 
 Edouard (in a whisper to the Countess). 
 Where in the dickens did you hunt up all these 
 characters? There is some joke about it. Not 
 one of them looks the least in the world like a 
 conspirator. They have the kind of faces that 
 would do to decorate screens. Just let me start 
 them going. 
 
 The Countess {in a whisper to Edouaed). 
 Edouard, you are driving me to desperation. 
 {Aloud) Monsieur de Fierdonjon, I am charmed 
 to see you. {In a whisper to Edouard) If you 
 keep this up — {Aloud) How do you do, Mon- 
 sieur de Malespine? {In a whisper to Edouard) 
 We are going to quarrel over this. These are all 
 friends of mine. Promise me that you won't 
 play any tricks. You are not going to, are you? 
 — as you love me? (Aloud) Gentlemen, allow 
 me to introduce you to my cousin. 
 
 Edouard. I will be good, since you forbid 
 me to play any jokes. 
 
204 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 The Count. Bertrand is the only one miss- 
 ing now. 
 
 Chetaliee de Thimbeay. It is most extra- 
 ordinary that he is not here yet. The fellow 
 is keeping us waiting. 
 
 The Maequis de Malespine. If only he 
 doesn't break his word. 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. Des Tournelles, 
 do you know I think that you have dis- 
 played a decided lack of prudence in allowing 
 this man to take part in our undertaking. Who 
 can tell if he is to be rehed upon? He is a 
 peasant, plain and simple. 
 
 The Countess. He was major in the Royal 
 Army. 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. In the army of La 
 Vendee, being short of gentlemen for officers, 
 they were obliged to take clod-hoppers. That 
 man does not appeal to me in the least. He 
 shoots over my grounds without asking my per- 
 mission and I can't get my keepers to testify 
 against him. 
 
 The Count. Oh! that's an old habit of his. 
 Monsieur de Kermorgant, from whom you 
 bought the estate, upon your return from the 
 emigration, used to allow him to shoot. 
 
 Chevaliee de Thimbeay. That was a good 
 stroke of business that you did, Monsieur 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 205 
 
 de Fierdonjon. Oh! If I had only had the ready 
 money in those days, I too would have bought 
 some of the national property. It went for a 
 mere song. Not that I in the least approve of 
 those infamous spohations, but when the mis- 
 chief is done, let us try to see to it, that our 
 enemies are not the ones to profit by it. 
 
 The Countess. Bertrand has a great deal 
 of influence among the peasants. If there were 
 need of a helping hand, he would be invaluable. 
 Besides he has the highest testimonials from his 
 superior officers. 
 
 Babon de Machicoulis. You would really 
 think that the police were afraid of him, and 
 that they did not dare to demand him to show 
 his permit to carry arms. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. Come, gentlemen, 
 this is really not seemly that we should wait upon 
 this man. Let us begin. 
 
 The Countess. Why, here he is. 
 
 Scene IX 
 
 The same, Bertband. {He is carrying a double- 
 barrelled gun and is followed by a big dog.) 
 
 The Countess. How do you do. Monsieur 
 Bertrand? Comrade Sans-Peur, as Monsieur de 
 
206 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Bonchamps used to call you. You have kept 
 us waiting. 
 
 Beeteand. Excuse me, Countess; the fact 
 of the matter is that I happened upon a covey 
 of partridges and they did give me a chase. 
 However, here are two of them, and if you would 
 accept them, they would be very nice in a salmi. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon (aside) . I'll wager 
 he killed them on my grounds. 
 
 The Countess. Thank you, I'll accept them 
 with very great pleasure. 
 
 Edouard {to Beetrand). That's a fine dog 
 you have there. He is good for all sorts of game. 
 
 Bertrand. Yes, sir, and more than that, if 
 need be, he would spring at a man's throat, if 
 I told him to do it. He has been of use to me 
 upon occasions. 
 
 Edouard. You had better sell him to me. 
 
 Bertrand. Excuse me, sir, but my dog is 
 not for sale. You are not for sale, are you, 
 Medor? Good old fellow! 
 
 The Count. Come, gentlemen, let us lose 
 no time. Let us be seated. 
 
 The Countess (before sitting down). Ed- 
 ouard, you are to sit beside me. Gentlemen, it 
 gives me great pleasure to believe that you will 
 allow me to be present at your deliberations. I 
 am only a woman, it is true, but I feel that my 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 207 
 
 courage is sufficient to permit me to brave the 
 dangers that you will face. Moreover, it is not 
 the first time a woman has been known to take 
 part in a conspiracy. If I remember my old 
 Plutarch aright the famous Loeena shared the 
 glory of Harmodius and of Aristogiton. She 
 cut out her tongue rather than reveal the names 
 of her friends. 
 
 Chevalier de Thimbeay. My wife should 
 do the same. 
 
 Baeon de Machicoulis. Madame, we do 
 not wish you to share the fate of Loeena — it 
 would be too great a loss for us. But, we do not 
 for a moment doubt that you would have as 
 great courage and as great love for your rightful 
 king. 
 
 The Countess. Without wishing to boast, I 
 yet may say that I feel sure enough of myself, 
 to affirm that the sight of death itself could not 
 affright me. What would one not brave for 
 so noble a cause? {She starts to sit down, then 
 with a piercing scream) Ah! 
 
 Edouaed. What's the matter? 
 
 The Count {frightened). What is it? You 
 didn't see anyone under the table, did you? 
 
 The Countess. A spider on my chair. 
 {They all laugh.) 
 
 Bertrand {crushing the spider). Bad luck 
 
208 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 to see a spider in the morning. Good luck if you 
 see it in the evening. It is past noon. 
 
 Babon de Machicoulis. Smell this bottle, 
 Countess. I understand your fright. It is a 
 nervous affection, simply. I have more than 
 once faced danger, and yet the mere sight of a 
 mouse is too much for me. 
 
 Mabquis de Malespine. My bete noire is 
 toads. But they are poisonous. 
 
 Chevaliee de Thimbray. They say that 
 Ladislas, King of Poland, used to run away 
 whenever he saw apples. 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. I have heard it said 
 that 
 
 Edouard. But, I say, are we conspiring, or 
 are we not? 
 
 The Count. My cousin is right. Gentle- 
 men, in order to conduct our meetings in regular 
 form, and especially to give them the air of 
 gravity, which they should have, it seems to me 
 it would be business-like to elect a president; 
 and if no one else offers himself, I will volun- 
 teer to fill the office. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. But, Count, this is 
 an irregular proceeding. As a president is a per- 
 son who exercises considerable influence in this 
 whole gathering, this same president should be 
 elected by this same gathering, so that he may 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 209 
 
 properly represent the real feeling of the assem- 
 bly, so that he may be, so to speak, the expres- 
 sion of the sentiments of the gathering. 
 
 Chevalier de Thimbray. Certainly we 
 must put it to a vote. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. But why should we 
 put it to a vote? I would call your attention to 
 the fact, gentlemen, that in all gatherings of our 
 ancestors, of the nobility of this province, the 
 Counts of Fierdonjon always occupied the presi- 
 dent's chair. Now, since it is our aim to re- 
 establish former customs, it seems to me 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. Sir, I take the lib- 
 erty of calling into question the accuracy of your 
 statement. I possess amongst my papers an 
 authentic document according to which, at the 
 time of the birth of the great dauphin, a gath- 
 ering of the nobility of this province was held 
 in order to inaugurate fireworks and a ball to 
 celebrate this happy event. And it was Pierre- 
 Ponce de Machicoulis who was called upon by 
 this assembly to preside over it and take complete 
 charge of affairs. 
 
 The Count. And what about the Des Tour- 
 neUes, gentlemen? You seem to be forgetting 
 them. I don't think that any of you can for a 
 moment contest the antiquity of our title. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. A thousand pardons. 
 
210 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Count, but in the archives of the province 
 I find your name only some eighty-five years 
 after mine. 
 
 The Count. My genealogy is to be relied 
 upon that 
 
 Maequis de Mam;spine. In 1452 the Male- 
 spine 
 
 The Countess. Gentlemen, the proposal 
 which Monsieur de Thimbray has just made will 
 spare us an unpleasant discussion. Let us put 
 it to a vote. Let each one write a name upon 
 a slip of paper and deposit it in this urn. 
 
 Count de Fieedgnjon. At any rate, I have 
 not the least faith in genealogies; it is easy 
 enough to manufacture them. Archives on the 
 other hand are different; you can depend upon 
 them. 
 
 Bakon de Machicoulis. And monuments. 
 You aU laiow the carved stone 
 
 The Count. What! A genealogy written 
 on deer skin with gothic letters ! 
 
 Marquis de Mauespine. Pepin the Little 
 bestowed — {They all speak at once. Edouaed 
 rings the hell wildly.) 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 211 
 
 Scene X 
 
 The same, FKAN901S enters. 
 
 The Count. What does this idiot want in 
 here? 
 
 rKAN90is. Did Madame ring? 
 
 The Countess. No, you may go out again. 
 
 Fean^ois. Then someone rang at the front 
 door. I am going to see. 
 
 The Count. No, you idiot. No one has heen 
 ringing; go away and leave us. (Fean^ois goes 
 out.) 
 
 Scene XI 
 
 The same, except FEAN901S. 
 
 The Countess. Let us give over this dis- 
 cussion, I beg you. Whatever choice we may 
 make can not fail to be an excellent one. Here is 
 paper, gentlemen. You can write the name of 
 your candidate. 
 
 Chevaliee de Thimbeay. We should ap- 
 point some one to read the ballots who does 
 not know our writing. 
 
 Baeon de Machicoulis. A good thought. 
 
212 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Monsieur de Nangis, will you be so good as to 
 take charge of the matter? 
 
 Edouard. Very gladly. {Aside) Amiable 
 confidence in one another. 
 
 The Countess (foBEKTRAND). Come nearer, 
 Bertrand. Why do you stay at one side? Write 
 your ballot. 
 
 Bertrand. You are very kind, indeed. 
 
 The Countess. Write a name {in a whis- 
 per) — ^my husband's name. 
 
 Bertrand. Ah I Madame, the fact is, I can't 
 write. I am a poor peasant. I don't understand 
 all these ceremonies in the very least. {All ex- 
 cept Bertrand deposit their ballots in the urn.) 
 
 Edouard. Is that aU? Let us see. Mon- 
 sieur de Machicoulis, one vote. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. Sir, I beg that you 
 will burn the ballot at once. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon {in a whisper to the 
 Marquis de Malespine). I'll wager he wrote 
 his own name. 
 
 Edouard. Monsieur de Fierdonjon, one 
 vote. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis {in a whisper to the 
 Marquis de Malespine) . What will you wager 
 that he voted for himself? 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon {to Edouard). 
 Bum it, if you please, sir. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 213 
 
 Edouard. M. des Tournelles, one vote. 
 Madame des Tournelles, one vote. M. de Thim- 
 bray, one vote. {The deuce.) This is very- 
 queer. Each person has received a single 
 vote. 
 
 The Countess. Someone has voted for me. 
 He has made a mistake; he doubtless intended it 
 for my husband. 
 
 Edouard. Not at aU; for I cast that vote, 
 and I wished to elect you president. 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. But that is an ab- 
 surd idea. A woman could not sit as our presi- 
 dent. 
 
 Edouaed. I understand you to say it is an ab- 
 surd idea? The expression strikes me as being 
 so extraordinary, that I shall ask you to repeat it. 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. I was saying, sir, 
 that it was not customary to call upon a woman 
 to occupy a president's chair. 
 
 Edouaed. I make it a practice, sir, never to 
 let pass an impertinence, — and 
 
 The Countess {in a whisper) . Edouard, Ed- 
 ouard. {Aloud) Quick, quick, let us have a 
 second ballot. {In a whisper) Edouard, vote for 
 my husband. M. de Thimbray, do vote for my 
 husband; he will make an excellent president. 
 Come, Sans-Pevir, you must vote, too, my good 
 fellow. I will write for you. Monsieur de 
 
214 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Tournelles is the one you will wish to vote for. 
 {In a whisper) Isn't he? 
 
 Bektrand. Anything you wish, Madame. 
 
 Edouakd {counting the ballot). Monsieur 
 des Tournelles, one vote. Monsieur de Fierdon- 
 jon. Monsieur des Tournelles, Monsieur des 
 Tournelles, Monsieur de Malespine, Monsieur 
 de Machicoulis, Monsieur des Tournelles. Mon- 
 sieur des Tournelles has four votes. Come, sir, 
 take your place in the President's chair. 
 
 CoxiNrT DE FiERDONjoN {in a whisper to the 
 Makquis de Mauespine). They have begun to 
 cabal already. Oh! I can never stay with this 
 pack. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis {in a whisper to 
 the Marquis de Malespine) . She wants to run 
 everything. 
 
 The Count. Gentlemen, before proceeding 
 to the business of this meeting, I shall ask your 
 permission to bring before you some general 
 consideration upon the present state of affairs 
 in Europe. I think that I am not wrong in be- 
 lieving that they will not be altogether devoid 
 of interest. {He draws from his pocket a rather 
 large number of Utile sheets of note paper. 
 These sheets are not fastened together.) 
 
 Edouard. What! You are going to read 
 all that to us? The deuce! 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 215 
 
 Count. It is written on one side and with 
 a wide margin. 
 
 CoxjNT DE FiEEDONJON (oside) . He got 
 himself elected President so that he could hold 
 the floor all the time. 
 
 Count des Tournelles {coughs ^ clears his 
 throaty puts on his spectacles, and reads the pages 
 in a monotonous voice, and without paying any 
 particular attention to the punctuation, as one 
 would do in reading the work of another. Ed- 
 ouAED in the meantime whispers in the ear of the 
 Countess, and she motions to him to listen. He 
 pays no attention and thereupon she loses pa- 
 tience and turns her back upon him. Next he calls 
 Bertrand's dog, pets it, makes it give its paw, etc. 
 Then while the Count holds in his hand one of 
 the loose sheets of his speech, Edouard takes two 
 or three from the table without his noticing it, 
 crumples them up into a ball, gives them to the 
 dog, who tears them to pieces.. No one notices 
 this manoeuvre. The Count {Reads) " The 
 ways of Providence are divine in their inscruta- 
 hihty. There is no evil in nature that has not its 
 antidote. What poison is there, no matter how 
 terrible in its violence, which can not be success- 
 fully combatted by the remedies which the kind 
 hand of Providence offers us? And by a fore- 
 thought, for which we can not be too grateful, we 
 
216 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 see these remedies in greatest profusion in those 
 climes where man seems to be exposed to the 
 greatest dangers. Travellers who have pene- 
 trated into the depths of those countries which 
 are always parched by a blazing sun, tell us of 
 those terrible serpents whose slightest bite seems 
 to be followed by inevitable death. Ah ! let them 
 not forget to tell us that these same serpents 
 usually take refuge under the broad leaves of 
 those very plants whose saps when applied to the 
 wounds revives the unfortunate victim and soon 
 restores him to health. The manchineel-tree, 
 whose mere shadow breathes death, grows only, 
 by divine Providence, near the ocean waves ; and 
 sea-water, as we all know, is a certain antidote of 
 the poison which it exhales. So, Gentlemen, when 
 we see a people torn by baneful dissensions, or 
 groaning under the iron rod of an oppressor, do 
 not let us give ourselves up to fruitless despair, 
 but let us look about us for the remedy or 
 medicine which Providence doubtless holds in 
 reserve.'" 
 
 Chevalier de Thimbkay (aside) . That all 
 smacks too much of pharmacy. 
 
 " Yes, Gentlemen, the study of history, 
 which is too often merely an amusement for 
 the man of the world, would become, by the 
 crimes of which it draws the hideous picture. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 217 
 
 a subject of disgust and of horror for the 
 humanitarian philosopher, did not the consoling 
 thought that a hidden Providence presides over 
 the destiny of empires come to support the book 
 about to fall from his hand, and show him that 
 if, too often, some men forgetting divine pre- 
 cepts, and giving themselves up a prey to their 
 unbridled passions, open up for their fellow-citi- 
 zens and for themselves an abyss of ills, often 
 too, and as if, so to speak, by an enforced 
 sequence other men, the virtuous, inspired by 
 Heaven, use their courage as a protecting dike 
 against the devastating torrent of revolutions, 
 and close up by their powerful hands the mael- 
 strom which is about to swallow up their coun- 
 tryl ! ! {Aside) Ouf ! {Reading) A man was 
 found — infirm — ^mutilated, condemned to spend 
 in suffering " 
 
 The Countess {prompting him). No; a 
 Christain orator once said 
 
 The Count. Quite right — " A man was 
 found — " Excuse me. Gentlemen, a paper must 
 have been misplaced — Well now, I can't find 
 it. Can it have been mislaid? Still, my dearest, 
 when you copied the manuscript for me, noth- 
 ing was missing. Ahl Isn't this it? "A man 
 
 was found," said the usurper ^no. I don't 
 
 know what has become of it. 
 
218 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Chevalier de Thimbray. A man was 
 found, but a paper was lost. 
 
 The Countess. My dear, have you not the 
 rough copy? 
 
 The Count. No, I burned it. But really I 
 can not understand this. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. While M. des 
 Tournelles is looking for his speech, will you, in 
 order that we lose no time, listen to a few brief 
 reflections, which have been suggested to me by 
 recent political events? 
 
 Marquis de Malespine (at the same time) . 
 I have prepared a short paper, and if you wiU 
 have the goodness to give me your attention for 
 half an hour 
 
 {The Count de Fierdonjon draws out his 
 portfolio^ and Chevalier de Thimbly searches 
 his pockets.) 
 
 Edouard. Heaven be merciful! Each one 
 has his address prepared. Cousin Melanie, we 
 are lost; we shall never get a chance to dine. 
 And you. Monsieur Bertrand, haven't you your 
 speech by any chance? 
 
 Bertrand. No, sir; still if I dared I would 
 say a word or two ; but I'm afraid of putting my 
 foot in it ; for I am only a plain peasant. 
 
 Edouard. A speech, a speech! I know that 
 what you say wiU be good fun. Silence, Gen- 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 219 
 
 tlemen, silence! Listen to Monsieur Bertrand. 
 {He raps on the table.) 
 
 Bertrand. What I wished to say is very- 
 simple. I wished to say, that saving your pres- 
 ence, we are playing like children. Let us leave 
 sermons to the priests. We don't need so many 
 fine speeches to agree upon our course of action. 
 When I was with Jean de Chouan he never had a 
 good deal to say to us. He would say, " How 
 would it be if we surprised the Blues at the 
 Herbages Farm? " We would say, " Yes." He 
 would say, " Have you cartridges? Have you 
 fresh flint in your gims? " We would say, 
 " Yes." He would say, " Let us drink a glass, 
 forward march, vive le roi!" We would clink 
 glasses, and march off. 
 
 Edguard. Bravo! Morbleu, Monsieur Ber- 
 trand is the one to carry off the prize for 
 oratory. 
 
 Bertrand. When I came here I had no idea 
 that you needed all these grand speeches to stir 
 you up to do what is right. I merely thought 
 that you were going to set things in motion. I 
 thought, for instance, that I might be told, " Sans 
 Peur, you are to surprise the station of gen- 
 darmes at X ." " You, M. de Machicovdis, 
 
 saving your presence, you are to try to lay hands 
 on the Prefect " — just like that, with no more 
 
220 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 ceremony. I had brought cartridges and I had 
 filled my powder-flask. 
 
 Bakon de Machicoulis. The deuce! How 
 he slashes into things. 
 
 The Count. I thank Heaven we have not 
 yet come to that. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. My friend, you are 
 not with Jean de Chouan's men now; you are 
 with educated gentlemen, which is very difi^erent. 
 Listen in silence and respect to what you can 
 not understand. 
 
 Bektrand. I am quite willing, but 
 
 Maequis de Maxespine. We are not asking 
 your opinion. 
 
 The Countess. Gentlemen, what do you 
 think of leaving your addresses for another oc- 
 casion? Just now we have so many things to 
 regulate. You have just elected your President, 
 but we have many important points to decide 
 upon. For instance, what is to be the name of 
 your society? We must have a name by which 
 to be called when History speaks of us. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. Well, History will 
 say, " The Count de Fierdonjon, M. des Tour- 
 nelles " 
 
 The Count. My wife means it would be 
 well if all persons who co-operate in this society 
 bore a generic, a collective name. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 221 
 
 Edouakd. Ah! a collective name; that makes 
 me think of my Latin, Turba ruit or ruunt. 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. Very well, and why 
 not call ourselves " The real gentlemen " ? 
 
 Edouaed. No; we should have a name that 
 sounds well, like those in a melodrama, " The 
 ■Knights of the Swan," "The Free Judges." 
 Why should we not call oin-selves "The 
 [Knights of Death " ? It is imposing and har- 
 monious. 
 
 Chevalier de Thimbeay. Why not? As 
 a matter of fact it is rather an imposing 
 name. 
 
 The Count. Ohl It is a little too terrihle; 
 I should prefer 
 
 The Countess. Let us rather choose a name 
 that reminds us of the object of our conspiracy. 
 " The Friends of Misfortune." Does that name 
 meet with your approval? Do you not indeed 
 espouse the cause of misfortune? This name 
 will gather around us all noble hearts. 
 
 Edouard. Gtood suggestion — carried! 
 
 Beetrand. " The Friends of Misfortune." 
 So when we cry " Qui Vive," and they don't an- 
 swer " Friends of Misfortune" — I give them a 
 shot? 
 
 Edouard. Father Bertrand hits right out. 
 You have seen something of soldiering, eh? 
 
222 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 Bertrand. Why, sir, for years I did noth- 
 ing else. 
 
 The Countess. Bertrand fought in the war 
 of la Vendee. He was major in the royal 
 army. 
 
 Edouakd. Yes, yes, the war of the Chouans 
 — war of skirmishes — ^behind hedges, shots at 
 laggards. Peste! a pretty war that — ^men had 
 long lives in those days. 
 
 Bertrand. That depended. There are lots 
 of young men, and of old men too, who would 
 have been strong and well to-day if they had not 
 been kiUed in that pretty war. There are some 
 men who are astonished to see their corn growing 
 so high in some places that I know — it is thanks 
 to the men who are buried there. I, with my 
 own eyes, sir, have seen more than one engage- 
 ment in which those who escaped owed a thump- 
 ing big candle to the Holy Virgin. One day on 
 the downs of Gros-Sablon there were two hun- 
 dred of us who met an equal number of Blues. 
 We defeated them — but in the evening there 
 were only forty-five of us at rations. 
 
 Edouard. No doubt. It must have been 
 hotly contested. How many of the vanquished 
 were there left? 
 
 Bertrand. Not one. 
 
 Edouard. Of a truth, that wasn't bad. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 223 
 
 The Count. If these gentlemen begin talk- 
 ing war, we shall never get anywhere. 
 
 The Countess. The Friends of Misfortune 
 must wear some emblem by means of which they 
 may be recognised. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. By the police? 
 The dickens, no! 
 
 The Countess. I mean a hidden emblem. 
 For instance, each one of us, of you gentlemen,, 
 would wear a dagger of a certain design. 
 
 Edouabd. Yes, yes, a dagger! To begini 
 with, there can be no conspiracy without dag- 
 gers. The dagger of vengeance — the mysterious, 
 steel — Have you seen the melodrama of the 
 " Free Judges " ? 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. Yes, a dagger. I 
 don't see anything out of the way about that,, 
 and then it might be useful. 
 
 Bertrand. It's a good weapon, all the same,, 
 without seeming so. You have to give a down 
 stroke {making a gesture as if striking). Ex- 
 cuse me, sir, like that — so that the blood won't 
 flow, and will smother you in no time. 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. Horrors! We- 
 don't wish to assassinate anyone — ^we don't neetJ 
 your lessons. 
 
 Bertrand. Then why? 
 
 Chevalier de Thimbray. It is a mark of 
 
224 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 distinction, but French gentlemen do no use 
 such weapons. 
 
 The Count. There is a police regulation 
 forbidding it. It would be dangerous. 
 
 Berteand. Still, Lescure, Charette, la 
 Roche jaquelin, aU those gentlemen had them in 
 their day, and anyone who would have dared to 
 lay a hand on them would have found out that 
 they knew how to use them. 
 
 The Countess {aside). This man's talk 
 really makes me shudder. {Aloud) The handle 
 sof the daggers should be white — our colour — and 
 of ivory, or mother of pearl, inlaid with silver. 
 I shaU prepare a design and on the blade we 
 shall have the word " Fidelity " engraved in 
 Latin. That would be in good taste, don't you 
 think so? 
 
 Edouabd. My word I Hurray for my cousin 
 a,nd conspiracies. She is splendid at them. 
 Don't worry about your daggers, my dear col- 
 leagues; I am going to Spain; that is where they 
 make the very finest thing to be had in the way 
 of daggers. Even the women keep them hidden 
 in their bodices or garters. An officer of the 
 Dragoons who has just come back from there 
 has been telling me all about it. Really, now, no 
 joke, you have to be careful about them; they 
 are treacherous as the devil. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 225 
 
 Chevalier de Thimbeay. Your friend, 
 sir, must have visited those regions, since he has 
 made there all these fine discoveries. 
 
 Bertrand. Bah! Keep your ivory and pearl 
 daggers. They are all very fine for show; but 
 if it be blood of a Blue that you want to let, give 
 me a good strong weapon like this {he draws 
 out a great knife). It is rough-looking, but it 
 is not dear. One day I stumbled over a stone 
 and fell flat. An ofiicer of the Blues put his 
 knee on my stomach, and raising his sabre, called 
 upon me to surrender. I said to him that Jean de 
 Chouan used to say, " Not much danger of it " ! 
 and I planted my dagger in his mouth. And 
 sure as I am speaking he swallowed it, as if it 
 were a spoonful of soup. Lookl you can still see 
 the dents of his teeth on the blade. 
 
 The Countess. Oh, do take away this hor- 
 rid dagger. I fancy that I see it still dripping 
 with blood. 
 
 The Count. Enough of that, my good fel- 
 low. That is not the matter of interest. Let us 
 settle down to business. 
 
 Bertrand. Well, then, when shall we sound 
 the tocsin? 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. The tocsin! Of 
 what are you thinking ? And with the gendarmes 
 and the mihtary station at 
 
226 THE COXSPIRATORS 
 
 !Maeqtjis de Mat.espixe. And the Prefect, 
 who would send us all to prison. 
 
 Chetaijee de Thembeay. The fellow is 
 possessed. 
 
 Count de Fieedoxjon. The fruit is not yet 
 ripe, my good man. 
 
 Beetrand. You would not dare to pick it, 
 even if it were rotten. 
 
 The Count. Now that oiu* society is some- 
 what organised, what shall be our first under- 
 taking? {Profound silence.) 
 
 Baeon de Machicoxilis. Out best plan 
 would be to quietly exert our influence upon the 
 minds of those aroimd us to ahenate them from 
 the usurper. If we could only find some way 
 of secretly printing some brief considerations 
 upon 
 
 INIaequis de Mat.espine. 3Iy address might 
 be printed at the same time. 
 
 The Count. And mine, too, when I find it. 
 I can't beMeve that it is lost. 
 
 Chevaliee de Thimbray. The trouble 
 would be to find a printer who would be per- 
 fectly rehable. 
 
 INIaequis de Malespine. If worst came to 
 worst, we could circulate manuscript copies. 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. Yes, but pr«ople 
 know our writing. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 227 
 
 Maeqtjis de Malespine. If the Countess 
 were willing to take the trouble. A woman's 
 writing would never be under suspicion. 
 
 The Count. Don't for a moment think of 
 it. Everyone knows my wife's writing. 
 
 CHEVAiiiER DE Thimbeay. Another trouble 
 is that few of the people hereabout can read, 
 (Silence.) 
 
 Beeteand. Well, you listen for a minute. 
 I see that things are going badly, and that 
 amongst us are very few who are willing to risk 
 their necks for the good cause. An idea occurs 
 to me. When I say that it occurs to me, I mean 
 that it occurs to me again, for I have very often 
 thought of it. I am nothing but a poor peasant, 
 I am growing old, and I am no longer of much 
 use — nevertheless 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. Nevertheless, you 
 are still very well able to kill partridge wherever 
 you find them. 
 
 Beeteand. I don't deny I still am a good 
 enough shot. Now then, I was thinking: we 
 must do something. What keeps our king from 
 coming back is the other who has taken his place. 
 And yet that other is not the devil. His skin is 
 not so tough as an oaken plank, and I have seen 
 chaps who cut through at a single blow an oaken 
 plank two inches thick. 
 
228 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 The Count. What are you driving at? 
 
 Berteand. This is it. I was thinking: I am 
 old, yes, but in spite of that I support my wife 
 and boy. If I die they would be left begging 
 for bread. If you gentlemen would sign an 
 agreement, promising them 1,200 livres after my 
 death, here is what I would promise to do: I 
 will set out for Paris, I will try to see the Em- 
 peror, and if I can get within arm's length of 
 him he is a dead man. If I fail — well, an- 
 other can do what I wished to do. They will 
 shoot me; but I shall have the consolation that 
 at least my wife and boy wiU not lack for 
 bread. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. Morbleu! It would 
 be enough to get us all shot. 
 
 Edouaed. He is simply possessed. Assas- 
 sinate the Emperor! It is worse than a Spanish 
 monk. 
 
 Babon de Machicoulis {in a whisper to 
 Countess des Touknelles) . Do you think this 
 scamp is a spy by any chance? 
 
 Beetrand. The agreement, of course, would 
 be put in safe-keeping. It would not be shown 
 until after my death. 
 
 The Countess. This man frightens me 
 quiet out of my wits. What a terrible desperado 
 he is! 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 229 
 
 The Count; My good fellow, your proposal 
 is certainly most remarkable; we should need to 
 have in you the most complete confidence 
 
 Berteand. Parbleu! you only risk 1,200 
 livres among you aU, and I risk my neck. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. Yes, but my fine 
 fellow, supposing you once got to Paris, 
 and let the police bribe you to tell every- 
 thing? 
 
 Maequis de Malespine. And the promise 
 of a pension would be evidence against 
 us. 
 
 Beeteand. Do you think then that I could 
 be guilty of informing against you? Gentle- 
 men, I am going to let you see the kind of man 
 I am. {He unbuttons his coatj and draws out 
 from a leather bag hung on his breast, a letter 
 which he throws on the table.) Read this paper; 
 you can read, so read it! 
 
 Edouaed. This paper is a bit greasy, but 
 never mind. (Reads) To the Lieutenant-Gen- 
 eral of His Majesty's Armies: I hereby certify 
 to all to whom it may concern, that Joseph Ber- 
 trand, known as Sans-Peur, Major in our army, 
 has always shown himself trusty and brave upon 
 every occasion. Of his courage and devotion not 
 enough can be said. In token of which we have 
 given him this present certificate, hoping that it 
 
230 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 may at some time prove useful to him. ( Signed) 
 Hem-i de la Roche jaquelin. At the General 
 Quarters of S — y, 179 — . 
 
 Beetrand. Who amongst you can show a 
 paper signed by an honest man, who answers for 
 your honour and fidehty? 
 
 The Countess {looking out in the direction 
 of the court-yard). Good Heavens, what do 
 I see? 
 
 The Count. What is it next? A spider? 
 
 Edouaed. a gendarme on horseback is com- 
 ing into the court-yard. 
 
 All {rising). A gendarme! 
 
 The Count. We are discovered. We are 
 undone. 
 
 Bakon de Machicoulis. Des Tour- 
 nelles — Madame — hide us. Help us to escape — 
 you are responsible for us. We are in your 
 house. 
 
 The Countess. What can we do? 
 
 Count de Fieedonjon. At least you will 
 attest that I came here only against my wiU, 
 and absolutely ignorant of what was going to 
 be done. 
 
 Baeon de Machicoulis, Maequis de 
 Malespine, Chevalier de Thimbeay. And 
 I too. 
 
 The Count. Quite on the contrary; you led 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 231 
 
 me astray and dragged me on. Your address 
 proves it. 
 
 All. Oh, our wretched addresses. {They 
 tear them up and throw them into the fire.) 
 
 The Countess. Edouard, don't forsake me! 
 
 Bertrand. No danger of it. There is only 
 one gendarme, you say? 
 
 The Count. I see another at the main door. 
 The house is surrounded. 
 
 All. Surrounded! 
 
 Edouaed. And how do you know this gen- 
 darme has come to arrest you? It is some no- 
 tice 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. Yes, a notice from 
 the Prefect's to arrest us. 
 
 Bertrand. I have a double-barrelled gun. 
 There is no danger, as Jean de Chouan used 
 to say. 
 
 The Countess. Go out of this little door, 
 and get into the garden. Here is the key of the 
 back gate. If only it is not guarded! At least 
 let us swear together that we wiU never betray 
 one another! 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. Quick, give me the 
 key. (He goes out with the Baron de 
 Machicoulis and the Chevalier de Thim- 
 bray.) 
 
 The Countess {to the Count, who tries to 
 
232 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 run away too). Where are you going? Stay- 
 here; you should not go out of the house. 
 
 Edouabd. You get excited for no reason. 
 
 The Countess {to Edouakd). Speak to this 
 soldier. Your epaulettes will command his re- 
 spect. 
 
 Bertrand {examining the charge of his gun, 
 to his dog). Easy, Medor, easy, old boy! 
 
 The CoxjNTESS. Sans-Peur, in Heaven's 
 name, no bloodshed here. I should die. 
 
 Bertbakd {coldly). I shall not shoot until 
 you make sign to me. 
 
 Scene XII 
 
 The same. A Gendarme. 
 
 The Gendarme. Monsieur des Tournelles. 
 This is the place, is it not? A letter from the 
 Prefect. 
 
 Edoxjard. Give it to me. Here it is, Cousin 
 Melanie. 
 
 The Gendarme. Will you sign a receipt, 
 and put down the time? 
 
 The Countess {to the Count). Sign it, 
 my dear. Edouard, give this gentleman a glass 
 of wine, he must be thirsty. No doubt he rode 
 over very quickly. 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 233 
 
 Edouaed {filling a glass for Mm). Here, 
 you haven't wine like this at the canteen. 
 
 The Gendabme. Oh, no, Heutenant. {He 
 drinks) To your health, Madame, to your health. 
 Sir, to the health of you all. Helloa, Father 
 Sans-Peur — and so you are here. Be careful; 
 the brigadier says that if he catches you again 
 shooting without a permit to carry arms he'll 
 clap you into jail. 
 
 Berteand. Not much danger. 
 
 The Count {to the Gendaeme). Here is 
 the receipt. 
 
 The Gendarme. Many thanks for your kind- 
 ness, Madame. {He goes out.) 
 
 Scene XIII 
 The CouNT^ the Countess, Edouaed, Bee- 
 
 TEAND. 
 
 The Count {to the Countess). Open this 
 letter. I dare not read it. 
 
 The Countess {opens the letter and hastily 
 runs through it). Oh, heavens! 
 
 The Count {trembling). Alas! 
 
 The Countess. Can it be possible? You 
 have been named Chamberlain to the Empress. 
 
 The Count. Can it be true? Oh, joy! 
 
234 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 The Countess [coldly). The appointment 
 is made without your having asked for it. 
 (Edouaed bursts out laughing.) 
 
 The Count (in a whisper). What have we 
 been doing, and what guilty aberrations! 
 
 The Countess. Hush! Let us forget this 
 day. Bertrand, my good man, come to see us 
 now and then. Never hesitate to shoot over our 
 grounds, and here, take this to buy a new bon- 
 net for your wife. (She offers him money.) 
 
 Bertkand {refusing it). My wife has no 
 need of a bonnet. 
 
 The Countess. You can count upon our 
 discretion, 
 
 Beeteand [with a scornful smile). I see 
 that you are counting on more. 
 
 The Countess. Yes, my dear Bertrand, I 
 count upon it. You are willing? 
 
 Beeteand. You are quite right. Come to 
 think it all over, on the whole it is better to shoot 
 partridges. Countess, gentlemen, your servant 
 — Medor, come here, sir. {He goes out.) 
 
 Edouaed {calling out at the window). Hal- 
 loa there, gentlemen, where are you? Good 
 news; it was a false alarm! . . . Comeback. 
 Ha! ha! ha! There's someone who has fallen 
 into the pond — he is covered with mud — Come 
 back, come back — Cousin Melanie, you wiU 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 235 
 
 use your influence for me at court. You will 
 tell the Emperor of the love and respect for him 
 which I have expressed. 
 
 The Countess. Edouard! 
 
 The Count. What can we say to them? 
 
 The Countess. Just leave it to me. 
 
 Scene XIV 
 
 The CouNT^ the Countess, Edouaed, the Baron 
 DE Machicoulis, the Count de Fierdon- 
 JON, the Marquis de Mauespine. the 
 Chevalier de Thimbray. {The Count de 
 FiERDONjON is all wet and covered with 
 mud.) 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. Ah, curse the house ! 
 I shall be crippled for the rest of my days ! You 
 say that there is no danger? 
 
 The Countess {to the Count de Fierdon- 
 jon) . What is the trouble, Count? 
 
 Baron de Machicoulis. He was running 
 and fell into the pond. The key which he 
 was holding in his hand is at the bottom of the 
 water. But for that we should have been in the 
 open country. But did the gendarme arrest 
 Bertrand, since we don't see him here? 
 
 The Countess. No, but we have just re- 
 
236 THE CONSPIRATORS 
 
 ceived news, which to us is very sad. It has 
 quite upset our plans. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon. Is that all? 
 
 The Countess. An unlooked-for blow has 
 fallen upon us ; we must leave at once for Paris. 
 My husband has just been appointed Cham- 
 berlain to the Empress; and as, if he refused, 
 he would compromise himself, as well as his 
 friends 
 
 Edouaed. He is going to accept, he is going 
 to sacrifice himself. You can see how he is quite 
 overcome, my poor old cousin. 
 
 Count de Fierdonjon (aside). Chamber- 
 lain to the Empress. It is a good appoint- 
 ment. (Aloud) Could you let me have a change 
 of clothing ? ( He goes out. ) 
 
 Babon de Machicoulis. I see that there is 
 nothing more for me to do here. 
 
 The Countess (taking leave of him) . Good- 
 bye, Baron; we must hold ourselves in reserve 
 for happier times. 
 
 Chevalier de Thimbray (to the Count). 
 By the way, my son is going to enlist soon. He 
 is studying at Paris, and is a fine fellow. Do 
 
 you not think that with your influence (He 
 
 talks to him in an undertone.) 
 
 Marquis de Malespine. Since you are 
 going to Paris, may I hope that you will be so 
 
THE CONSPIRATORS 237 
 
 kind as to speak a word in my favour, to 
 the Judge, about this confounded lawsuit which 
 ? {He talks to the Count in an under- 
 tone.) 
 
 The Count. You may rest assured, my dear 
 friends, that I will never forget you — and if 
 some day — Alas ! — ^my good friends, good-bye. 
 
 {The Maequis and the Chevalieii go out.) 
 
 Edouaed. Well, Cousin Melanie, when is 
 my conversion to take place? 
 
 The Countess. Now, just let me take charge 
 of things. I intend that inside of two months 
 you are to be Captain in the Guards. {To the 
 Count) My dear, you must leave for Paris to- 
 morrow, and thank His Majesty for this mark 
 of favour. I shall follow close after you, as 
 soon as my court wardrobe is ready. Edouard 
 will take me to Paris. 
 
 Edouaed. Yes, Cousin Melanie, I will take 
 you to Paris. {Aside) Quick-step! 
 
FEDERIGO 
 
FEDERIGO * 
 
 ONCE on a time there was a young 
 nobleman named Federigo. He was 
 handsome, well built, courteous and 
 easy tempered, but of exceedingly dissolute 
 habits, for he was inordinately fond of wine, 
 women and gaming, especially gaming. He 
 never went to confession, and he frequented the 
 churches only to find chances for indulging in 
 sinful pleasures. 
 
 Now Federigo ruined at the gambling-table 
 twelve young men who afterward became 
 brigands and perished imshriven in a fierce battle 
 with the condottieri of the King. And it befell 
 that he himself, in less time than it takes in the 
 telling, lost all that he had won, and in addition 
 his whole patrimony, save a little manor whither 
 he retired to hide his poverty behind the hills 
 of Cava. 
 
 For three years he had been living in seclu- 
 
 * This tale is popular in the kingdom of Naples. Like so manjr 
 other stories coming from the same region, it shows a quaint blend- 
 ing of Greek mythology and Christian beliefs. It seems to have 
 been written toward the close of the Middle Ages. 
 
 241 
 
242 FEDERIGO 
 
 sion, hunting by day and in the evening play- 
 ing his game of hombre with his steward. One 
 evening when he had just come home after the 
 best day's hunting he had had, Jesus Christ, fol- 
 lowed by the twelve apostles, knocked at his 
 door and asked for shelter. Federigo, who was 
 a generous soul, was delighted to see the guests 
 come at a time when he had the wherewithal to 
 feast them well. So he welcomed the pilgrims 
 into his cottage, invited them with all possible 
 cordiality to his board, and begged them to ex- 
 cuse him if he could not offer them what was 
 'befitting them, as they found him at a moment 
 when his larder was exceedingly bare. Our 
 Lord, who knew what to believe concerning the 
 :opportunities of this visit, forgave Federigo this 
 little display of vanity, since he showed himself 
 so hospitably inclined. 
 
 " We shall be well satisfied with what you 
 have," He said to him; "but pray have supper 
 served as speedily as you may: for my friend 
 here is very hungry," he added, pointing out St. 
 Peter. 
 
 Federigo did not wait to be asked a second 
 time, and wishing to offer his guests something 
 besides what he had got in the hunt, he ordered 
 his steward to lay hands on his last kid, which 
 was straightway put on the spit. 
 
FEDERIGO 243 
 
 When supper was ready and the company 
 seated at the table, Federigo had only one regret, 
 which was that his wine was not better. 
 
 " Sire," he said to Jesus Christ, " I wish very 
 much that my wine were better; nevertheless, 
 such as it is, I offer it with sincere hospitahty." 
 
 Whereupon our Lord, having tasted the wine, 
 said to Federigo, " Why do you complain? 
 Your wine is perfect. Just ask my friend here 
 what he thinks about it " (pointing to St. Peter) . 
 
 St. Peter, having quaffed it with relish, de- 
 clared it excellent { propria stupendo) and 
 begged his host to drink with him. 
 
 Federigo, who looked upon all this as mere 
 civilities, nevertheless acceded to the apostle's 
 request; but what was his svu-prise to find that 
 this wine was more delicious than any he had ever 
 tasted in the days of his affluence! Becoming 
 aware, from this miracle, of the presence of the 
 Saviovu", he at once arose from his seat as being 
 imworthy to sit at table with that holy company. 
 But our Lord commanded him to be seated; 
 which order he obeyed without any great pro- 
 test. After the supper, during which they were 
 waited up by the steward and his wife, Jesus 
 retired with the apostles into the room which 
 had been prepared for them. Federigo, being 
 left alone with the steward, played his game of 
 
244 FEDERIGO 
 
 hombre, as usual, and drank what was left of the 
 miraculous wine. 
 
 The next day when the holy travellers were 
 gathered together in the parlour with the master 
 of the house, Jesus Christ said to Federigo: 
 
 " We are greatly pleased with the reception 
 which thou hast accorded us, and we wish to 
 recompense thee. !Ask any three favours and 
 they wiU be granted thee ; for aU power has been 
 given to us in Heaven, and upon earth, and in 
 Hades." 
 
 Then Federigo drew from his pocket a pack 
 of cards which he always carried with him and 
 said: "Master, grant that I may always win 
 when I play with these cards." 
 
 " So be it! " said Jesus Christ. {Ti sia con- 
 cesso. ) 
 
 But St. Peter, who was near Federigo, whis- 
 pered to him, " Of what art thou thinking, mis- 
 erable sinner? Thou shouldst pray the Master 
 for the salvation of thy soul." 
 
 " Oh, I don't worry much about that," an- 
 swered Federigo. 
 
 " Thou hast yet two favours to receive," said 
 Jesus Christ. 
 
 " Master," continued the host, " since Thou 
 art so gracious, grant, I pray you, that whoso- 
 ever climbs into the orange tree that shades my 
 
FEDERIGO 245 
 
 door shall be unable to come down again without 
 my permission." 
 
 " So be it," said Jesus Christ. 
 
 At these words the apostle St. Peter, nudg- 
 ing his neighbour violently, said, " Miserable 
 sinner, dost thou not fear the hell-fire which 
 awaits thy sins? Ask the Master to accord thee 
 a place in Paradise; there is still time. . . ." 
 
 " There is no hurry," replied Federigo draw- 
 ing away from the apostle. And our Lord 
 having said: "What dost thou ask as a third 
 favour? " 
 
 " I beg," he answered, " that whosoever may 
 seat himself upon this bench shall be unable to 
 rise without my permission." 
 
 Our Lord having granted this prayer as well 
 as the other two, departed with his disciples. 
 
 The last apostle was no more than out of the 
 house, when Federigo, wishing to prove the 
 virtue of his cards, called his steward, and played 
 a game of hombre with him without looking at 
 his hand. He won the game in a trice; as well 
 as a second and a third. So being quite con- 
 firmed in his confidence, he set out for town, 
 lodged at the best inn, where he took the finest 
 apartment. The news of his arrival spread very 
 quickly and his old dissolute companions crowded 
 to see him. 
 
246 FEDERIGO 
 
 " We thought that you were lost for good 
 and all," cried Don Giuseppe. " We were as- 
 svu-ed that you had become a hermit." 
 
 " That was quite true," answered Federigo. 
 
 " How the deuce have you been spending 
 your time these last three years that we have not 
 been seeing you? " the others asked all at once. 
 
 " In praying, my dear brethren," answered 
 Federigo in a most pious voice : " here is my 
 prayer-book," he added, drawing from his 
 pocket his pack of cards which he had most care- 
 fully preserved. 
 
 This answer created an outburst of laugh- 
 ing, and everyone was convinced that Federigo 
 had repaired his shattered fortunes in foreign 
 parts at the expense of less skilful players than 
 those with whom he then was, and they were all 
 keen to ruin him a second time. Some wished 
 without any further delay to drag him over to 
 a gambling-table. But Federigo, after begging 
 them to defer the game tmtil evening, invited the 
 company into a room, where according to his 
 orders a dainty repast had been served. It was 
 hailed with enthusiasm, needless to say. 
 
 This dinner was somewhat more lively than 
 the apostles'; it is true nothing was drunk but 
 Malvoisie and Lacryma; but the merry-makers 
 with one exception knew no better wine. 
 
FEDERIGO 247 
 
 Before the arrival of his guests Federigo had 
 provided himself with a pack of cards exactly 
 like the first, in order that he might at will sub- 
 stitute it for the other, and by losing one or 
 two games avoid suspicion on the part of his 
 adversaries. One he carried in his right pocket 
 and the other in his left. 
 
 When the dinner was over and the noble band 
 seated around a baize-covered table Federigo 
 placed the unblessed cards first on the table and 
 limited the stakes to a moderate sum for the 
 whole seance. Wishing then to interest himself 
 in the game and gauge his own ability, he played 
 his best for the two first games, and lost them 
 one after the other, not without a certain amount 
 of inward annoyance. Then he called for wine 
 and taking advantage of the moment when the 
 winners were drinking to their past and future 
 successes, he took away the unblessed cards and 
 replaced them with the pack that had been 
 blessed. When the third game was begun, 
 as Federigo paid no attention to his own hand 
 whatever he had leisure to watch the others — 
 and he found that they were not playing fairly. 
 This discovery delighted him greatly, as he felt 
 that he could with a perfectly clear conscience 
 empty his adversaries' pockets. He had been 
 ruined, he now saw, by their dishonesty, not by 
 
248 FEDERIGO 
 
 their skill in playing, nor their good fortune. 
 He could then have a better opinion of his own 
 relative force, an opinion justified by previous 
 successes. Self-esteem, to what will it not at' 
 tach itself? The certainty of revenge and of 
 gain are sentiments that are very sweet to the 
 human heart. Federigo experienced them one 
 and all at the same time. But thinking of the 
 twelve yoimg men at whose expense he had 
 grown rich, and feehng persuaded that they 
 were the only honest players with whom he had 
 ever had to do, he repented for the first time his 
 victory over them. A slight shadow clouded his 
 face which had been shining with joy, and he 
 sighed deeply as he won the third game. 
 
 This game was succeeded by several others, 
 and Federigo arranged to win the greater num- 
 ber of them, so that he raked in, that first even- 
 ing, enough to pay for his dinner, and the rent 
 of his apartments for a month. That was all 
 he wished for the first day. His companions 
 withdrew greatly disappointed, but promising 
 to retiun the following day. 
 
 The next day and succeeding days Federigo 
 arranged to win and lose so aptly that in a short 
 time he acquired a considerable fortune, without 
 anyone's suspecting the real cause. Then he 
 left his hotel and went to live in a large palace, 
 
FEDERIGO 249 
 
 where he gave, from time to time, most magnifi- 
 cent entertainments. The loveliest women dis- 
 puted his most passing glance. His table was 
 covered every day with the most exquisite wines, 
 and the palace of Federigo became renowned as 
 the centre of pleasures. 
 
 At the end of a year's discreet gambling he 
 resolved to make his revenge complete by drain- 
 ing the pockets of the foremost noblemen of the 
 coimtry. To this end, having converted the 
 greater part of his money into precious stones, 
 he invited those gentlemen eight days beforehand 
 to an unsually splendid feast, for which he had 
 called into requisition the best musicians, dan- 
 cers, etc. This entertainment was to end with 
 a game with fat stakes. Those who had no 
 money squeezed it out of the Jews. The others 
 brought what they had, and all was swept away. 
 Federigo departed in the night with his gold and 
 his diamonds. 
 
 From that moment he never used the magic 
 cards except with dishonest gamblers, finding 
 that he could play a strong enough game himself 
 to win from the others. So he went through all 
 the cities in the world, playing everywhere, al- 
 ways winning, and at every halt feasting upon 
 the fat of the land. 
 
 Nevertheless, the memory of his twelve vie- 
 
250 FEDERIGO 
 
 tims was ever present in his mind, and poisoned 
 all his joys. At last he decided one fine day 
 either to deliver them, or to perish with them. 
 
 Having so resolved he set out for heU with 
 a staif in his hand and a sack on his back, and 
 with no escort save his favovu-ite hound Mar- 
 chesella. When he reached Sicily he climbed 
 Mount Gibel, then went down into the volcano 
 as far below the foot of the mountain as the 
 mountain itself rises above Piedmont. Thence, 
 in order to go to Pluto's abode, you must cross 
 a court which is guarded by Cerberus, Federigo 
 got across without any difficulty, while Cerberus 
 was playing with the hound, and knocked at 
 Pluto's door. 
 
 When he had been led into the monarch's 
 presence : 
 
 " Who art thou? " demanded the king of the 
 infernal abyss. 
 
 " I am Federigo, the gambler." 
 
 " What in the devil's name dost thou here? " 
 
 " Pluto, if thou deemest the best gambler on 
 earth worthy to play a game of hombre with 
 thee, here is what I would propose: we shall play 
 as many games as thou wilt. If I lose by a single 
 game then my soul will rightfully belong to 
 thee, as well as all those that people thy realm. 
 But if I win, I shall have the right to choose 
 
FEDERIGO 251 
 
 from among thy subjects one soul for every 
 game I win, and I shall be entitled to carry them 
 off with me." 
 
 " So be it," said Pluto. 
 
 And he called for a pack of cards. 
 
 " Here is one," said Federigo, immediately 
 drawing from his pocket the miraculous pack, 
 and they began to play. 
 
 Federigo won the first game, and asked for 
 the soul of Stephen Pagani, one of the twelve 
 whom he wished to save. It was at once handed 
 over, and having received it, he put it in his bag. 
 In the same way he won a second game, then a 
 third up to the twelfth game, each time asking 
 for and putting into his sack one of the souls in 
 which he was interested. When he had finished 
 the dozen he offered to continue playing. 
 
 " Very gladly," said Pluto (who however 
 was annoyed at losing), "but let us go out 
 a moment; some very disagreeable odour seems 
 to pervade this apartment." 
 
 Now he was trying to find a pretext for get- 
 ting rid of Federigo, for scarcely was the latter 
 outside with his sack and his souls, when Pluto 
 shouted with all his might to close the door upon 
 him. 
 
 Federigo having again traversed the court- 
 yard of Hades without Cerberus's noticing it, so 
 
252 FEDERIGO 
 
 charmed was he with the hound, once more 
 reached the summit of Mount Gibel. Then he 
 called Marchesella, who speedily rejoined him, 
 and went down again toward Messina more 
 elated over this spiritual success than he had ever 
 been over any worldly success. When he 
 reached Messina he set sail to return to terra 
 firma and end his days in his old manor house. 
 
 A few months later Marchesella gave birth 
 to a litter of little monsters, some of which had 
 as many as three heads. They were all drowned. 
 
 At the end of thirty years (Federigo was 
 then seventy) Death came to his door and told 
 him to put his affairs in order, for his hour was 
 come. 
 
 " I am ready," said the dying man; " but be- 
 fore you carry me off, O Death, give me, I pray 
 you, some of the fruit from the tree that shades 
 my door. Just this one little pleasure and I shaU 
 die happy." 
 
 " If that is all you need," said Death, " I 
 am quite willing to satisfy you." 
 
 He got into the orange tree to gather an 
 orange: but when he tried to get down he could 
 not: Federigo would not allow it. 
 
FEDERIGO 253 
 
 "Ah! Federigol you have deceived me," 
 cried he: "I am now in yom* power: but give 
 me back my hberty and I will promise you ten 
 more years of life." 
 
 " Ten years! That is not much! " exclaimed 
 Federigo. " If you wish to come down, my 
 friend, you must be more liberal than that." 
 
 " I'll give you twenty." 
 
 " Come! Be serious! " 
 
 " I'll give you thirty." 
 
 " That is not even one-third enough." 
 
 " Do you wish then to live for a century? " 
 
 " Just exactly, my dear." 
 
 " Federigo, you are unreasonable." 
 
 " What would you have? I like to live." 
 
 " Well, then, take a himdred years," said 
 Death; " it will have to come to that." 
 
 And at once he was able to get down. As 
 soon as Death departed Federigo arose in per- 
 fect health, and began a new hfe with all the 
 strength of a young man and the experience 
 of an old one. All that is known of this new 
 existence is that he continued to satisfy every 
 craving of his carnal appetite, doing a little 
 good when occasion arose, but giving no more 
 attention to his soul's salvation than in his first 
 hfe. 
 
 The hundred years rolled around and Death 
 
254. FEDERIGO 
 
 came again to knock at his door, and found him 
 in bed. 
 
 " Are you ready? " he said. 
 
 "I have just sent for my confessor," said 
 Federigo; "sit down by the fire until he comes. 
 I am just waiting to be absolved and then I wiU 
 fly with you into eternity." 
 
 Death, who was a kindly person, went and sat 
 down on the bench in the ingle-nook, and waited 
 for a whole hour without seeing any priest ap- 
 pear. Beginning at last to lose patience he said 
 to his host: 
 
 " Old man, once again, have you not had time 
 to put your affairs into order during the whole 
 century that has passed since I saw you before? " 
 
 " My word, I had something else to do," an- 
 swered the old man with a mocking smile. 
 
 " Well," answered Death, indignant at his 
 impiousness, " you have only one minute longer 
 to live." 
 
 " Bah! " said Federigo, while Death tried in 
 vain to get up. " I know by experience that you 
 are too obliging to refuse to grant me a few 
 years of respite." 
 
 " A few years, wretched man! " and he made 
 vain efforts to leave the ingle-nook. 
 
 " Yes, certainly, but this time I shall not re- 
 quire so much, and as I am not very fond of old 
 
FEDERIGO 255 
 
 age I shall be satisfied with eighty years for the 
 third round." 
 
 Death saw that he was held to the bench, as 
 he had been once before to the orange tree, by 
 some supernatural power; but in his rage he was 
 unwilling to grant anything. 
 
 " I know how I can bring you to reason," 
 said Federigo. 
 
 And he had three fagots thrown on the 
 fire. In a moment the flames filled the whole 
 fireplace so that Death was horribly tortured. 
 
 " Spare me! Spare me! " he cried as he felt 
 the flames burning him to the bone. " I'll 
 promise you eighty years of health," 
 
 Upon hearing these words Federigo broke 
 the charm, and Death fled half roasted. 
 
 At the end of the time agreed upon he came 
 back to wait for his man, who was awaiting him 
 with his sack on his back. 
 
 " Your hour has come this time and no mis- 
 take," said Death, entering brusquely; "no 
 drawing back now. But what do you mean to 
 do with this sack? " 
 
 " It contains the souls of twelve gambler 
 friends of mine whom I once delivered from 
 hell." 
 
 "Let them return with you!" said Death, 
 and seizing Federigo by the hair, he flew away 
 
256 FEDERIGO 
 
 toward the south and with his prey plunged 
 down into the abyss of Mount Gibel. When he 
 reached the gate of hell, he knocked three times. 
 
 " Who is there? " said Pluto. 
 
 " Federigo, the gambler," answered Death. 
 
 " Don't open the door," cried Pluto, who at 
 once remembered the twelve games which he had 
 lost; " that rogue would depopulate my realm." 
 
 As Pluto refused to open. Death carried his 
 prisoner off to Purgatory; but the angel at the 
 door refused him admission seeing that he was 
 in a state of mortal sin. It was necessary then 
 at all cost and to the great regret of Death, who 
 bore Federigo a grudge, to wing his way to the 
 celestial regions. 
 
 " Who art thou? " said St. Peter to Federigo 
 when Death had set him down at the gate of 
 Paradise. 
 
 " Your old host," he answered, "the one who 
 regaled you with the game he himself had 
 hunted." 
 
 "Dost thou dare present thyself here in the 
 state in which I see thee? " cried St. Peter. 
 " Dost thou not know that Heaven is closed to 
 such as thee? What! thou art not even fit for 
 Purgatory and thou desirest a place in Para- 
 dise!" 
 
 " St. Peter," said Federigo, " is it thus that 
 
FEDERIGO 257 
 
 I received thee when thou earnest with thy Divine 
 Master, some hundred and eighty years ago, 
 to ask hospitality from me? " 
 
 " That is all very well," replied St. Peter in 
 a reproving voice, though somewhat touched by 
 the reference. " But I can not take upon my- 
 self to let you in. I wiU go and tell Jesus Christ 
 about your arrival. We shall see what he will 
 say about it." 
 
 Our Lord hearing the news came to the gate 
 of Paradise, where he foimd Federigo kneeling 
 at the gate with his twelve souls, six on each side. 
 Then allowing himself to be moved with com- 
 passion : 
 
 " Thou mayst pass," he said to Federigo, " but 
 these twelve souls whom hell claims, I could not 
 in all conscience allow them to pass." 
 
 "What, my Lord," said Federigo, "when 
 I had the honour of receiving thee in my house 
 wert thou not accompanied by twelve travellers 
 whom I received with thee, with all the hospitality 
 that I could show." 
 
 " Really, one can not resist this man," said 
 Jesus Christ. " Come in, then, since ye are all 
 here: but boast not of this favour I have shown. 
 It would really be too bad a precedent." 
 
 1820. 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 WRITTEN TO THE DIRECTOR OF THE REVUE 
 DE PARIS 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 WRITTEN TO THE DIRECTOR OF THE BEVUE DE 
 PARIS 
 
 Madrid, October 25, 1830. 
 
 SIR: — BuU-fights are still very much in 
 vogue in Spain: but amongst Spaniards 
 of the better class there are very few who 
 do not feel a certain shame in acknowledging 
 their liking for a kind of entertainment which is 
 beyond all question exceedingly cruel. So they 
 try to advance weighty reasons to justify their 
 interest. First, it is a national amusement. The 
 word national alone would be enough in itself, 
 for in Spain lobby patriotism is as strong as it is 
 in France. Next, they add, the Romans must 
 have been greater barbarians than we, since they 
 pitted men to fight against men. Finally, the 
 economists add, agriculture is improved by this 
 custom: for the high price brought in by bulls 
 induces farmers to raise large herds. It must be 
 remembered that every bull has not the mettle 
 
 261 
 
262 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 to attack men and horses, and that, out of 
 twenty, it is hard to find one brave enough to 
 appear in the arena; while the other nineteen 
 are made use of for tilling the soil. The only 
 argument which they do not dare bring forward, 
 and which nevertheless would be unanswerable, 
 is that, cruel or not, this spectacle is so interest- 
 ing, so absorbing, and arouses emotions so vio- 
 lent that if you have once felt the eifect of the 
 first visit, it is impossible to give up the sport. 
 Strangers who go to the arena for the first time, 
 and only to do what they conceive to be their 
 duty as travellers, become in a little while as 
 wildly enthusiastic over buU-fights as the Span- 
 iards themselves. To the shame of humanity 
 be it admitted, war, with all its horrors, has a 
 most extraordinary attraction; especially to those 
 who view it from a safe shelter. 
 
 St. Augustine tells us that in his youth he 
 felt the strongest repugnance for gladiatorial 
 combats, which he had as yet never seen. Being 
 compelled, however, by a friend to go along to 
 one of these pompous butcheries, he vowed to 
 himself that he would shut his eyes during the 
 whole performance. At the start he kept his 
 promise weU enough; but hearing a shout that 
 arose from the crowd as it saw a famous gladiator 
 fall, he opened his eyes ; he opened them and he 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 263 
 
 could not shut them. From that moment and 
 until the time of his conversion he was one of 
 the most ardent spectators of the games of the 
 arena. 
 
 I am ashamed to quote myself after so great 
 a saint; stiU, you know that I have not the tastes 
 of an anthropophagus. The first time that I 
 went to the circus at Madrid I was afraid that 
 I should not be able to endure the sight of the 
 blood that they shed so freely; I was especially 
 afraid that my sensitiveness, which I mistrusted, 
 would make me seem ridiculous in the eyes of 
 the hardened lovers of the sport who had invited 
 me to their box. But not at aUl The first bull 
 that appeared was killed: I had no further 
 thought of going out. Two hours passed with- 
 out the slightest intermission, and I was not yet 
 tired. No tragedy had ever interested me so 
 intensely. During my stay in Spain I have not 
 missed a single fight, and, though I blush to 
 admit it, I like fights to the death better than 
 those in which they merely torment bulls who 
 have baUs on the end of their horns. There 
 is the same diiference as between combats a 
 Voutrance and tournaments with blunted lances. 
 However, the two kinds of combat are very much 
 alike except that in the second the danger to 
 the men is almost nil. 
 
264 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 The celebration begins the day before a fight. 
 In order to avoid accidents the bulls are taken 
 to the stable of the circus {encierro) after night- 
 fall, and the day before the date arranged for 
 the fight they are put out to pasture in a field 
 not far from Madrid {el arroyo). It is con- 
 sidered worth while to take the time and trouble 
 to go out to see these bulls, which often come 
 from a great distance. A large number of car- 
 riages, gentlemen on horseback and pedestrians 
 go to the arroyo. Many young men wear upon 
 this occasion the elegant costume of an Andalu- 
 sian majo * and display a magnificence and 
 luxury which the simplicity of our ordinary at- 
 tire quite debars. Moreover this outing is not 
 without danger; the bulls are not fastened, 
 the men in charge have difiiculty in making 
 themselves obeyed, and onlookers have to be 
 on their guard to avoid being attacked by the 
 buUs. 
 
 There are arenas (plazas) in almost all the 
 large cities of Spain. These edifices are of very 
 simple, not to say rude construction. As a rule 
 they are merely great wooden stands, and the 
 amphitheatre at Ronda is spoken of as a marvel 
 because it is entirely built of stone. It is the 
 finest in Spain, just as the Castle of Thunderten- 
 
 * A dandy of the lower classes. 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 265 
 
 Tronldi was the finest in Westphalia, because 
 it had a door and windows. But what mat- 
 ters the decoration of a theatre if the play be 
 good? 
 
 The amphitheatre at Madrid can accom- 
 modate about seven thousand spectators, who 
 are enabled to come in and go out without con- 
 fusion, by the numerous doors which are pro- 
 vided. The spectators sit on wooden, or stone 
 benches;* a few boxes have chairs. That of His 
 Catholic Majesty is the only one fitted out with 
 any considerable degree of elegance. 
 
 The arena is surrounded by a strong palisade, 
 about five and a half feet high. Two feet from 
 the ground, all the way around on both sides of 
 the palisade, there is a wooden ledge, a sort of 
 foothold or stirrup, by means of which the 
 toreador, when he is pursued, can more easily 
 leap over the barriers. A narrow passageway 
 separates this barrier from the seats of the spec- 
 tators, which are raised as high as the barrier, 
 and further protected by a double cord, held in 
 place by strong stakes. This precaution dates 
 from only a few years back. A bull had not 
 only leaped over the barrier, which frequently 
 happens, but it crashed on up to the seats — where 
 it killed and wounded a nvraiber of onlookers. 
 
 * For the last few years all the benches have been of stone. 
 
266 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 This cord which is stretched around is deemed 
 sufficient to prevent the recurrence of a similar 
 accident. 
 
 Four doors open into the arena. One com- 
 municates withthe bulls' stable (toril) ; the other 
 leads to the slaughter house (matadero), where 
 the bulls are skinned and cut up. The two others 
 are used by the human actors in this tragedy. 
 
 A little while before the fight, the toreadors 
 meet in a hall adjoining the arena. Near by are 
 the horses' stables. Farther on there is an in- 
 firmary. A surgeon and a priest are in attend- 
 ance. 
 
 The hall which serves as a foyer is adorned 
 with a picture of the Madonna, before which 
 burn some candles; beneath it is a table with a 
 little brazier containing glowing charcoal. Each 
 toreador as he enters takes oif his hat before 
 the painting, hastily mutters some snatch of a 
 prayer, then takes a cigar out of his pocket, 
 fights it at the brazier, and smokes and chats with 
 his companions and the sportsmen who have come 
 to talk over with them the points of the bulls 
 they are to meet. 
 
 At the same time, in an inner court, the horse- 
 men, who are to fight on horseback, make ready 
 for the fray by exercising their horses. With 
 this end in view they charge fuU gallop at a 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 267 
 
 wall, which they strike with a long pole in place 
 of a pikestaff; without removing their poles 
 from this point of contact they train their horses 
 to turn as rapidly and as close to the wall as 
 possible. You will see presently that this drill 
 is not without its use. The horses used are worn- 
 out army hacks which are bought very cheaply. 
 Before entering the arena, lest they should be 
 frightened by the shouts of the throng, they 
 are blindfolded, and their ears are stopped up 
 with dampened wads. 
 
 The arena presents a very animated appear- 
 ance. Long before the hour of the fight it has 
 been packed with spectators, and the benches and 
 boxes show a confused mass of heads. There 
 are two kinds of seats; those on the shady side 
 are the dearest and most comfortable; but the 
 sunny side is always filled with intrepid enthu- 
 siasts. Far fewer women are to be seen than 
 men, and those present are for the most part 
 manolos (women of the town). In the boxes, 
 however, are to be seen some elegant gowns, but 
 very few yoimg women.* For some time 
 French and English novels have been perverting 
 the ideas of Spanish women, and lessening their 
 respect for their ancient customs. I do not be- 
 lieve that the clergy are forbidden to attend 
 
 * The contrary holds true to-day. 
 
268 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 these spectacles; yet I have seen only one priest 
 present in clerical garb. I have been told that 
 several go in disguise. 
 
 Upon a signal from the president of the 
 contest an alguazil mayor, accompanied by two 
 alguazils in Crispin costume, all three on horse- 
 back, and followed by a troop of horsemen, clears 
 out the arena and the narrow passageway which 
 separates it from the seats. When they have 
 withdrawn, a herald, escorted by a notary and 
 some other alguazils on foot, comes to the middle 
 of the enclosure and reads a notice forbidding 
 the spectators to throw anything into the arena, 
 to disturb the combatants by signs or cries, etc. 
 Scarcely has he appeared when, in spite of the 
 dignified formula: " In the name of our Sover- 
 eign the King, whom may the Lord long pre- 
 serve "... an outburst of shouts and whis- 
 tling is heard from all sides and continues during 
 the whole reading of the order, which moreover is 
 never observed. At the circus, and there alone, 
 the people hold sovereign sway and can do and 
 say what they will.* 
 
 There are two principal classes of toreadors: 
 the picadors who fight on horseback, armed with 
 a lance, and the chulos on foot who torment the 
 
 * Since the re-establishment of the constitution this notice from 
 His Majesty the King is no longer read. 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 269 
 
 bulls by waving bright coloured cloths in front 
 of them. Amongst the latter are the banderil- 
 leros and the matadors, about whom I shall speak 
 to you presently. All wear Andalusian cos- 
 tumes, very much like that of Figaro in Le 
 Barhier de Seville, but instead of silk knicker- 
 bockers and stockings, the picadors have trousers 
 of heavy leather studded with wood and iron to 
 protect their legs and thighs from the horns of 
 the bulls. When afoot they walk with their legs 
 spread out like compasses, and if they are over- 
 thrown they can scarcely get up again without 
 help from the chulos. Their saddles are very 
 high, shaped like Turkish saddles, with stirrups 
 like wooden shoes completely covering the foot. 
 In order to make their nags obey, their spurs 
 have sharp teeth two inches long. Their lance 
 is thick and strong, ending in a very sharp iron 
 spike; but as the pleasure must be made to last 
 as long as possible this spike is provided with a 
 cord pad, which allows the iron to penetrate only 
 one inch into the body of the bull. 
 
 One of the alguazils catches in his hat a key 
 which the President of the games throws to him. 
 This key opens nothing; nevertheless he carries 
 it to the man whose business it is to open the 
 toril, and makes off at full gallop, followed by 
 the shouts of the multitude, who call to him that 
 
270 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 the bull is already outside and is pursuing him. 
 This joke is repeated at every fight. 
 
 In the mean time the picadors have taken their 
 places. There are usually two on horseback in 
 the arena; two or three others are in waiting 
 outside ready to take the place of the others 
 in case of accident such as death, a severe frac- 
 ture, etc. A dozen chulos are stationed about, 
 within reach to help each other. 
 
 The buU, previously irritated in his cage, 
 comes out in a rage. Usually he reaches the 
 middle of the enclosure at a bound, and there 
 stops short, astonished at the noise which he 
 hears, and the spectacle which he sees around 
 him. Upon the nape of his neck he wears a bow 
 of ribbons, fastened into his skin by a little 
 hook. The colour of the ribbons indicates from 
 what herd (vacada) he has been taken, but 
 a practised sportsman recognises at a single 
 glance to what province and breed the animal 
 belongs. 
 
 The chulos approach, wave their bright 
 coloured mantles, and try to lure the bull to- 
 ward one of the picadors. If the animal is brave 
 it attacks without a moment's hesitation. The 
 picador, keeping his horse well in hand, has placed 
 himself with his lance under his arm exactly in 
 front of the bull; he seizes upon the moment 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 271 
 
 when the bull lowers its head, ready to strike 
 with its horns, to give it a blow with his lance 
 on the nape of the neck and nowhere else.* 
 
 He throws the whole weight of his body into 
 the blow, and at the same time turns his horse 
 off to the left, so as to have the bull on his right. 
 If all these movements are well carried out, if 
 the picador is strong, and his horse is quick to 
 respond, the bull, carried on by its own impetus, 
 passes without touching him. Then it is the duty 
 of the chulos to take up the bull's attention so 
 as to give the picador time to get out of the way ; 
 but often the animal recognises too well the 
 person by whom it has been wounded; it turns 
 quickly, outruns the horse, buries its horns in 
 the unfortunate animal's flank, and overturns 
 horse and rider. The latter is at once relieved 
 by the chulos ; some hf t him up, others, by throw- 
 ing their capes at the head of the bull, turn it 
 aside and bring it toward them, then make their 
 escape by running to the barriers and climbing 
 over with the most astonishing agility. Spanish 
 bulls run as quickly as a horse, and if a chulo 
 
 * One day I saw a picador thrown from his horse and just about 
 to be killed if his companion had not freed him, and made the bull 
 draw back by striking it on the nose. The circumstance made the 
 deed excusable — nevertheless I heard all lovers of the sport cry out : 
 " Shame ! shame ! a lance thrust on the nose ! That man should be 
 thrown out of the arena." 
 
272 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 were very far from the railing he would have 
 great difficulty in escaping. So it is very seldom 
 indeed that the horseman, whose life depends 
 upon the skill of the chulos, ventures toward 
 the middle of the arena; when he does so, it is 
 considered a most extraordinary display of 
 courage. 
 
 Once more on his feet the picador immedi- 
 ately mounts his horse again, if he can succeed 
 in getting it up too. It matters little if the poor 
 creature is losing streams of blood, if its entrails 
 are dragging on the ground and entangled in 
 its legs; as long as a horse can stand on its feet 
 it must face the bull. If the horse can not be 
 got up on its feet, the toreador leaves the arena, 
 and comes back at once, mounted on a fresh 
 horse. 
 
 I have already said that the lance thrust can 
 wound a bull only very slightly and has merely 
 the effect of irritating the beast. However, the 
 shock of running against horse and rider, its own 
 exertions, especially the strain of bracing itself 
 to a sudden stop, tires the bull soon enough. 
 Often, too, the pain of the lance thrusts discour- 
 ages it, and then it no longer dares attack the 
 horses, or, in the parlance of the buU ring, it 
 refuses to enter. In the mean time if it is vigor- 
 ous, it has by this time killed four or five horses. 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 273 
 
 The picadors then take a breathing space and 
 a signal is given to use the banderillas. 
 
 Banderillas are sticks about two and a half 
 feet long covered with cut-out paper, and end- 
 ing in a sharp end, which is barbed in order that 
 it may remain in the wound. The chulos hold 
 one of these darts in each hand. The surest 
 way of using them is to creep up quietly behind 
 the bull, then to suddenly startle it by striking 
 the banderillas loudly together. The bull turns 
 around in surprise and attacks its enemy with- 
 out a moment's hesitation. When the bull has 
 almost reached him, just as it lowers its head 
 to make a charge, the chulo buries the points 
 of the two banderillas in each side of the animal's 
 neck, which can only be done by standing for 
 a moment face to face with the bull, and almost 
 between its horns; then he slips away, lets it go 
 by, and runs to the raiUng in order to reach a 
 place of safety. A slight distraction, a start of 
 hesitation or fear, would be enough to cause his 
 destruction. Connoisseurs, however, consider 
 the part of the banderillas the least dangerous 
 of all. If by accident he falls as he is planting 
 his banderillas in the animal's neck he should not 
 try to get up again ; he lies motionless in the spot 
 where he falls. A bull very rarely strikes on 
 the ground, not from generosity, but because 
 
274 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 in charging it shuts its eyes and passes over the 
 man without seeing him. Sometimes it stops, 
 however, and snufFs at him, as if to^make sure 
 that he is really dead; then drawing back a few 
 paces it lowers its head to lift him on its horns; 
 but then the chulo's comrades surround it, and 
 so completely occupy its attention that it is com- 
 pelled to abandon the feigned corpse. 
 
 When the bull has shown itself cowardly, 
 that is to say when it has not spiritedly received 
 four lance thrusts, that is the regulation number, 
 the spectators, sovereign judges, condemn it by 
 acclamation to a sort of torture which is at the 
 -same time a punishment and a means of arousing 
 its ire. On all sides the cry is raised " Fuego! 
 Fuego!" (Fire! Fire!), Then they distribute 
 to the chulos in place of their usual weapons 
 banderillas which have handles surrounded by 
 fireworks. The point is fitted with a piece of 
 hghted tinder. As soon as it enters the hide the 
 tinder is pushed back against the wick of the 
 fuses. They take fire and the flame, which is 
 directed toward the bull, burns into its flesh, 
 and makes it leap and bound in a way which 
 proves extremely amusing to the public. It is 
 really a wonderful sight to see this enormous 
 animal foaming with rage, shaking the blazing 
 banderillas and tossing itself about in the midst 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 275 
 
 of flame and smoke. In spite of the opinion of 
 the poets I must say that of all the animals I 
 have observed, not one has less expression in its 
 eyes than the bull. I should rather say changes 
 less in expression: for it has always the same 
 look of brutal and sullen stupidity. Rarely does 
 it give voice to its agony by groans: wounds 
 irritate and frighten it: but never, if you wiU 
 pardon the expression, does it seem to consider its 
 fate; it never weeps like the stag. So it can 
 awaken pity only when it has made itself con- 
 spicuous by its courage.* 
 
 When the bull is carrying in his neck two or 
 three pairs of banderillas it is time to finish with 
 him. A roll of drums is heard; inunediately one 
 of the chulos (the matador) ,who has been selected 
 beforehand, advances from the midst of a group 
 of conu-ades. Richly clothed, covered with gold 
 and silk, he holds a long sword, and a scarlet 
 mantle fastened to a rod, so that he can handle 
 it more readily. This is called la muleta. He 
 advances before the President's box, and, with a 
 profound bow, asks permission to kill the bull. 
 This formality is gone through only once for 
 
 * Sometimes and upon important occasions the staff of the ban- 
 derilla is wrapped around with a net in which are imprisoned little 
 live birds. The point of the banderilla, as it is buried in the buU's 
 neck, cuts the knot which closes the net, and the birds escape after 
 having struggled for a }ong time around the animal's ears. 
 
276 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 the whole fight. The President, of course, re- 
 pUes in the affirmative, with a nod. Then the 
 matador shouts a viva, pirouettes about, throws 
 his hat on the ground, and goes to meet the bull. 
 
 In these fights there are rules to be observed, 
 as well as in duels; to break them would be as 
 infamous as to kiU an adversary by treachery. 
 For instance, a matador may only strike a bull 
 at the point where its neck joins its back, what 
 the Spaniards call the cross. The blow must 
 be struck from above, en seconde so to speak; 
 never from below. It were a thousand times 
 better to lose one's life than to strike a bull from 
 below, on the side, or from behind. The sword 
 which the matador uses is long, strong, and two- 
 edged; the handle is very strong and ends in a 
 baU which is held against the palm of the hand. 
 It takes long practice and a particular skUl to 
 be able to use this weapon. 
 
 In order to successfully kill a bull one must 
 thoroughly understand its nature. Upon this 
 knowledge depends not only the glory but also 
 the life of the matador. As can be easily im- 
 agined, bulls differ as greatly in character as 
 do men; however, they can be divided into two 
 distinct classes: the clear and the obscure. I 
 am using here the language of the ring. The 
 clear attack openly; the obscure on the contrary 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 277 
 
 are tricky and try to take their man by treachery. 
 These latter are extremely dangerous. 
 
 By trying to give the bull the sword thrust 
 the matador waves the muleta before it, excites 
 it, and observes carefully if it openly rushes upon 
 the muleta as soon as noticed, or if it comes up 
 quietly in order to gain ground, and to attack 
 its adversary only when it seems too close to 
 avoid the encounter. Often one sees a bull shake 
 its head menacingly, paw the earth without being 
 willing to advance, or even slowly draw back, 
 trying to draw the man toward the middle of 
 the ring where he could not escape. Others, in- 
 stead of charging in a straight line, approach 
 obliquely, slowly, and feigning fatigue; but as 
 soon as they have measured their distance they 
 charge like a flash. 
 
 For anyone who imderstands somewhat, it is 
 an interesting sight to observe the advances of 
 the matador and the bull, who, like two skilful 
 generals, seem to guess each other's intention, . 
 and change their movements at any moment. A 
 turn of the head, a side glance, the lowering of 
 an ear, are for the experienced matador so many 
 not uncertain indications of his enemy's inten- 
 tions. At last the buU, enraged, hurls itself at 
 the flag with which the matador intentionally 
 covers himself. Its strength is such that it would 
 
278 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 break down a wall with its horns; but the man 
 lightly slips aside; disappears as though by en- 
 chantment and leaves only the light drapery 
 which he hfts above its horns, defying its fury. 
 The impetuosity of the bull carries it away past 
 its adversary; it stops suddenly, stiffening its 
 legs, and these sudden and violent reactions tire 
 it so greatly that if this tactic is prolonged, it in 
 itself is sufficient to kill the buU. So Romero, 
 the famous professor, says that a good matador 
 should kill eight buUs with seven blows; one of 
 the eight wiU die from fatigue and rage. 
 
 After several passes, when the matador thinks 
 he understands his antagonist, he prepares to 
 strike the final blow. Planting himself firmly 
 on his feet he places himself in front of the bull 
 and standing perfectly still awaits it, at a proper 
 distance. His right arm, armed with the sword, 
 is bent up on a level with his head; the left, 
 stretched forward,tholds the muleta almost touch- 
 ing the ground, and so inciting the bull to lower 
 its head. At this moment the matador deals the 
 death blow, with all the strength of his arm, 
 augmented by the weight of his body and the 
 impetus of the bull itself. The sword, which is 
 three feet long, is often buried to the hilt, and if 
 the blow is well directed the man has nothing 
 more to fear; the bull stops short; the blood flows 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 279 
 
 scantily; it raises its head; its muzzle twitches, 
 and suddenly it falls in a heavy mass. Immedi- 
 ately there arises from all the tiers of benches a 
 deafening thunder of Viva! handkerchiefs are 
 waved; the hats of majos fly into the ring, and 
 the victorious hero modestly kisses his hand in all 
 directions. 
 
 It, is said that in former times only one blow 
 was given; but everything has degenerated and 
 now it is very rare that a bull falls at the fii'st 
 blow. If, however, it seems mortally wounded 
 the matador does not redouble; helped by the 
 chulos he makes it go round in a circle exciting 
 it with mantles so as to daze it for a short time. 
 As soon as it falls a chulo finishes it with a 
 fierce dagger thrust on neck; the animal expires 
 immediately. 
 
 It has been noticed that nearly all bulls have 
 a spot in the circus to which they always return. 
 This is called the querencia. Usually it is the 
 door by which they enter the ring. 
 
 Often one sees a bull with the fatal sword 
 buried up to the hilt in its neck, cross the ring 
 slowly, disdaining the chulos and their draperies 
 with which they are pursuing it. The animal's 
 one thought now is to die in peace. Seeking 
 the spot for which it has shown a preference, 
 it kneels there, lies down, stretches out its neck 
 
280 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 and quietly dies, unless a thrust from a dagger 
 does not come to hasten the end. 
 
 If the buU refuses to make an attack the 
 matador runs up to it, and always just at the 
 moment when the animal lowers its head, pierces 
 it with his sword (estocada di volapie) ; but if 
 it does not lower its head, or if it persists in 
 running away, it becomes necessary, in order to 
 kill it, to have recourse to a very cruel expedient. 
 A man armed with a long pole tipped with a 
 sharp crescent-shaped blade, treacherously cuts 
 the tendons of the animal's legs from behind; 
 and as soon as it is thrown down, finishes it 
 with a dagger thrust. This is the one episode 
 in these fights which is repugnant to everyone. 
 It is nothing short of an assassination. For- 
 tunately it is seldom necessary to go to such 
 lengths to kiU a buU. 
 
 A blare of tnimpets announces its death. 
 Immediately three mules in harness trot into the 
 ring; a rope is knotted around the bull's horns 
 and to this a hook is fastened, and the mules 
 gallop off with it. Each fight lasts about twenty 
 minutes, and usually eight bulls are killed in an 
 afternoon. If there has been a lack of excite- 
 ment, at the request of the public, the president 
 of the games will grant one or two additional 
 fights. 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 281 
 
 You see that the calling of a torero is rather 
 dangerous. In an average year two or three 
 in the whole of Spain die. Very few of them 
 live to an advanced age. If they do not die in 
 the ring, they are obliged to retire from it at 
 an early age, on accoxmt of their wounds. The 
 famous Pepe lUo received in his lifetime twenty- 
 six wounds, the last one killed him. The rather 
 high salary of these people is not the only in- 
 ducement which leads them to enter their dan- 
 gerous profession. The fame and applause 
 which it wins for them makes them willing to 
 brave death. How sweet it is to triumph before 
 five or six thousand people I So it is not imusual 
 for sportsmen of good family to share the dan- 
 ger and glory of professional toreros. At Se- 
 ville I saw a Marquis and a Count act as pic- 
 adors in a public bull-fight. 
 
 It is true that the public shows little pity 
 for the toreros. The sUghtest sign of timidity 
 is punished by shouts and hisses, the most in- 
 sulting comments poiu* down from all sides; 
 sometimes even by the order of the spectators, 
 and it is the most terrible mark of their indigna- 
 tion, an alguazil goes up to the toreador, and 
 charges him, upon pain of imprisonment, to at- 
 tack the bull as quickly as possible. 
 
 One day the actor Maiquez, indignant at see- 
 
282 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 ing a matador hesitate in the presence of the 
 most " obscure " of all the bulls, heaped insults 
 upon him. " Senor Maiquez," said the matador 
 to him, " don't you know it is not a case here 
 of the kind of lies which you have on the foot- 
 boards." 
 
 The applause which greets them and their 
 desire to make a reputation, or keep that which 
 they have already earned, obhge the toreadors 
 to heighten the dangers to which they are natu- 
 rally exposed. Pepe lUo, and Romero after him, 
 used to present themselves before the bull with 
 irons on their feet. The presence of mind these 
 men show when confronting the most imminent 
 danger is nothing short of miraculous. Re- 
 cently a picador named Francisco Sevilla was 
 thrown from his horse and his horse disem- 
 bowelled by an Andalusian bull of the most re- 
 markable strength and agility. This bull, in- 
 stead of allowing itself to be diverted by the 
 chulos, pursued the man, trampled him vinder 
 foot, and repeatedly attacked his legs with its 
 horns, but finding its adversary's legs too well 
 protected by his leather iron-trimmed trousers, 
 it turned about and lowered its head to bury its 
 horns in his chest. Then Sevilla, raising himself 
 by a supreme effort, seized the bull's ear with 
 one hand and buried the fingers of the other in 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 283 
 
 its nostrils, at the same time keeping his head 
 glued to that of the infuriated beast. In vain 
 did the buU shake him, trample him under foot, 
 thump him against the ground; not once could 
 it make him relax his hold. We watched this 
 uneven contest with our hearts in our mouths. 
 It was the dying agony of a brave man; we 
 almost regretted that it was being prolonged. 
 It was impossible to cry out, to breathe, or to 
 turn away one's eyes from this horrible sight; 
 it lasted almost two minutes. At last the bull, 
 overcome by the man in this hand-to-hand con- 
 flict, left him in order to follow some chulos. 
 Everyone expected to see SeviUa carried out of 
 the enclosure. They picked him up, but scarcely 
 was he on his feet when he seized a mantle and 
 tried to attract the bull, in spite of his heavy 
 riding boots and his unwieldy leg armour. It 
 was necessary to snatch the mantle out of his 
 hands, otherwise he would have certainly been 
 killed. They brought him a horse; he leaped 
 upon its back boiling with rage, and attacked 
 the bull in the middle of the ring. So terrible 
 was the shock when these two vahant adversaries 
 came together, that horse and bull fell on their 
 knees. Oh ! If you could have heard the vivas ; 
 if you could have seen the wild joy, the intoxica- 
 tion of the crowd at seeing such coiu-age and 
 
284 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 such success, like me, you would have envied the 
 fate of Sevilla! This man has been immortal- 
 ised in Madrid. 
 
 June, 1842. 
 
 P. S. — I have just received very sad news. 
 Francisco SeviUa died last year. He died, not 
 in the ring where he should have ended his days, 
 but was carried off by a disease of the liver. 
 He breathed his last at Caravenchel, near those 
 beautiful trees that I so dearly love, far from 
 the public, for which he had so often risked 
 his life. 
 
 I had seen him in 1840 in Madrid, as brave, 
 as fool-hardy, as at the time when I wrote the 
 letter you have just read. I saw him again 
 more than twenty times rolling in the dust, under 
 his torn and wounded horse; I saw him break 
 many a lance and fiercely attack the terrible bulls 
 of Gavira. " If Francisco Sevilla had horns," 
 they would say in the arena, "there isn't a 
 toreador who wotild dare appear before him." 
 
 The habitual success which attended him in- 
 spired him with the most incredible audacity. 
 When he appeared before a bull he grew in- 
 dignant because the bull was not afraid of him. 
 " So you don't know me?" he would shout at 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 285 
 
 him in a rage. And in truth he soon let them 
 know with whom they had to do. 
 
 My friends arranged for me the pleasure of 
 dining with Sevilla. He ate and drank like a 
 Homeric hero, and was the jolhest companion 
 one cotdd ask for. His Andalusian manners, his 
 joviality and his patois, with its abundant pic- 
 turesque metaphors, had a peculiar piquancy in 
 this giant, who seemed to have been created by 
 nature merely to exterminate everything. 
 
 A Spanish lady who was fleeing from Ma- 
 drid when it was being ravaged by cholera, was 
 travelling to Barcelona in the same diligence as 
 Sevilla, who was going to the same town to a 
 bull-fight that had been announced a long time 
 beforehand. During the journey Sevilla was not 
 for a moment lacking in politeness, courtesy and 
 httle attentions. When they reached Barcelona 
 the health commissioners, stupid as they always 
 are, told the travellers that there would be a ten 
 days' quarantine for all except Sevilla, whose 
 presence was so strongly desired that sanitary 
 laws did not apply to him; but the generous 
 picador would not hear to this exception, which 
 was so greatly to his advantage. " If this lady 
 and my companions are not to have free pas- 
 sage," he said resolutely, " I will not take part 
 in the fight." 
 
286 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 Between the fear of contagion and that of 
 missing a good bull-fight there could not be a 
 moment's hesitation. The commissioners gave 
 way : and they did well, for if they had persisted 
 the population would have burned the station 
 and officials. 
 
 Having paid my tribute of praise and regret 
 to the shade of Sevilla, I must speak of another 
 celebrity who reigns to-day without rival in the 
 bull-ring. So little is known in France of what 
 goes on in Spain that there are perhaps on the 
 other side of the Pyrenees persons to whom the 
 name of Montes is still unknown. 
 
 All that fame has published of true or of 
 false concerning the classical matadors, Pepe 
 lUo, and Pablo Romero, is exemplified every 
 Monday in the National Circus, as they now call 
 it. Courage, grace, coolness, marvellous skill — 
 he unites them all. His presence in the ring en- 
 livens, transports actors and spectators. There 
 are no longer bad bulls, timid chulos. Each one 
 outdoes himself. Toreadors of doubtful courage 
 become heroes when Montes leads them, for they 
 know that with him no one runs any risk. A 
 single gesture from him is enough to turn aside 
 the most infuriated bull, just as it is about to 
 run through a prostrate picador with its horns. 
 Never has the media luna been seen in the ring 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 287 
 
 where Montes fights. Clear, obscure, all biills 
 are good fighters with him. He fascinates them, 
 he transforms them, he kills them when and as 
 it pleases him. He is the first matador whom 
 I have seen gallear el toro, that is to say, turns 
 his back on the enraged animal, and lets it pass 
 under his arm. He scarcely deigns to turn his 
 head when the bull rushes at him. Sometimes 
 throwing a cloak over his shoulder he crosses the 
 ring followed by the bull; the beast in a fury 
 pursues him without being able to reach himi, 
 and yet it is so near Montes that each time it 
 charges, its horns raise an end of the cloak. So 
 great is the confidence which Montes inspires, 
 that for the spectators all idea of danger has disi- 
 appeared, and their only feeling is one of ad- 
 miration. 
 
 Montes is said to hold opinions not at all 
 favourable to the present order of things. They 
 say that he has been a stiff royalist: that he is 
 a shrimp (cangrejo), that is to say a moderate. 
 If good patriots regret this they can not avoid 
 sharing the general enthusiasm. I have seen 
 descalzos (ragamuffins) throw their hats to him 
 in an ecstasy and beg him to put it on his head 
 for an instant. There are 16th centm-y ways 
 for you I Brantome says somewhere: "I have 
 known many gentlemen who before wearing 
 
288 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 their silk stockings begged their ladies to put 
 them on, and wear them first for eight or ten 
 days, more or less ; and then they themselves wore 
 them with great veneration and great content- 
 ment of body and mind." 
 
 Montes has the bearing of a man of good 
 breeding. He lives luxuriously and devotes him- 
 self to his family, for whose future he has pro- 
 vided by his talent. His aristocratic manners 
 give offence to some toreadors who are jealous 
 of him. I remember he declined our invitation 
 to dinner when we entertained Sevilla. Upon 
 this occasion Sevilla gave us his opinion of 
 Montes with his usual frankness. Montes no fue 
 realista; es huen companero, luciente matador, 
 
 atiende a las picadores pero es un p " 
 
 Which means that he wears a frockcoat outside 
 the bull-ring, that he never frequents drinking 
 places, and that he is altogether too well-bred. 
 
 Sevilla is the Marius of the bull-ring, Montes 
 is the Caesar. 
 
 II 
 
 Valencia, November 15, 1830. 
 Sir: After having given you a description 
 of the bull-fights, there remains but one thing 
 for me to do, if I am to follow the admirable 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 289 
 
 rule of the puppet shows, " always going on 
 from good to better " — and that is to tell you 
 about an execution. I have just seen one, and 
 I will give you an account of it, if you have 
 the courage to read what I say. 
 
 In the first place I must tell you why I was 
 present at an execution. In a foreign country 
 you feel obliged to see everything, and you are 
 always afraid that, from some momentary lack 
 of energy or indiiference, you may miss some 
 unusual custom peculiar to the country. More- 
 over, the history of the unfortunate wretch who 
 was hung had aroused my interest; I wished to 
 see his physiognomy ; and lastly I was very glad 
 to test my nerves. 
 
 Here is the history of my man who was 
 hung (I forgot to inquire what his name was). 
 He was a peasant from round about Valencia, 
 respected and feared for his boldness and daring. 
 In his village he was cock of the walk. There 
 was no one who danced better, who could throw 
 the bar of iron farther, who knew more songs 
 of the olden days. He was not given to quar- 
 relling, but it was well known that it required 
 very httle to rouse him to anger. If he accom- 
 panied travellers, with his carbine on his shoulder, 
 not a single robber would dare to stop them, 
 though they carried valises filled with golden 
 
290 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 doubloons. And it was a sight that gladdened 
 the eyes to see this young man with his velvet 
 cloak thrown over his shoulder, strutting through 
 the streets, and lolling about with an air of con- 
 scious superiority. In a word, he was a ma jo 
 in the full force of the term. A ma jo is one 
 who is, at the same time, a dandy of the lower 
 class, and a person who is exceedingly sensitive 
 as to his personal honovu'. 
 
 The Castilians have a proverb which they 
 quote to the discredit of the Valencians, a prov- 
 erb which in my opinion is utterly false. It 
 runs as follows : " In Valencia the meat is grass ; 
 the grass, water — the men are women, and the 
 women — nothing." I can certify that the cuisine 
 of Valencia is excellent, and that the women 
 there are extremely pretty, and fairer than in 
 any other province in Spain. You shall see what 
 manner of men they have in that country. 
 
 A bull-fight was being given. The ma jo had 
 not a real in his pocket. He was counting that 
 a royalist volimteer who was on duty that 
 day would let him go in free. But not at 
 all. The volunteer was inflexible in carry- 
 ing out his orders. The ma jo insisted, the volun- 
 teer persisted, mutual recriminations. At last 
 the volunteer thrust the claimant back roughly 
 with a blow in the stomach from the butt of his 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 291 
 
 gun. The ma jo withdrew; but all those who 
 noticed his clenched fists, the pallor which over- 
 spread his countenance, his dilated and quivering 
 nostrils, and the expression of his eyes — all such 
 were convinced that some evil would be the out- 
 come of this encounter. 
 
 Fifteen days later the brutal volunteer was 
 dispatched with a detachment in pursuit of some 
 smugglers. They slept in a lonely inn {venta). 
 In the night a voice was heard calling: " Open 
 the door, I have a message from your wife." 
 The volunteer went down half -dressed — scarcely 
 had he opened the door when the discharge from 
 a blimderbuss set fire to his shirt and discharged 
 a dozen balls into his breast. The murderer dis- 
 appeared — who fired the shot? No one could 
 guess. Certainly it was not the ma jo who killed 
 him, for a dozen women can be found who are 
 pious and good royalists, and who can swear by 
 the name of their patron saint, and kissing their 
 thvunbs, that they all saw the above mentioned, 
 each one in her own particular village, at exactly 
 the hour and minute at which the crime was 
 committed. 
 
 And the majo showed himself with the open 
 and serene countenance of a man who has just 
 freed himself from some carking care. So it is 
 that men show themselves at Tortonio's the even- 
 
292 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 ing after a duel, when they have bravely broken 
 the arm of someone who has offended their digni- 
 ty. Pray notice in passing that assassination is 
 the duel of poor people ; a form of duel which is 
 far more serious than ours, since it is generally 
 followed by two deaths, while gentlemen in good 
 society scratch much oftener than kill each other. 
 
 AH went well, vmtil a certain alguazil, in an 
 excess of zeal (according to some because he had 
 just been appointed to office — according to 
 others, because he was in love with a woman who 
 preferred the majo) took into his head to try 
 to arrest this amiable person. So long as he 
 confined himself to threats his rival merely 
 laughed; but when at last he really tried to lay 
 hands on him, he made him swallow an ox-tongue 
 — ^which is their expression for a knife-cut. 
 Does lawful self-defence authorise one to thus 
 make vacant the place of an alguazil? 
 
 Alguazils are greatly respected in Spain, al- 
 most as much so as constables in England. The 
 penalty of maltreating an alguazil is hanging. 
 So the majo was seized, thrown into prison, and 
 condemned after a very long trial; for the forms 
 of justice are even longer than with us. 
 
 If you take a moderately charitable view of 
 the case, you will agree with me that this man 
 did not deserve his fate, that he was the victim 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 293 
 
 of an unhappy fatality, and that without too 
 greatly burdening their consciences the judges 
 might have given him back to the society of 
 which he was born to be the ornament (language 
 of the bar). But judges seldom give place to 
 these noble and poetical sentiments; they unan- 
 imously condemned him to death. 
 
 One evening as I happened to pass the mar- 
 ket-place, I noticed some workmen who, by torch- 
 light, were raising some posts which were curi- 
 ously fitted together, forming something like 
 the shape of a T. A group of soldiers were 
 lined up in a circle, and kept back the over-curi- 
 ous onlookers, for the following reason: The 
 gallows (for such the structure proved to be) 
 is raised by statute labour, and the workmen who 
 are pressed into service, can not, without making 
 themselves guilty of rebellion, refuse to render 
 this service. So by way of compensation the 
 public authorities see to it that they are allowed 
 to do almost in secret this work, which public 
 opinion looks upon as disgraceful. To this end 
 they are surrounded by soldiers who keep off 
 the crowd, and they work only by night; so that 
 it is impossible to recognise them, and they 
 do not run the risk of being called " gallows 
 builders " the next day. 
 
 At Valencia an old Gothic tower serves as 
 
294 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 prison. It is a rather fine piece of architecture, 
 especially the fa9ade which overlooks the river. 
 It is situated at one end of the city, and is at 
 the same time one of its chief gates. It goes by 
 the name of " La Puerta de los Serranos." 
 From the flat roof on the top of it one has a 
 view^ of the Guadalaviar, the fine bridges which 
 cross it, the walks about Valencia, and the smil- 
 ing country arovmd about. Gazing upon fair 
 fields must be rather a sad pleasure when one 
 is shut up between four walls; but after all it 
 is a pleasure, and one should be grateful to the 
 jailer who allows the prisoners to go up to this 
 flat roof. To captives even the smallest pleas- 
 ures are sweet. 
 
 From this very prison the doomed man was 
 to issue, and mounted on a donkey, make his 
 way through the busiest streets of the city to the 
 market-place, where he would take leave of 
 this world. 
 
 In good time I found myself before La 
 Puerta de los Serranos, with one of my Spanish 
 friends who was good enough to accompany me. 
 I expected to find a considerable crowd gathered 
 together since early morning; but I was mis- 
 taken. Artisans were quietly working in their 
 shops, peasants were leaving the city after hav- 
 ing sold their vegetables. There was nothing 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 295 
 
 to give notice that anything extraordinary was 
 to take place, except a dozen dragoons drawn up 
 near the prison. The lack of eagerness shown 
 by the Valencians to see executions is not, I 
 think, to be attributed to an excess of delicacy 
 of feeling on their part. But neither am I sure 
 that I should believe, with my guide, that they 
 have become so indifferent to this spectacle from 
 often witnessing it, that it has lost all attrac- 
 tion for them. Possibly this indifference arises 
 from the industrious habits of the Valencians. 
 Love of work and gain distinguishes them not 
 only from all the rest of the population of Spain, 
 but also from the rest of Europe. 
 
 At eleven o'clock the prison door opened. 
 Immediately a somewhat mmierous procession 
 of Franciscans came forward. They were pre- 
 ceded by a great crucifix carried by a penitent, 
 escorted by two acoljrtes, each with a lantern 
 hung at the end of a pole. The life-sized cruci- 
 fix was of pasteboard painted in the most extra- 
 ordinarily natural way. The Spaniards, who try 
 to make religion as terrible as possible, really 
 excel in depicting the wounds, bruises and marks 
 of tortures suffered by their martyrs. Upon 
 this crucifix, which was to figure at an execu- 
 tion, neither blood, stripes, nor livid swellings had 
 been spared. It was the most hideous piece of 
 
296 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 anatomy imaginable. The man who carried this 
 horrible figure had stopped outside the gate. 
 The soldiers had drawn a little nearer, about a 
 hundred onlookers had grouped themselves be- 
 hind, near enough to lose nothing of what would 
 be said or done, when the condemned prisoner 
 appeared, accompanied by his confessor. 
 
 Never shall I forget the man's face. He 
 was very tall and thin and looked about thirty 
 years old. His forehead was high, his hair thick, 
 black as jet, and straight as the bristles of a 
 brush, his great eyes, deep sunk in his head, 
 seemed to send forth flames. His feet were bare, 
 and he was clad in a long black robe on which 
 had been sewn over the heart, a blue and red 
 cross. Such are the insignia of the dying. The 
 collar of his shirt, plaited like a ruff, fell over 
 his shoulders and his breast. A slender whitish 
 cord, which stood out clearly against the black 
 of his robe, was passed several times around his 
 body, and by a series of complicated knots, fast- 
 ened his arms and hands in the attitude of prayer. 
 In his hands he held a little crucifix and an 
 image of the Virgin. His confessor was coarse- 
 featured, short, fat, with a florid face. He 
 looked like a good man, but like a man who had 
 long been engaged in just such work and who 
 had seen many others in the same position. Be- 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 297 
 
 hind the condemned prisoner stood a pale, weak, 
 slender man, with a gentle and timid-looking 
 face. He wore a brown coat, black breeches and 
 stockings. I should have taken him for a notary, 
 or alguazil in undress uniform, had it not been 
 that he was wearing a wide-brimmed grey hat 
 such as the picadors wear at bull-fights. Upon 
 seeing the crucifix he respectfully took off his 
 hat, and I noticed then a little ivory ladder 
 fastened to the crown, like a cockade. He was 
 the hangman. 
 
 As he put his head outside the gate, the 
 prisoner, who had been obliged to stoop to pass 
 under the wicket, drew himself up to his full 
 height, opened his eyes staring wide, hastily 
 scanned the crowd and drew a deep breath. It 
 seemed to me that he breathed the air with pleas- 
 ure, like one who had been long shut up in some 
 narrow and close-smelling cell. His expression 
 was strange. It was not one of fear, but rather 
 of uneasiness. He seemed resigned. No surli- 
 ness, nor air of bravado. I said to myself that 
 in similar circumstances I would wish to show 
 as good a coimtenance. 
 
 His confessor told him to kneel before the 
 crucifix; he obeyed, and kissed the feet of that 
 hideous image. At that moment, all those pres- 
 ent were moved by the sight and maintained a 
 
298 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 profound silence. The confessor, noticing it, 
 raised his hands to free them from the long 
 sleeves which would have impeded him in his 
 oratorical gestures, and began to deliver a dis- 
 course which had probably served him more than 
 once before. His voice was strong and accentu- 
 ated, but nevertheless monotonous by reason of 
 a periodical repetition of the same intonations. 
 He pronounced every word clearly, his accent 
 was pure and he spoke good Castilian, which the 
 prisoner perhaps imderstood only very imper- 
 fectly. He began each sentence in a shrill 
 voice rising to falsetto, but ended in a grave 
 low voice. 
 
 In substance, he said to the prisoner whom 
 he called his brother: " You have truly deserved 
 death, indeed great indulgence has been sho^vn 
 you in that you have been merely condenmed 
 to the gallows; for your crimes are very great." 
 At this point he said only a word or two about 
 the murders cormnitted: but he spoke at great 
 length on the ungodliness in which the penitent 
 had spent his youth, and which alone had driven 
 him to destruction. Then, warming little by 
 little to his subject: " But what is this well-de- 
 served punishment which you are going to suffer 
 here, compared with the untold sufferings which 
 your Divine Saviour endured for you? Look 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 299 
 
 at this blood, these wounds, etc." A long de- 
 tailed enumeration of all the sufferings of the 
 Passion, described with all the exaggeration be- 
 fitting the Spanish language, and illustrated by 
 means of the ugly crucifix of which I have 
 spoken. The peroation was better than the 
 exordium. He said, but at much too great 
 length, that God's mercy is infinite, and that real 
 repentance can turn away his anger. 
 
 The prisoner arose, looked at the priest with 
 a rather sullen air: " Father, it was enough to 
 tell me that I am going to glory: come, let us 
 move on." 
 
 The confessor withdrew into the prison, well 
 pleased with his sermon. Two Franciscans took 
 his place beside the condemned prisoner; they 
 were not to leave him. until the last moment. 
 
 First of all they stretched him out on a mat 
 which the hangman drew a little toward himself, 
 but not at all roughly, as if by a common con- 
 sent between the sufferer and the executioner. 
 It was a mere form in order to carry out the 
 letter of the clause which reads: " Hxing after 
 having been dragged over wattles." 
 
 This done the unfortunate wretch was hoisted 
 upon an ass, which the hangman led by the 
 halter. By his side walked the two Franciscans, 
 preceded by two long lines of the monks of this 
 
300 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 order, and lay -brothers belonging to the Brother- 
 hood of the Desamparados. Banners and crosses 
 were not forgotten. Behind the ass came a 
 notary and two alguazils in black French coats, 
 breeches and silk-stockings, swords at their sides, 
 and mounted on wretched nags with miserable 
 trappings. A picket of cavalry brought up the 
 rear. While the procession very slowly ad- 
 vanced the monks chanted the litany in low tones, 
 and men in cloaks circulated around the cortege, 
 holding out silver plates to the onlookers, and 
 asking alms for the poor unfortunate {por el 
 pobre). This money is used for masses for the 
 repose of his soul, and to a good Catholic who 
 is going to be hung, it must be a consolation 
 to see the plate rapidly filling with great rovmd 
 pennies. Every one gives something. Impious 
 as I am, I gave my offering with a feeling of 
 utmost respect. 
 
 In truth I like these Catholic ceremonies, and 
 I should be glad to believe in them. On this 
 occasion they have the advantage of impressing 
 the crowd much more deeply than our cart, our 
 gendarmes, and the petty and ignoble cortege 
 which in France accompanies executions. More- 
 over, and it is particularly for this reason that 
 I like these crosses and processions, all the cere- 
 mony must greatly contribute to soften the last 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 301 
 
 moments of the condemned. This mournful 
 pomp flatters his vanity, the last sentiment to 
 die out within us. Then these monks whom he 
 has revered since his childhood, and who pray 
 for him, all must bewilder and benumb him, take 
 up his attention and keep him from thinking 
 of the fate that awaits him. If he turns his 
 head to the right the Franciscan on that side 
 speaks to him of the infinite mercy of God. On 
 the left, another Franciscan is ready to extol 
 the powerful intercession of our Lord. He goes 
 to his pmiishment like a recruit betv/een two of- 
 ficers who keep watch upon and exhort him. 
 " He has not a moment's quiet! " the philosopher 
 will cry. All the better. The continual excite- 
 ment in which he is kept hinders him from giving 
 himself up to his own thoughts which would tor- 
 ment him far more. 
 
 Then it was that I understood why the monks, 
 and especially those mendicant orders, exert so 
 great an influence on the lower classes. If I 
 may say it without giving off'ence to the in- 
 tolerant liberals, they are in reality the support 
 and consolation of the unfortunates from the 
 day of their birth until the day of their death. 
 What a horrible task, for instance, is this: to 
 converse for three days with a man who is going 
 to be put to death. I believe that if I had the 
 
302 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 misfortune to be hung I should be very glad 
 to have two Franciscans to talk to me. 
 
 The route which the procession followed was 
 exceedingly winding, in order that they might 
 go through the wider streets. With my guide 
 I went the shortest way, so that we could again 
 see the condemned man as he passed. I noticed 
 that in the interval between the time of his leav- 
 ing the prison, and the time of his reaching the 
 street where I again saw him he had become con- 
 siderably bent over. He was shrivelling up little 
 by little. His head, as if it were merely sup- 
 ported by the skin of his neck, had fallen for- 
 ward on his breast. Nevertheless I did not 
 notice on his countenance an expression of fear. 
 He gazed fixedly at the crucifix which he held 
 between his hands, and if he tm-ned away his 
 eyes, it was to look upon the two Franciscans 
 to whom he seemed to hsten with interest. 
 
 Then I would have withdrawn, but I was 
 urged to go to the open square, and to go into 
 a merchant's house, where I should have full 
 liberty to watch the hanging from the high 
 balcony, or to withdraw from the spectacle by 
 going back into the apartment. So I went. 
 
 The square was far from being filled. The 
 women selhng fruit and herbs did not put them- 
 selves out in the shghtest. One could move 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 303 
 
 about freely. The gallows, surmounted by the 
 arms of Aragon, was erected in front of a fine 
 Moorish building — the Silk Exchange (la Lonja 
 de Seda). The market-place is long. The 
 houses around it are small, but top-heavy with 
 many stories; each row of windows has its iron 
 balcony. In the distance they look like great 
 cages. A considerable number of them were 
 quite unoccupied by spectators. 
 
 In the balcony where I was to take my place 
 I found two young girls of from sixteen to seven- 
 teen, comfortably ensconced in chairs, and fan- 
 ning themselves in the most comfortable manner 
 imaginable. Both were very pretty, and from 
 their very neat black silk dresses, their satin 
 slippers, and their lace-trimmed mantillas, I 
 judged that they were the daughters of some 
 middle-class family in easy circumstances. I 
 was confirmed in this opinion, because although 
 they used in speaking together the Valencian 
 dialect, still they understood and spoke Spanish 
 very correctly. 
 
 In one corner of the square, a little chapel 
 had been erected. This chapel and the gallows, 
 which were not far separated, were enclosed in 
 a great hollow square formed by some royalist 
 volunteers and troops of the line. 
 
 The soldiers opened their ranks to allow the 
 
304 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 procession to enter, the prisoner was taken down 
 from his donkey, and led before the altar of 
 which I have just spoken; the monks were gath- 
 ered aromid him; he was on his knees and re- 
 peatedly kissed the steps of the altar. I do not 
 know what they were saying to him. In the 
 meantime the hangman was examining the rope 
 and his ladder. When this scrutiny was finished 
 he approached the victim, who was still kneeling, 
 put his hand on his shoulder, and as is the 
 custom, said to him: " Brother, the time has 
 come." 
 
 All the monks save one had left him, and the 
 hangman was apparently put in charge of his 
 victim. As he led him to the ladder (or rather 
 wooden stairway) he was careful to shield the 
 prisoner from seeing the gallows, by holding 
 before his eyes his wide-brimmed hat. But the 
 condemned man seemed to be trying to push 
 away the hat, with his head, wishing to show 
 that he had courage enough to look upon the 
 instrument of his torture. 
 
 The bells were ringing noon, when the hang- 
 man went up the fatal stairway, drawing after 
 him the condemned criminal, who went up only 
 with great difficulty because he was walking 
 backward. The stairs were wide and provided 
 with a handrail on one side only. The monk was 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 305 
 
 on the side of the handrail, the hangman and 
 the victim went up on the other. The monk was 
 speaking continually and with many gestures. 
 When they reached the top of the stairs, at the 
 moment when the executioner with extraordinary 
 rapidity passed the rope around the neck of his 
 victim, the monk, so they say, made him repeat 
 the creed. Then raising his voice, he cried: 
 " Brethren, unite your prayers with those of this 
 poor sinner." I heard a soft voice heside me 
 say in a moved tone, " Amen." I turned my 
 head and I saw one of my pretty Valencian girls, 
 who with heightened colour was fanning herself 
 in perceptible agitation. She was looking atten- 
 tively toward the gallows. I turned my eyes 
 in the same direction: the monk was coming 
 down the stairs, and the condemned man was 
 hanging in the air, the hangman on his shoulders 
 and an attendant pulling his feet. 
 
 P. S. — I do not know if your patriotism will 
 pardon my partiality for Spain. Since we are 
 by way of discussing punishments, I will tell 
 you that if I like Spanish executions better than 
 ours, I also greatly prefer their galleys to those 
 in which we place every year some twelve hun- 
 dred rascals. Please notice that I am not speak- 
 ing of the African presidios, which I have not 
 seen. At Toledo, Seville, Grenada, and Cadiz 
 
306 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 I have seen a large niimber of presidarios (gal- 
 ley-prisoners) who did not seem particularly 
 wretched. They were working at making or 
 mending the roads. They were badly enough 
 dressed; but on their faces was not written that 
 black despair which I have noticed on the faces 
 of our galley-slaves at home. They ate out of 
 great caldrons a puchero like that of the soldiers 
 who were guarding them, and afterward they 
 smoked their cigar in the shade. But what has 
 especially pleased me here, is that they are not 
 shunned as they are in France. The reason is 
 simple: in France any man who has been in the 
 gallejrs has stolen, or done worse. In Spain, on 
 the contrary, very worthy persons, at different 
 epochs, have been condemned to pass their lives 
 there, because they held opinions displeasing to 
 those who governed them. Although the num- 
 ber of these political victims is infinitely small, 
 it is quite sufficient to change public opinion 
 in regard to all galley-prisoners. It is better 
 to treat a rascal well than to show a lack of 
 courtesy toward a gentleman. So they give 
 them lights for their cigars, and call them " my 
 friend," — " comrade." Those in charge of them 
 do not make them feel that they belong to an 
 inferior order of beings. 
 
 If this letter does not seem to you already 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 307 
 
 most unduly long I shall tell you of a little 
 incident which befell me a short time ago, and 
 which will serve to illustrate the bearing of the 
 people toward the presidarios. 
 
 As I was leaving Grenada on my way to 
 Baylen I met on the way a tall man who was 
 wearing alpargates, and walking along with a 
 good military stride. He was followed by a 
 little spaniel. His clothes were of an unusual 
 cut and totally different from those of the 
 peasants whom I had met. Although my horse 
 was trotting he followed me without difficulty 
 and opened a conversation with me. We were 
 soon good friends. My guide called him " Mon- 
 sieur," "Your Grace" {Usted). They talked 
 together about a Mr. So and So of Grenada 
 who commanded the presidio and whom they 
 both knew. When lunch-time came we halted 
 at a house where we were able to get some wine. 
 The man with the dog drew a piece of salt cod- 
 fish out of a bag and offered it to me. I sug- 
 gested that we share our luncheons, and we all 
 three ate with a hearty appetite. I must even 
 admit to you that we all drank from the same 
 bottle, for the excellent reason that it would 
 have been impossible to find a glass within a 
 league. He told me that he was travelling merely 
 on account of the dog and that his commandant 
 
308 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 was sending him to Jaen that he might deliver 
 it to one of his friends. Seeing him without uni- 
 form and hearing him speak of his commandant, 
 I said : " You must be a soldier of the guard, 
 then? " " No, I am presidario." I was a little 
 surprised. " How could you fail to see it from 
 his vmiform," asked my guide? 
 
 Moreover, the attitude of this man who was 
 an honest muleteer did not change the least in 
 the world. He offered the bottle to me first, 
 out of deference to my position of cabelleroj 
 then he offered it to the convict, and drank after 
 him; in short, he treated him with all the polite- 
 ness which the lower classes show among them- 
 selves in Spain. " But why were you sent to the 
 galleys? " I asked my travelling companion. 
 
 " Oh! sir, it was a bit of bad luck. I was 
 mixed up with several deaths." {Fue por una 
 desgracia. Me JiallS la unes muertas. ) " How 
 in the world? " 
 
 "I'll tell you how it happened. I was a 
 soldier of the guard. With some twenty of my 
 comrades I was escorting a gang of convicts 
 from Valencia. On the way their friends tried 
 to set them free, and at the same time our 
 prisoners rebelled. Our captain was in a tight 
 place. If the prisoners escaped he would be 
 held responsible for all their misdeeds. So he 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 309 
 
 decided the matter for himself, and shouted to 
 us, ' Fire on the prisoners.' We fired and killed 
 fifteen of them, after which we drove back their 
 comrades. All that took place during the time 
 of the famous constitution. When the French 
 came back and took it away again, they tried 
 us soldiers because among the presidarios killed 
 there were several royalist gentlemen (cabal- 
 leros) whom the constitutionalists had put there. 
 Our captain was dead, so they turned upon us. 
 My sentence will soon expire, and as my com- 
 mandant has confidence in me because my con- 
 duct has been good he is sending me to Jaen to 
 give this letter and this dog to the commandant 
 of the presidio." 
 
 My guide was a royalist and it was evident 
 that the convict was a constitutionalist; never- 
 theless, they went along on the best terms possi- 
 ble. When we started on our way again, the 
 spaniel was so tired that the convict was obliged 
 to carry it on his back, wrapped up in his coat. 
 The conversation of this man amused me greatly; 
 while the cigars I gave him, and the luncheon 
 which he had shared with me, had so attached 
 him to me that he was anxious to follow me to 
 Baylen. 
 
 " The road is not very safe," he told me. 
 " I will get a gun at Jaen from one of my 
 
310 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 friends, and even if we met half a dozen brigands, 
 they should not get as much as a handkerchief 
 from you." 
 
 " But," I said to him, " if you do not return 
 to the presidio you run the risk of having your 
 term lengthened by a whole year, perhaps." 
 
 "Bah! What's the difference? And then 
 you will give me a certificate attesting that I 
 accompanied you. Besides, I should not feel 
 comfortable if I let you go all alone on that 
 road " 
 
 I should have consented to his accompanying 
 me if he had not fallen out with my guide. And 
 this was the cause of their misunderstanding. 
 Having for eight Spanish leagues kept pace with 
 our horses, which were trotting whenever the 
 condition of the roads allowed it, he took it into 
 his head to declare that he could keep up with 
 them even if they galloped. My guide jeered 
 at this statement. Our horses were not hope- 
 lessly bad; we had a quarter of a league of level 
 country before us, and the convict was carrying 
 the dog on his back. He was challenged. We 
 set off, but that possessed creature really had the 
 legs of a mountaineer, and our horses could not 
 outstrip him. The pride of their master could 
 never forgive the presidario for this affront. He 
 stopped speaking to him; and as we had reached 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 311 
 
 Campillo de Arenas, he made his feeling so ap- 
 parent that the convict, with the discretion which 
 characterises the Spaniard, understood that his 
 company was not desired, and withdrew. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Madrid, November, 1830. 
 
 Sir: Here I am once more in Madrid after 
 having spent several months travelling north, 
 south, east, and west through Andalusia, that 
 classic land of robbers, without having met one, 
 I had prepared for an attack from robbers, not 
 to defend myself but to talk to them, and to 
 question them very politely on their mode of life. 
 As I look at my coat, threadbare at the elbows, 
 and my exceedingly modest luggage, I deeplj'' 
 regret having missed those gentlemen. The 
 pleasure of meeting them would not have been 
 too dearly paid, by the loss of a light port- 
 manteau. 
 
 But if I have not seen any robbers, by way 
 of compensation I have heard nothing else talked 
 about. Postihons and inkeepers tell you most 
 lamentable tales of travellers assassinated, and 
 of women carried away, every time a halt is made 
 
312 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 to change mules. The event, of which you are 
 told has always taken place the night before on 
 some part of the road on which you are going 
 to travel. The traveller who does not yet under- 
 stand Spain, and who has not yet had time to 
 acquire the sublime insouciance of the Castilian 
 la flema castellana, no matter how incredulous 
 he may ordinarily be, does not fail to be some- 
 what impressed by these tales. Day closes, and 
 with far greater rapidity than in our northern 
 climes; here, twilight lasts but a moment; then 
 there comes up, especially near the mountains 
 a wind which would doubtless be warm in Paris, 
 but which, when compared with the heat of the 
 day, seems cold and disagreeable. As you wrap 
 yourself in your cloak, and pull your travelling 
 cap down over your eyes, you notice that the men 
 of your escort throw away the charges of their 
 guns without renewing them. Astonished at 
 this strange proceeding you ask the reason, and 
 those brave hearts, who are accompanying you, 
 answer from the seat where they are perched on 
 the top of the coach, that they have the greatest 
 possible amount of courage, but they can not 
 alone withstand a band of robbers. 
 
 " If we are attacked, our only hope of re- 
 ceiving quarter is by proving that we never had 
 any intention of defending ourselves." 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 313 
 
 Then what is the use of encumbering oneself 
 with these men and their useless guns? Oh! 
 They are excellent as a protection against the 
 rateros — that is to say, the amateurs who relieve 
 travellers of their luggage when an opportunity 
 presents itself. Never more than two or three 
 of them are found together. 
 
 The traveller then repents having taken so 
 much money with him. He consults his Brequet 
 watch, to see the time by it for the last time, as 
 he thinks. How glad he would be if he knew 
 that it was safe on his mantelpiece at home! He 
 asks the mayoral (conductor) if the robbers take 
 travellers' clothes. 
 
 " Sometimes, sir. Last month the diligence 
 from Seville was stopped near Carlota, and all 
 the travellers came into Ecija like so many little 
 angels." 
 
 " Little angels! What do you mean? " 
 
 " I mean that the bandits had stripped them 
 of all their clothes and had not left them even a 
 shirt." 
 
 "The deuce!" cries the traveller, buttoning 
 his coat up tightly. But he becomes somewhat 
 calmer, and even smiles as he notices a young 
 Andalusian woman, one of his fellow travellers, 
 devoutly kissing her thumb and sighing: "Jesus! 
 Jesus! " (Everybody knows that those who kiss 
 
314 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 their thumbs after having made the sign of the 
 cross, are always helped by it.) 
 
 Dark night has settled down upon us; but 
 fortunately a brilliant moon is rising in a cloud- 
 less sky. We can just see in the distance the en- 
 trance to a terrible mountain gorge which is 
 not less than half a league long. 
 
 " Mayoral, is that the place where the dili- 
 gence was stopped once before? " 
 
 " Yes, sir, and a traveller was killed. Pos- 
 tilion," continues the mayoral, " don't crack your 
 whip for fear of warning them." 
 
 " Warning whom? " asks the traveller. 
 
 " The robbers," answers the mayoral. 
 
 " The deuce! " cries the traveller. 
 
 " Oh, sir, please look down there at the turn 
 of the road, are those not men? They are hid- 
 ing in the shadow of that great rock." 
 
 " Yes, madam; one, two, three, foui-, five, 
 six men on horseback." 
 
 " Ah ! Jesus, Jesus ! " ( Sign of the cross and 
 kisses on her thmnbs.) 
 
 " Mayoral, can you see down there? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "I see one of them holding a big stick, per- 
 haps it is a gun." 
 
 " Yes, it is a gun." 
 
 " Do you think that they are some of the good 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 315 
 
 people {buena gente) ? " our young Andalusian 
 asks anxiously. 
 
 " Who can telll " answers the mayoral, shrug- 
 ging his shoulders, and drawing down the cor- 
 ners of his mouth. 
 
 " Then heaven forgive us all! " and she hides 
 her face on the shoulder of the traveller who is 
 doubly moved. 
 
 The coach is going Hke the wind; eight 
 sturdy mules at a fast trot. The horsemen stop, 
 they draw up in a line — to bar our way? No! 
 they open up their ranks ; three to the right, and 
 three to the left of the road. Evidently they 
 wish to surround the coach on all sides. 
 
 " Postilion, stop your mules if those men 
 give the order. Whatever you do, don't bring a 
 shower of shot down upon us." 
 
 " You can depend upon it, sir, I have as great 
 interest in the matter as you." 
 
 At last we are so near that we can already 
 distinguish the broad hats, Turkish saddles, and 
 white leather gaiters of the six horsemen. If we 
 could only distinguish their features, what eyes! 
 what beards! what scars we should behold! 
 There can no longer be any doubt that they are 
 robbers, for they have gims. 
 
 The first robber touches the brim of his broad 
 hat, and says in a quiet, grave voice, " Vayan 
 
316 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 XJds. con Dios " (Go in the name of God) ! This 
 is the greetmg which travellers exchange on the 
 road. " Vayan Uds. con Dios" the other trav- 
 ellers repeat in turn, and pohtely turn aside to 
 allow the coach to pass; for they are honest 
 farmers who have stayed late at the market at 
 Ecija, and who are travelHng in a company and 
 armed on accomit of the widespread fear of roh- 
 bers, already mentioned. 
 
 After a few encomiters of this kind one soon 
 becomes very sceptical as to the existence of 
 robbers. One grows so accustomed to the rather 
 wild-looking faces of the peasants that real 
 brigands would seem merely honest peasants 
 who had neglected to shave for some time. A 
 young Enghshman whom I met at Granada had 
 for a long time travelled over some of the worst 
 roads in Spain without the shghtest accident, 
 vmtU he vigorously denied the existence of rob- 
 bers. One day he was stopped by two ill- 
 favoured looking men armed with guns. He at 
 once supposed that they were peasants indulging 
 in horseplay, who thought that they would get 
 a httle fxm by frightening the traveller. Each 
 time that they called upon him to hand over his 
 money, he laughed and answered that he saw 
 through their trick and that they could not get 
 the better of him. He could not see his error 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 317 
 
 until one of the real bandits gave him a blow 
 with the stock of his gun — such a blow, that 
 three months later the Englishman still carried 
 the scar. 
 
 Except in very rare cases Spanish brigands 
 never maltreat travellers. Often they merely 
 seize the money which the travellers carry about 
 them, without opening trunks, or even searching 
 them. Still, that is not to be always counted 
 upon. A young dandy from Madrid was going 
 to Cadiz with two dozen fine shirts which he had 
 ordered from London. The brigands stopped 
 him near Carlota, and after taking all that he 
 had in his purse, without mentioning the rings, 
 chains, and love souvenirs, which so popular a 
 young man could not fail to have, the robber- 
 chief politely called his attention to the fact that 
 as his band were obliged to avoid the more popu- 
 lous districts, their linen was in sore need of 
 being sent to the laundry. The shirts were 
 spread out and admired. Then the captain, 
 saying, like Hali of the Sicilian: "Between 
 knights such a liberty is permissible," he put a 
 few into his sack, then took off the black rags 
 which he had been wearing for six weeks at 
 least, and joyfully arrayed himself in his pris- 
 oner's finest linen. Each robber did the same; 
 so that the vmhapy traveller not only found him- 
 
318 LETTERS FROM SPAI]^ 
 
 self despoiled of his own wardrobe, but also in 
 possession of a heap of rags which he would 
 not have dared touch with the end of his cane. 
 In addition he had to endure the jests of the 
 brigands. The captain, with the mocking 
 gravity which the Andalusian can so well as- 
 sume, said in taking leave of him, that he would 
 never forget the service just rendered, that he 
 would make all possible haste to return the 
 shirts lent him, and that he would take back his 
 own linen as soon as he had the honour of meet- 
 ing the traveller again. 
 
 " Above all," he added, " do not forget to 
 have these gentlemen's shirts washed; we can 
 then get them from you on your way back 
 from Cadiz." 
 
 The young man who told me about this rob- 
 bery, of which he had been the victim, assured 
 me that he could have forgiven the robbers the 
 loss of the shirts more, readily than their mali- 
 cious jests. 
 
 At different times the Spanish Government 
 bas made serious efforts to clear the highways 
 -of the robbers who since time immemorial have 
 been in possession of the pubhc ways. They 
 have never succeeded in obtaining decisive re- 
 sults. One band would be exterminated, but 
 immediately another would be formed. Some- 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 819 
 
 times a Captain General would succeed after 
 great effort in stamping out all the robbers in 
 his district; but then the surrounding districts 
 would be overflowing. 
 
 The nature of the country, bristling with 
 mountains, and without weU-laid roads, makes 
 it very difficult to exterminate the brigands. In 
 Spain, as in La Vendee, there is a large number 
 of isolated farmsteads, aldeas, several miles dis- 
 tant from any inhabitated spot. By garrisoning 
 all these farmsteads and all the little hamlets the 
 brigands would speedily be obliged to surrender 
 themselves, — but when would it be possible to 
 find money enough, soldiers enough? 
 
 The owners of the aldeas, so one feels, try 
 to keep on good terms with the brigands, whose 
 vengeance is greatly to be feared. On the other 
 hand, the highwaymen, depending upon the 
 farmers for their sustenance, spare them, pay 
 them well for what they need, and sometimes even 
 share their booty with them. I must add that 
 the profession of highwayman is in general not 
 considered in any way a disgrace. To steal upon 
 the highroads is in the eyes of many to offer 
 opportunities to protest against tyrannical laws. 
 Now a man who, with nothing but his gun, is 
 daring enough to hurl defiance at the Govern- 
 ment, is a hero whom the men respect and the 
 
320 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 women admire. Certainly it is glorious to be 
 able to cry in words of the old ballad : 
 
 A iodos los desqfie, 
 
 Pues 6 nadie tengo miedo ! 
 
 A brigand generally begins by being a 
 smuggler. His business is disturbed by the 
 revenue officer. It is a crying injustice to nine- 
 tenths of the population that they should tor- 
 ment a fine feUow, who sells cheap, better cigars 
 than those of the King, and who brings back 
 siDcstuffs for the women, English merchandise, 
 and all the gossip from a circuit of ten leagues. 
 If a revenue officer succeeds in killing or taking 
 a smuggler's horse, the smuggler is ruined. He 
 must seek vengeance, so he becomes a highway- 
 man. You ask what has become of a fine young 
 fellow whom you noticed some months before 
 and who was the cock of the village. 
 
 "Alas!" answers a woman, "he was forced 
 to take to the mountains. It was not his fault, 
 poor lad! He was so gentle! Heaven protect 
 him!" 
 
 These kindly souls hold the Government 
 responsible for all the misdeeds of the robbers. 
 " The Government," they say, " drives the poor 
 people to despair, when all they ask is to be al- 
 lowed to be left alone, and live quietly by follow- 
 ing their trade." 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 321 
 
 The model of the Spanish brigand, the proto- 
 type of the hero of the highroad, the Robin 
 Hood, the Roque Guinar of our time, is the fa- 
 mous Jose Maria, nicknamed el Tempranito — 
 tlie Early. He is the man most spoken of from 
 Madrid to Seville, from Seville to Malaga. 
 Handsome, brave, courteous in so far as a rob- 
 ber can be — such is Jose Maria. If he stops a 
 dihgence, he hands the ladies out with quite an 
 air, and is careful to find them comfortable seats 
 in the shade, for it is usually by day that he 
 performs the most of his exploits. Never an 
 oath, never a coarse word; quite, on the con- 
 trary, almost respectful consideration, and a nat- 
 ural politeness which never fails. If he takes 
 a ring from a lady's finger: "Ah, madam," 
 he says, " so fair a hand has no need of orna- 
 ments." 
 
 Jose Maria has been described to me as a 
 tall young man, from twenty-five to thii"ty years 
 old, well built, with an open and smiling coim- 
 tenance, teeth white as pearls, and remarkably 
 expressive eyes. He usually wears a sumptu- 
 ously rich ma jo's costume. His linen is always 
 spotlessly clean, and his hands would do credit 
 to a young dandy in London or Paris. 
 
 It is not more than five or six years since 
 he began to hunt the highroads. He was 
 
322 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 destined by his parents for the Church, and he 
 studied theology at the University at Granada; 
 but his vocation was not very strong, for one 
 night he entered the house of a young lady of 
 good family. " Love," they say, " excuses 
 much "... but there was talk of violence 
 of a servant who was wounded. ... I have 
 never been able to make much out of this story. 
 The father made loud complaint, and criminal 
 proceedings were begun. Jose Maria was com- 
 I)€lled to fly and to hide himself in Gibraltar. 
 There, as he found himself in need of money, 
 he made a bargain with an English trader to 
 smuggle a large amount of contraband goods. 
 He was betrayed by a man to whom he had 
 confided his plans. The revenue officers 
 knew the road he was to follow, and they lay 
 in wait for him. All his mules were taken; 
 but he gave them up only after a fierce strug- 
 gle in which he killed and wounded several 
 officers. From that time on his only resource 
 was to take prisoners for the ransom they 
 would pay. 
 
 The most extraordinary good luck has ac- 
 companied him up to the present day. A price 
 has been put on his head, a description of him 
 is posted up on every town-gate, with the prom- 
 ise of 8,000 reals reward to any one — even an 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 323 
 
 accomplice — delivering him up to justice dead 
 or alive.* 
 
 Nevertheless, Jose Maria still follows un- 
 hanned his dangerous profession, and his trips 
 extend from the frontier of Portugal to the 
 Kingdom of Mm-cia. His band is not large, but 
 it is composed of men of long proven fidelity 
 and resolution. One day at the head of a band 
 of a dozen picked men he surprised at the 
 Venta de Gazin twenty royalist volunteers who 
 had been sent in his pm-suit and he disarmed 
 them all. Then they saw him very deliberately 
 go back to the mountains driving before him 
 two mules and loaded with seventy carabines as 
 if he were going to make a trophy. 
 
 Wonderful tales are told of his marksmanship. 
 With his horse going at full gallop he could hit 
 the trunk of an ohve-tree at one hundred and 
 fifty paces. The following incident will give 
 an idea of his skill and also of his generosity. 
 
 A certain Captain Castro, an officer of great 
 courage and zeal who pursued robbers, they say, 
 quite as much to satisfy personal vengeance as 
 to carry out his military duties, learned through 
 one of his spies that Jose Maria could be found 
 
 * When I was at Seville, they found one morning on the gate of 
 Triana, beneath the description of Jos^ Maria, these words written in 
 pencil, " Signature of the above : Jos^ Maria." 
 
324 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 on a certain day in a lonely aldea where he had 
 a mistress. Castro, on the day indicated, 
 mounted his horse, and, in order not to excite 
 suspicion by bringing too many men into the 
 field, he took with him only four lancers. But 
 no matter how great the precaution exercised in 
 concealing his advance, he could not prevent 
 Jose Maria's learning of it. Just as Castro, 
 after having passed through a deep gorge, was 
 about to enter the valley in which was situated 
 the aldea of his enemy's mistress, twelve well- 
 mounted horsemen appeared on his flank much 
 nearer the gorge, which was the only way of 
 retreat. The lancers gave themselves up for 
 lost. A man mounted on a bay horse separated 
 himself from the group of robbers, and reined 
 up his horse sharply a hundred paces from 
 Castro. 
 
 " You can not surprise Jose Maria! " he cried. 
 " Captain Castro, what have I done that you 
 wish to give me up to justice? I might kill you, 
 but men of feeling have become rare, and I will 
 spare your life. Here is a souvenir that will 
 teach you to avoid me. Look out for your 
 helmet." 
 
 So speaking, he took aim, and sent a ball 
 through the captain's helmet. The next instant, 
 wheeling his horse about, he disappeared. 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 325 
 
 Yet another instance of his courtesy. A 
 wedding was being celebrated on a farm near 
 Andujar. The bride and bridegroom had al- 
 ready received their friends' congratulations, 
 and they were just going to sit down to the wed- 
 ding-feast under a great fig-tree in front of the 
 house. Every one was in the best of spirits, and 
 the perfume of jasmine and orange flowers 
 mingled pleasantly with the more substantial 
 fragrance of the abundant viands which covered 
 the table. Suddenly a man appeared on horse- 
 back, from out a little clump of trees, a pistol- 
 shot from the house. The stranger sprang 
 lightly to the ground, waved his hand to the 
 guests and led his horse around to the stable. 
 No other guest was expected, but in Spain 
 every one who passes by is welcome to share a 
 feast. Moreover, the stranger, to judge from 
 his dress, was a man of importance. The bride- 
 groom at once stepped forward to invite him 
 to the dinner. 
 
 While the guests were whispering together 
 and asking who the stranger could be, the notary 
 from Andalusia, who was present at the wedding, 
 became pale as death. He tried to rise from 
 the chair which he was occupying near the bride; 
 but his knees knocked together and his legs 
 trembled so that he could scarcely bear the 
 
326 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 weight of his body. One of the guests who had 
 long been suspected of being a smuggler ap- 
 proached the bride : 
 
 " That is Jose Maria," he said. " I am 
 greatly mistaken if he is not here for some mis- 
 chief {para hacer una muerta). He has a 
 grudge against the notary." 
 
 " But what is to be done? Help him to 
 escape? " 
 
 " Impossible ! Jose Maria would overtake 
 him in no time." 
 
 " Arrest the brigand? " 
 
 "His band is doubtless nearby; besides, he 
 has his pistols at his belt, and his dagger never 
 leaves him." 
 
 " But teU us, notary, what did you do to 
 him?" 
 
 "Alas! nothing, absolutely nothing!" 
 
 Some one whispered that the notary had 
 told his farmer two months before that if Jose 
 Maria ever came to ask for a drink he must put 
 a good strong dose of arsenic in the wine. 
 
 They were still consulting together, without 
 beginning the olla, when the stranger reap- 
 peared, followed by the bridegroom. There 
 could no longer be any doubt — it was Jose Maria. 
 As he passed by the notary he cast upon him so 
 fierce a glance that the wretched man began to 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 327 
 
 shiver as if he had a chill. Then he very grace- 
 fully saluted the bride and asked permission to 
 dance at the wedding. She was very careful not 
 to refuse, or to show him any but a friendly coim- 
 tenance. Jose Maria at once took an oaken 
 stool, drew it up to the table, and without cere- 
 mony seated himself beside the bride, between 
 her and the notary, who seemed on the point of 
 fainting. 
 
 The feast was begun. Jose Maria showed 
 his hostess every little attention and courtesy. 
 When a fine wine was served, the bride taking 
 a glass of MontiUa (which to my mind is better 
 than Xeres), touched it to her lips, and offered 
 it to the bandit. This is a mark of honour, 
 shown at table to persons whom it is particularly 
 desired to single out for attention. They call it 
 una fineza. Unfortunately, this usage is dying 
 out in good society, eager here as elsewhere to 
 despoil itself of all national customs. 
 
 Jose Maria took the glass, thanked the bride 
 most profusely, and declared that his hope was 
 that she would consider him her servant and that 
 it would afford him the greatest pleasure to do 
 anything that she commanded. 
 
 Then, trembling with fear, she leaned over 
 toward her terrible neighbour and timidly whis- 
 pered in his ear: 
 
328 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 " Grant me one favour? " 
 
 " A thousand," cried Jose Maria. 
 
 " Forget, I beg you, the grudge which you 
 have perchance brought here. Promise me that 
 for love of me you will pardon your enemies and 
 that there will be no scandal at my wedding." 
 
 " Notary," said Jose Maria, turning toward 
 the trembling limb of the law, " you must thank 
 this lady. But for her I would have killed you 
 before you had time to digest your dinner. 
 Don't be afraid, however; I'U not a harm a hair 
 of your head." 
 
 And, pouring out a glass of wine, he added 
 with a shghtly mahcious simle: " Come, notary, 
 drink to my health. This wine is good and it is 
 not poisoned." 
 
 The wretched notary felt as if he were swal- 
 lowing a hundred pins. 
 
 "Come, children!" cried the brigand, "let 
 us be merry! {Vaga de droma!) Long life to 
 the bride!" 
 
 And quickly rising, he ran to find a guitar, 
 and began to improvise a couplet in honour of 
 the bride and groom. 
 
 In short, during the rest of the dinner and 
 the ball which followed, he made himself so 
 agreeable that there were tears in the women's 
 eyes as they thought that so delightful a lad 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 320 
 
 might some day end on the gallows. He 
 danced, he sang, he was all things to all men. 
 Toward midnight, a little girl about twelve years 
 old, half clad in miserable rags, went up to Jose 
 Maria and said a few words to him in the lan- 
 guage of the gypsies. Jose Maria started ; then 
 he hastened to the stable, whence he immediately 
 returned bringing with him his good horse. 
 Then, with the bridle over his arm, he stepped 
 up to the bride: 
 
 " Farewell," said he, " child of my soul 
 (hija de mi alma). Never shall I forget the 
 moments I have spent by your side ; they are the 
 happiest since many a long year. Will you be 
 gracious enough to accept this trifle from a poor 
 scamp who woiild be glad to have a mine to 
 give to you? " At the same time he presented 
 her with a beautiful ring. 
 
 " Jose Maria," cried the bride, " as long as 
 there is a crust of bread in this house you may 
 claim one half." 
 
 The robber shook hands with all the guests, 
 even with the notary, kissed all the women; then 
 hghtly swinging himself into his saddle he went 
 back to his mountains. Then only did the no- 
 tary breathe freely. Half an hour later a de- 
 tachment of soldiers arrived. But no one had 
 seen the man for whom they were looking. 
 
330 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 The Spanish common people, who know by 
 heart the ballads of the Douze Pairs, who sing 
 the exploits of Renaud de Montauban, must of 
 necessit}'' be greatly interested in the only man 
 who in an age as prosaic as that in which we Uve, 
 is the embodiment of the knightly virtues of 
 the heroes of old. Still another reason adds to 
 the popularity of Jose Maria; he is very open- 
 handed. INIoney is easily gained and he spends 
 it very freely upon the unfortunate. Never, it is 
 said, has a poor man applied to him without 
 receiving abundant charity. 
 
 A muleteer told me that having lost his mule, 
 his only means of livelihood, he was going to 
 drown himself in the Guadalquivir, when a box 
 containing six ovmces of gold was handed to his 
 wife by some unknown person. He never 
 doubted that it was a present from Jose Maria, 
 to whom he had pointed out a ford one day when 
 he was hard pressed by some soldiers who were 
 pursuing him. 
 
 I will finish this long letter with another in- 
 stance of the charity of my hero. 
 
 A certain poor pedler from around about 
 CampeUo de Arenas was taking a load of vin- 
 egar to town. This vinegar was contained in 
 leathern bottles, as is the custom of the coun- 
 try, and carried by a little thin ass, with its hair 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 331 
 
 all rubbed off and half dead with hunger. In 
 a narrow path a stranger, who from his costume 
 one would take for a hunter, met the vinegar- 
 seller and as soon as he saw the donkey burst out 
 laughing. 
 
 " What scarecrow is that that you have got, 
 friend? " cried he. " You look as if you were 
 going to take part in a carnival. The animal is 
 a perfect joke." 
 
 And he kept on laughing. 
 
 " Sir," the man answered sadly, cut to the 
 quick, " this beast, ugly as though may be, 
 earns me my bread. I am down in my luck and 
 I have no money to buy another." 
 
 " What," cried the jester, " this dreadful 
 little donkey keeps you from dying of hvinger? 
 But it won't hold out for more than a week. 
 Here," he continued, handing him a rather 
 heavy bag, " old Herrera has a fine mule to sell; 
 it is worth fifteen hvmdred reals. You will find 
 that sum in this. Buy the mule without delay 
 to-day, and don't haggle over the price. If I 
 find you to-morrow on the road with this fright- 
 ful little donkey, as sure as my name is Jose 
 Maria, I'll heave you both over the side of the 
 precipice." The donkey driver, when he found 
 himself alone with the bag in his hand, thought 
 that he must be dreaming. The fifteen himdred 
 
332 LETTERS FROM SPAIN 
 
 reals were there, however, and no mistake in the 
 counting. He knew that Jose Maria was a man 
 of his word and he hastened to Herrera's and 
 exchanged his reals for a fine mule. 
 
 The next night Herrera wakened with a start. 
 Two men stood over him with a dagger and a 
 dark lantern. 
 
 " Come, out with your money — quick! " 
 
 " Alas, my good sirs, I have not a quarto in 
 the house." 
 
 " That is a lie ; you sold a mule for fifteen 
 hundred reals, which sum a certain man in Cam- 
 pillo paid over to you." 
 
 They brought forward arguments that were 
 so irresistible that the fifteen hundred reals were 
 soon surrendered, or if you prefer it, retximed. 
 
 P. S. — Jose Maria died some years ago. In 
 1833, upon the occasion of the coronation of the 
 young queen, Isabella, King Ferdinand issued 
 a general amnesty, of which the celebrated ban- 
 dit wished to take advantage. The Government 
 even gave him a pension of two reals a day if 
 he would keep the peace. As this sum was not 
 siifficient for the needs of a man who had many 
 elegant vices, he was obliged to accept a posi- 
 tion offered him by the Diligence company. He 
 became escopetero and saw to it that the coaches, 
 
LETTERS FROM SPAIN 333 
 
 which he had so often ransacked, were carefully 
 respected. All went well for a time. His old 
 comrades feared or spared him. But one day 
 some unusually resolute bandits stopped the 
 diligence from Seville, although Jose Maria waa 
 with it. He harangued them from the box-seat ; 
 and the influence which he had over his old ac- 
 comphces was such that they seemed disposed to 
 withdraw without violence, when the leader of 
 the robbers, known by the name of " Gypsy " 
 {el Gitano), formerly a Ueutenant of Jose 
 Maria's, went close up to him, fired on him, and 
 Idlled him instantly.