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[from U.S. translation, Leypoldt & Holt 1867; repub. Holt 1878]
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AS she was evidently backward in falling into his arms, Fougas imitated Mahomet, and ran to the mountain.
"Oh, Clementine!" said he, covering her with kisses, "the friendly Fates give you back to my devotion. I clasp once more the partner of my life and the mother of my child!"
The young lady was so astounded, that she did not even dream of defending herself. Happily, Leon Renault extricated her from the hands of the Colonel, and placed himself between them, determined to defend his own.
"Monsieur," cried he, clenching his fists, "you deceive yourself entirely, if you think you know Mademoiselle. She is not a person of your time, but our ours; she is not your fiancée, but mine; she has never been the mother of your child, and I trust that she will be the mother of mine!"
Fougas was iron. He seized his rival by the arm, sent him off spinning like a top, and put himself face to face with the young girl.
"Are you Clementine?" he demanded of her.
"Yes, Monsieur."
"I call you all to witness that she is my Clementine!"
Leon returned to the charge, and seized the Colonel by the collar, at the risk of getting himself dashed against the walls.
"We've had joking enough!" said he. "Possibly you don't pretend to monopolize all the Clementines in the world? Mademoiselle's name is Clementine Sambucco; she was born at Martinique, where you never set your foot, if I am to believe what you have said within an hour. She is eighteen years old---- "
"So was the other!"
"Eh! The other is sixty-four to-day, since she was eighteen in 1813. Mlle. Sambucco is of an honorable and well-known family. Her father, M. Sambucco, was a magistrate; her grandfather was a functionary of the war department. You see, she is in no way connected with you, nearly or remotely; and good sense and politeness, to say nothing of gratitude, make it your duty to leave her in peace."
He gave the Colonel a shove, in his turn, and made him tumble between the arms of a sofa.
Fougas bounded up as if he had been thrown on a million springs. But Clementine stopped him, with a gesture and a smile.
"Monsieur," said she in her most caressing voice, "do not get angry with him; he loves me."
"So much the more reason why I should! Damnation!"
He cooled down, nevertheless, made the young lady sit down beside him, and regarded her from head to foot with the most absorbed attention.
"This is surely she," said he. "My memory, my eyes, my heart, everything in me, recognizes her, and tells me that it is she. And nevertheless the testimony of mankind, the calculation of times and distances, in a word, the very soul of evidence, seems to have made it a special point to convict me of error."
"Is it possible, then, that two women should so resemble each other? Am I the victim of an illusion of the senses? Have I recovered life only to lose reason? No; I know myself, I find myself the same; my judgment is firm and accurate, and can make its way in this world so new and topsy-turvy. It is on but one point that my reason wavers -- Clementine! -- I seem to see you again, and you are not you! Well, what's the difference, after all? If the Destiny which snatched me from the tomb has taken care to present to my awaking sense the image of her I loved, it must be because it had resolved to give me back, one after another, all the blessings which I had lost. In a few days, my epaulettes; to-morrow, the flag of the 23d of the line; to-day this adorable presence which made my heart beat for the first time! Living image of all that is sweetest and dearest in the past, I throw myself at your feet! Be my wife!"
The devil of a fellow joined the deed to the word, and the witnesses of the unexpected scene opened their eyes to the widest. But Clementine's aunt, the austere Mlle. Sambucco, thought that it was time to show her authority. She stretched out her big, wrinkled hands, seized Fougas, jerked him sharply to his feet, and cried in her shrillest voice:
"Enough, sir; it is time to put an end to this scandalous farce! My niece is not for you; I have promised her and given her away. Know that, day after to-morrow, the 19th of this month, at ten o'clock in the morning, she will marry M. Leon Renault, your benefactor!"
"And I forbid it -- do you hear, Madame Aunt? And if she pretends to marry this boy----"
"What will you do?"
"I'll curse her!"
Leon could not help laughing. The malediction of
this twenty-five- “Monsieur," cried she, kissing his hands, "do not
overwhelm a poor girl who venerates you, who loves you, who will
sacrifice her happiness if you demand it! By all the marks of
tenderness which I have lavished upon you for a month, by the
tears I have poured upon your coffin, by the respectful zeal with
which I have urged on your resuscitation, I conjure you to pardon
our offences. I will not marry Leon if you forbid me; I will do
anything to please you; I will obey you in everything; but, for
God's sake, do not pour upon me your maledictions!"
"Embrace me," said Fougas. "You yield; I pardon."
Clementine raised herself, all radiant with joy,
and held up her beautiful forehead. The stupefaction of the
spectators, especially of those most interested, can be better
imagined than described. An old mummy dictating laws, breaking
off marriages, and imposing his desires on the whole house!
Pretty little Clementine, so reasonable, so obedient, so happy in
the prospect of marrying Leon Renault, sacrificing, all at once,
her affections, her happiness, and almost her duty, to the
caprice of an interloper. M. Nibor declared that it was madness.
As for Leon, he would have butted his head into all the walls, if
his mother had not held him back.
"Ah, my poor child!" said she, "why did you bring
that thing from Berlin?"
"It's my fault!" cried old Monsieur Renault.
"No," interrupted Dr. Martout, "it's mine."
The members of the Parisian committee discussed
with M. Rollon the new aspect of the case. "Had they
resuscitated a madman? Had the revivification produced some
disorder of the nervous system? Had the abuse of wine and other
drinkables during the first repast caused a delirium? What an
interesting autopsy it would be, if they could dissect M. Fougas
at the next regular meeting!"
"You would do very well as far as you would go,
gentlemen," said the Colonel of the 23d. "The autopsy might
explain the delirium of our unfortunate friend, but it would not
account for the impression produced upon the young lady. Is it
fascination, magnetism, or what?"
While the friends and relations were weeping,
counselling, and buzzing around him, Fougas, serene and smiling,
gazed at himself in Clementine's eyes, while they, too, regarded
him tenderly.
"This must be brought to an end!" cried Mlle.
Sambucco the severe. "Come, Clementine!"
Fougas seemed surprised.
"She doesn't live here, then?"
"No, sir; she lives with me."
"Then I will escort her home. Angel! will you
take my arm?"
"Oh, yes, Monsieur, with great pleasure!"
Leon gnashed his teeth.
"This is admirable! He presumes on such
familiarity, and she takes it all as a matter of course!"
He went to get his hat, for the purpose of, at
least, going home with the aunt, but his hat was not in its
place; Fougas, who had not yet one of his own, had helped himself
to it without ceremony. The poor lover crowded his head into a
cap, and followed Fougas and Clementine, with the respectable
Virginie, whose arm cut like a scythe.
By an accident which happened almost daily, the
Colonel of cuirassiers met Clementine on the way home. The young
lady directed Fougas' attention to him.
"That's M. du Marnet," said she. "His restaurant
is at the end of our street, and his room at the side of the
park. I think he is very much taken with my little self, but he
has never even bowed to me. The only man for whom my heart has
ever beaten is Leon Renault."
"Ah, indeed! And me?" said Fougas.
"Oh! as for you, that's another matter. I respect
you, and stand in awe of you. It seems to me as if you were a
good and respectable parent."
"Thank you!"
"I'm telling you the truth, as far as I can read
it in my heart. All this is not very clear, I confess, but I do
not understand myself."
"Azure flower of innocence, I adore your sweet
perplexity! Let love take care of itself; it will speak to you
in master tones."
"I don't know anything about that; it's possible!
Here we are at home. Good evening, Monsieur; embrace me. -- Good
night, Leon; don't quarrel with M. Fougas. I love him with all
my heart, but I love you in a different way!"
The aunt Virginie made no response to the "Good
evening" of Fougas. When the two men were alone in the street,
Leon marched along without saying a word, till they reached the
next lamp-post. There, planting himself resolutely opposite the
Colonel, he said,
"Well, sir, now that we are alone, we had better
have an explanation. I don't know by what philter or incantation
you have obtained such prodigious influence over my betrothed;
but I know that I love her, that I have been loved by her more
than four years, and that I will not stop at any means of
retaining and protecting her."
"Friend," answered Fougas, "you can brave me with
impunity; my arm is chained by gratitude. It shall never be
written in history that Pierre Fougas was an ingrate!"
"Would it have been more ungrateful in you to cut
my throat, than to rob me of my wife?"
"Oh, my benefactor! Learn to understand and
pardon! God forbid that I should marry Clementine in spite of
you, in spite of herself. It is through her consent and your own
that I hope to win her. Realize that she has been dear to me,
not for four years, as to you, but for nearly half a century.
Reflect that I am alone on earth, and that her sweet face is my
only consolation. Will you, who have given me life, prevent my
spending it happily? Have you called me back to the world only
to deliver me over to despair? -- Tiger! Take back, then, the
life you gave me, if you will not permit me to consecrate it to
the adorable Clementine!"
"Upon my soul, my dear fellow, you are superb!
The habit of victory must have totally twisted your wits. My hat
is on your head: -- keep it; so far so good. But because my
betrothed happens to remind you vaguely of a girl in Nancy, must
I give her up to you? I can't see it!"
"Friend, I will give you back your hat just as
soon as you've bought me another one; but do not ask me to give
up Clementine. In the first place, do you know that she will
reject me?"
"I'm sure of it."
"She loves me."
"You're crazy!"
"You've see her at my feet."
"What of that? It was from fear, from respect,
from superstition, from anything in the devil's name you choose
to call it; but it was not from love."
"We'll see about that pretty clearly, after six
months of married life."
"But," cried Leon Renault, "have you the right to
dispose of yourself? There is another Clementine, the true one;
she has sacrificed everything for you; you are engaged, in honor,
to her. Is Colonel Fougas deaf to the voice of honor?"
"Are you mocking me? What! I marry a woman
sixty-four years old?"
"You ought to; if not for her sake, at least for
your child's"
"My child is a pretty big boy. He's forty-six
years old; he has no further need of my care."
"He does need your name, though."
"I'll adopt him."
"The law is opposed to it. You're not fifty years
old, and he's not fifteen years younger than you are; quite the
reverse!"
"Very well; I'll legitimize him by marrying the
young Clementine."
"How can you expect her to acknowledge a child
twice as old as she is herself?"
"But then I can't acknowledge him any better; so
there's no need of my marrying the old woman. Moreover, I'd be
excessively accommodating to break my head for a child who is
very likely dead. What do I say? It is possible that he never
saw the light. I love and am loved -- that much is substantial
and certain; and you shall be my groomsman."
"Not yet awhile. Mlle. Sambucco is a minor, and
her guardian is my father."
"Your father is an honorable man; and he will not
have the baseness to refuse her to me."
"At least he will ask you if you have any
position, any rank, any fortune to offer to his ward."
"My position? colonel; my rank? colonel; my
fortune? the pay of a colonel. And the millions at Dantzic -- I
mustn't forget them! -- Here we are at home; let me have the will
of that good old gentleman who wore the lilac wig. Give me some
books on history, too -- a big pile of them -- all that have
anything to say about Napoleon."
Young Renault sadly obeyed the master he had given
himself. He conducted Fougas to a fine chamber, brought him Herr
Meiser's will and a whole shelf of books, and bid his mortal
enemy "Good night." The Colonel embraced him impetuously, and
said to him,
"I will never forget that to you I owe life and
Clementine. Farewell till to-morrow, noble and generous child of
my native land! farewell!"
Leon went back to the ground floor, passed the
dining-room, where Gothon was wiping the glasses and putting the
silver in order, and rejoined his father and mother, who were
waiting for him in the parlor. The guests were gone, the candles
extinguished. A single lamp lit up the solitude. The two
mandarins on the étagère were motionless in their
obscure corner, and seemed to meditate gravely on the caprices of
fortune.
"Well?" demanded Mme. Renault.
"I left him in his room, crazier and more
obstinate than ever. However, I've got an idea."
"So much the better," said the father, "for we
have none left. Sadness has made us stupid. But, above all
things, no quarrelling. These soldiers of the empire used to be
terrible swordsmen."
"Oh, I'm not afraid of him! It's Clementine that
makes me anxious. With what sweetness and submission she
listened to the confounded babbler!"
"The heart of woman is an unfathomable abyss.
Well, what do you think of doing?"
Leon developed in detail the project he had
conceived in the street, during his conversation with Fougas.
"The most urgent thing," said he, "is to relieve
Clementine from this influence. If we could get him out of the
way to-morrow, reason would resume its empire, and we would be
married the day after to-morrow. That being done, I'll answer
for the rest."
"But how is such a madman to be gotten rid of?"
"I see but one way, but it is almost infallible --
to excite his dominant passion. These fellows sometimes imagine
that they are in love, but, at the bottom, they love nothing but
powder. The thing is, to fling Fougas back into the current of
military ideas. His breakfast to-morrow with the colonel of the
23d will be a good preparation. I made him understand to-day
that he ought, before all, to reclaim his rank and epaulettes,
and he has become inoculated with the idea. He'll go to Paris,
then. Possibly he'll find there some leather-breeches of his
acquaintance. At all events, he'll reënter the service.
The occupations incident to his position will be a powerful
diversion; he'll no longer dream of Clementine, whom I will have
fixed securely. We will have to furnish him the wherewithal to
knock about the world; but all sacrifices of money are nothing in
comparison with the happiness I wish to save."
Madame Renault, who was a woman of thrift, blamed
her son's generosity a little.
"The Colonel is an ungrateful soul," said she.
"We've already done too much in giving him back his life. Let
him take care of himself now!"
"No," said the father; "we've not the right to
send him forth entirely empty-handed. Decency forbids."
This deliberation, which had lasted a good hour
and a quarter, was interrupted by a tremendous racket. One would
have declared that the house was falling down.
"There he is again!" cried Leon. "Undoubtedly a
fresh paroxysm of raving madness!"
He ran, followed by his parents, and mounted the
steps four at a time. A candle was burning at the sill of the
chamber door. Leon took it, and pushed the door half open.
Must it be confessed? Hope and joy spoke louder
to him than fear. He fancied himself already relieved of the
Colonel. But the spectacle presented to his eyes suddenly
diverted the course of his ideas, and the inconsolable lover
began laughing like a fool. A noise of kicks, blows, and slaps;
an undefined group rolling on the floor in the convulsions of a
desperate struggle -- so much was all he could see and understand
at the first glance. Soon Fougas, lit up by the ruddy glow of
the candle, discovered that he was struggling with Gothon, like
Jacob with the angel, and went back, confused and pitiable, to
bed.
The Colonel had gone to sleep over the history of
Napoleon, without putting out the candle. Gothon, after
finishing her work, saw the light under the door. Her thoughts
recurred to that poor Baptiste, who, perhaps, was groaning in
purgatory for having let himself tumble from a roof. Hoping that
Fougas could give her some news of her lover, she rapped several
times, at first softly, then much louder. The Colonel's silence
and the lighted candle made it seem to the servant that there was
something wrong. The fire might catch the curtains, and from
thence the whole building. She accordingly set down the candle,
opened the door, and went, with cat-like steps, to put out the
light. Possibly the eyes of the sleeper vaguely perceived the
passage of a shadow; possibly Gothon, with her big, awkward
figure, made a board in the floor creak. Fougas partially awoke,
heard the rustling of a dress, dreamed it one of those adventures
which were wont to spice garrison life under the first empire,
and held out his arms blindly, calling Clementine. Gothon, on
finding herself seized by the hair and shoulders, responded by
such a masculine blow that the enemy supposed himself attacked by
a man. The blow was returned with interest; further exchanges
followed, and they finished by clinching and rolling on the
floor.
If anybody ever did feel shamefaced, Fougas was
certainly the man. Gothon went to bed, considerably bruised; the
Renault family talked sense into the Colonel, and got out of him
pretty much what they wanted. He promised to set out next day,
accepted as a loan the money offered him, and swore not to return
until he should have recovered his epaulettes and secured the
Dantzic bequest.
"And then," said he, "I'll marry Clementine."
On that point it was useless to argue with him;
the idea was fixed.
Everybody slept soundly in the mansion of the
Renaults; the heads of the house, because they had had three
sleepless nights; Fougas and Gothon, because each had been
unmercifully pummelled; and the young Célestin, because he
had drunk the heel-taps from all the glasses.
The next morning M. Rollon came to know if Fougas
were in a condition to breakfast with him; he feared, just the
least bit, that he would find him under a shower bath. Far from
it! The madman of yesterday was as calm as a picture and as
fresh as a rosebud. He shaved with Leon's razors, while humming
an air of Nicolo. With his hosts, he was charming, and he
promised to settle a pension on Gothon out of Herr Meiser's
legacy.
As soon as he had set off for the breakfast, Leon
ran to the dwelling of his sweetheart.
"Everything is going better," said he. "The
Colonel is much more reasonable. He has promised to leave for
Paris this very day; so we can get married to-morrow."
Mlle. Virginie Sambucco praised this plan of
proceeding highly, not only because she had made great
preparations for the wedding, but because the postponement of the
marriage would be the talk of the town. The cards were already
out, the major notified, and the Virgin's chapel, in the parish
church, engaged. To revoke all this at the caprice of a ghost
and a fool, would be to sin against custom, common sense, and
Heaven itself.
Clementine only replied with tears. She could not
be happy without marrying Leon, but she would rather die, she
said, than give her hand without the sanction of M. Fougas. She
promised to implore him, on her knees if necessary, and wring
from him his consent.
"But if he refuses? And it's too likely that he
will!"
"I will beseech him again and again, until he says
yes."
Everybody conspired to convince her that she was
unreasonable -- her aunt, Leon, M. and Mme. Renault, M. Martout,
M. Bonnivet, and all the friends of the two families. At length
she yielded, but, at almost the same instant, the door flew open,
and M. Audret rushed into the parlor, crying out,
"Well, well! here is a piece of news!
Colonel Fougas is going to fight M. du Marnet to-morrow."
The young girl fell, thunderstruck, into the arms
of Leon Renault.
"God punishes me!" cried she; "and the
chastisement for my impiety is not delayed. Will you still force
me to obey you? Shall I be dragged to the altar, in spite of
myself, at the very hour he's risking his life?"
No one dared to insist longer, on seeing her in so
pitiable a state. But Leon offered up earnest prayers that
victory might side with the colonel of cuirassiers. He was
wrong, I confess; but what lover would have been sinless enough
to cast the first stone at him?
And here is an account of how the precious Fougas
had spent his day.
At ten o'clock in the morning, the youngest two
captains of the 23d came to conduct him in proper style to the
residence of the Colonel. M. Rollon occupied a little palace of
the imperial epoch. A marble tablet, inserted over the
porte-cochére, still bore the words, Ministère
des Finances -- a souvenir of the glorious time when
Napoleon's court followed its master to Fontainebleau.
Colonel Rollon, the lieutenant-colonel, the
major-in-chief, the three majors of battalions, the
surgeon-major, and ten or a dozen officers were outside, awaiting
the arrival of the illustrious guest from the other world. The
flag was placed in the middle of the court, under guard of the
ensign and a squad of non-commissioned officers selected for the
honor. The band of the regiment, at the entrance of the garden,
filled up the background of the picture. Eight panoplies of
arms, which had been improvised the same morning by the armorers
of the corps, embellished the walls and railings. A company of
grenadiers, with their arms at rest, were in attendance.
At the entrance of Fougas, the band played the
famous "Partant pour la Syrie;" the grenadiers presented
arms; the drums beat a salute; the non-commissioned officers and
soldiers cried, "Vive le Colonel Fougas!" the
officers, in a body, approached the patriarch of their regiment.
All this was neither regular nor according to discipline, but we
can well allow a little latitude to these brave soldiers on
finding their ancestor. For them it seemed a little debauch in
glory.
The hero of the fête grasped the
hands of the colonel and officers with as much emotion as if he
had found his old comrades again. He cordially saluted the
non-commissioned officers and soldiers approached the flag, bent
one knee to the earth, raised himself loftily, grasped the staff,
turned toward the attentive crowd, and said,
"My friends, under the shadow of the flag, a
soldier of France, after forty-six years of exile, finds his
family again to-day. All honor to thee, symbol of our
fatherland, old partner in our victories, and heroic support in
our misfortunes! Thy radiant eagle has hovered over prostrate
and trembling Europe. Thy bruised eagle has again dashed
obstinately against misfortune, and terrified the sons of Power.
Honor to thee, thou who hast led us to glory, and fortified us
against the clamor of despair! I have seen thee ever foremost in
the fiercest dangers, proud flag of my native land! Men have
fallen around thee like grain before the reaper; while thou alone
hast shown to the enemy thy front unbending and superb. Bullets
and cannon-shot have torn thee with wounds, but never upon thee
has the audacious stranger placed his hands. May the future deck
thy front with new laurels! Mayst thou conquer new and
far-extending realms, which no fatality shall rob thee of! The
day of great deeds is being born again; believe a warrior, who
has risen from the tomb to tell thee so. 'Forward!' Yes, I swear
it by the spirit of him who led us at Wagram. There shall be
great days for France when thou shalt shelter with thy glorious
folds the fortunes of the brave 23d!"
Eloquence so martial and patriotic stirred all
hearts. Fougas was applauded, fêted, embraced, and almost
carried in triumph into the banquet hall.
Seated at table opposite M. Rollon, as if he were
a second master of the house, he breakfasted heartily, talked a
great deal, and drank more yet. You may occasionally meet, in
the world, people who get drunk without drinking. Fougas was far
from being one of them. He never felt his equanimity seriously
disturbed short of three bottles. Often, in fact, he went much
further without yielding.
The toasts presented at dessert were distinguished
for pith and cordiality. I would like to recount them in order,
but am forced to admit that they would take up too much room, and
that the last, which were the most touching, were not of a
lucidity absolutely Voltairian.
They arose from the table at two o'clock, and
betook themselves in a body to the Café Militaire,
where the officers of the 23d placed a punch before the two
colonels. They had invited, with a feeling of eminent propriety,
the superior officers of the regiment of cuirassiers.
Fougas, who was drunker, in his own proper person
than a whole battalion of Suisses, distributed a great
many hand-shakings. But across the storm which disturbed his
spirit, he recognized the person and name of M. du Marnet, and
made a grimace. Between officers, and, above all, between
officers of different arms of the service, politeness is a little
excessive, etiquette rather severe, amour-propre somewhat
susceptible. M. du Marnet, who was preëminently a man of
the world, understood at once, from the attitude of M. Fougas,
that he was not in the presence of a friend.
The punch appeared, blazing, went out with its
strength unimpaired, and was dispensed, with a big ladle, into
threescore glasses. Fougas drank with everybody, except M. du
Marnet. The conversation, which was erratic and noisy,
imprudently raised a question of comparative merits. An officer
of cuirassiers asked Fougas if he had seen Bordesoulle's splendid
charge, which flung the Austrians into the valley of Plauen.
Fougas had known General Bordesoulle personally, and had seen
with his own eyes the beautiful heavy cavalry manœuvre which
decided the victory of Dresden. But he chose to be disagreeable
to M. du Marnet, by affecting an air of ignorance or
indifference.
"In our time," said he, "the cavalry was always
brought into action after the battle; we employed it to bring in
the enemy after we had routed them."
Here a great outcry arose, and the glorious name
of Murat was thrown into the balance.
"Oh, doubtless -- doubtless!" said he, shaking his
head. "Murat was a good general in his limited sphere; he
answered perfectly for all that was wanted of him. But if the
cavalry had Murat, the infantry had Napoleon."
M. du Marnet observed, judiciously, that Napoleon,
if he must be seized upon for the credit of any single arm of the
service, would belong to the artillery.
"With all my heart, monsieur," replied Fougas;
"the artillery and the infantry. Artillery at a distance,
infantry at close quarters -- cavalry off at one side."
"Once more I beg your pardon," answered M. du
Marnet; "you mean to say, at the sides, which is a very different
matter."
"At the sides, or at one side, I don't care! As
for me, if I were commander-in-chief, I would set the cavalry
aside."
Several cavalry officers had already flung
themselves into the discussion. M. du Marnet held them back, and
made a sign that he wanted to answer Fougas alone.
"And why, then, if you please, would you set the
cavalry aside?"
"Because the dragoon is an incomplete soldier."
"Incomplete?"
"Yes, sir; and the proof is, that the Government
has to buy four or five hundred francs' worth of horse in order
to complete him. And when the horse receives a ball or a bayonet
thrust, the dragoon is no longer good for anything. Have you
ever seen a cavalryman on foot? It would be a pretty sight!"
"I see myself on foot every day, and I don't see
anything particularly ridiculous about it."
"I'm too polite to contradict you."
"And for me, sir, I am too just to combat one
paradox with another. What would you think of my logic, if I
were to say to you (the idea is not mine -- I found it in a
book), if I were to say to you, 'I entertain a high regard for
infantry, but, after all, the foot soldier is an incomplete
soldier, deprived of his birthright, an inefficient body deprived
of that natural complement of a soldier, called a horse! I
admire his courage, I perceive that he makes himself useful in
battle; but, after all, the poor devil has only two feet at his
command, while we have four!' You see fit to consider a dragoon
on foot ridiculous; but does the foot-soldier always make a very
brilliant appearance when one sticks a horse between his legs? I
have seen excellent infantry captains cruelly embarrassed when
the minister of war made them majors. They said, scratching
their heads, 'It's not over when we've mounted a grade; we've got
to mount a horse in the bargain!"
This crude pleasantry amused the audience for a
moment. They laughed, and the mustard mounted higher and higher
in Fougas' nose.
"In my time," said he, "a foot soldier became a
dragoon in twenty-four hours; and if any one would like to make a
match with me on horseback, sabre in hand, I'll show him what
infantry is!"
"Monsieur," coolly replied M. du Marnet, "I hope
that opportunities will not be lacking to you in the field of
battle. It is there that a true soldier displays his talents and
bravery. Infantry and cavalry, we alike belong to France. I
drink to her, Monsieur, and I hope you will not refuse to touch
glasses with me. -- To France!"
This was certainly well spoken and well settled.
The clicking of glasses applauded M. du Marnet. Fougas himself
approached his adversary and drank with him without reserve. But
he whispered in his ear, speaking very thickly:
"I hope, for my part, that you will not refuse the
sabre-match which I had the honor to propose to you?"
"As you please," said the colonel of cuirassiers.
The gentleman from the other world, drunker than
ever, went out of the crowd with two officers whom he had picked
up hap-hazard. He declared to them that he considered himself
insulted by M. du Marnet, that a challenge had been given and
accepted, and that the affair was going on swimmingly.
"Especially," added he in confidence, "since there
is a lady in the case! These are my conditions -- they are all
in accordance with the honor of the infantry, the army, and
France: we will fight on horseback, stripped to the waist,
mounted bareback on two stallions. The weapon -- the cavalry
sabre. First blood. I want to chastise a puppy. I am far from
wishing to rob France of a soldier."
These conditions were pronounced absurd by M. du
Marnet's seconds. They accepted them, nevertheless, for the
military code requires one to face all dangers, however absurd.
Fougas devoted the rest of the day to worrying the
poor Renaults. Proud of the control he exercised over
Clementine, he declared his wishes; swore he would take her for
his wife as soon as he had recovered his rank, family, and
fortune, and prohibited her to dispose of herself before that
time. He broke openly with Leon and his parents, refused to
accept their good offices any longer, and quitted their house
after a serious passage of high words. Leon concluded by saying
that he would only give up his betrothed with life itself. The
Colonel shrugged his shoulders and turned his back, carrying off,
without stopping to consider what he was doing, the father's
clothes and the son's hat. He asked M. Rollon for five hundred
francs, engaged a room at the Hotel du Cadron-bleu, went
to bed without any supper, and slept straight through until the
arrival of his seconds.
There was no necessity for giving him an account
of what had passed the previous day. The fogs of punch and sleep
dissipated themselves in an instant. He plunged his head and
hands into a basin of fresh water, and said:
"So much for my toilet! Now, Vive
l'Empereur! Let's go and get into line!"
The field selected by common consent was the
parade-ground -- a sandy plain enclosed in the forest, at
a good distance from the town. All the officers of the garrison
betook themselves there of their own accord; there would have
been no need of inviting them. More than one soldier went
secretly and billeted himself in a tree. The gendarmerie
itself ornamented the little family fête with its
presence. People went to see an encounter in chivalric tourney,
not merely the infantry and the cavalry, but between the old army
and the young. The exhibition fully satisfied public
expectation. No one was tempted to hiss the piece, and everybody
had his money's worth.
Precisely at nine o'clock, the combatants entered
the lists, attended by their four seconds and the umpire of the
field. Fougas, naked to the waist, was as handsome as a young
god. His lithe and agile figure, his proud and radiant features,
the manly grace of his movements, assured him a flattering
reception. He made his English horse caper, and saluted the
lookers-on with the point of his sword.
M. du Marnet, a man rather of the German type,
hardy, quite hairy, moulded like the Indian Bacchus, and not like
Achilles, showed in his countenance a slight shade of disgust.
It was not necessary to be a magician to understand that this
duel in naturalibus, under the eyes of his own officers,
appeared to him useless and even ridiculous. His horse was
half-blood from Perche, a vigorous beast and full of fire.
Fougas' seconds rode badly enough. They divided
their attention between the combat and their stirrups. M. du
Marnet had chosen the best two horsemen in his regiment, a major
and captain. The umpire of the field was Colonel Rollon, an
excellent rider.
At a signal given by Colonel Rollon, Fougas rode
directly at his adversary, presenting the point of his sabre in
the position of "prime," like a cavalry soldier charging infantry
in a hollow square. But he reined up about three lengths from M.
du Marnet, and described around him seven or eight rapid circles,
like an Arab in a play. M. du Marnet, being forced to turn in
the same spot and defend himself on all sides, clapped both spurs
to his horse, broke the circle, took to the field, and threatened
to commence the same manœuvre about Fougas. But the
gentleman from the other world did not wait for him. He rushed
off at a full gallop, and made a round of the hippodrome, always
followed by M. du Marnet. The cuirassier, being heavier, and
mounted on a slower house, was distanced. He revenged himself by
calling out to Fougas:
"Oh, Monsieur! I must say that this looks more
like a race than a battle. I ought to have brought a riding-whip
instead of a sword!"
But Fougas, panting and furious, had already
turned upon him.
"Hold on there!" cried he; "I have shown you the
horseman; now I will show you the soldier!"
He lanched a thrust at him, which would have gone
through him like a hoop if M. du Marnet had not been as prompt as
at parade. He retorted by a fine cut en quarte, powerful
enough to cut the invincible Fougas in two. But the other was
nimbler than a monkey. He wholly shielded his body by letting
himself slide to the ground, and then remounted his horse in the
same second.
"My compliments!" said M. du Marnet. "They don't
do any better than that in the circus."
"No more do they in war," rejoined the other.
"Ah, scoundrel! so you revile the old army? Here's at you! A
miss! Thanks for the retort, but it's not good enough yet. I'll
not die from any such thrust as that! How do you like that? --
and that? -- and that? Ah, you claim that the foot-soldier is an
incomplete man! Now we're going to make your assortment
of limbs a little incomplete. Look out for your boot! He's
parried it! Perhaps he expects to indulge in a little promenade
under Clementine's windows this evening. Take care! Here's for
Clementine! And here's for the infantry! Will you parry that?
So, traitor! And that? So he does! Perhaps you'll parry them
all, then, by Heavens! Victory! Ah, Monsieur! Your blood is
flowing! What have I done? Devil take the sword, the horse, and
all! Major! major! come quickly! Monsieur, let yourself rest in
my arms. Beast that I am! As if all soldiers were not brothers!
Oh, forgive me, my friend! Would that I could redeem each drop
of your blood with all of mine! Miserable Fougas, incapable of
mastering his fierce passions! Ah, you Esculapian Mars, I beg
you tell me that the thread of his days is not to be clipped! I
will not survive him, for he is a brave!"
M. du Marnet had received a magnificent cut which
traversed the left arm and breast, and the blood was streaming
from it at a rate to make one shudder. The surgeon, who had
provided himself with hemostatic preparations, hastened to arrest
the hemorrhage. The wound was long rather than deep, and could
be cured in a few days. Fougas himself carried his adversary to
the carriage, but that did not satisfy him. He firmly insisted
on joining the two officers who took M. du Marnet home; he
overwhelmed the wounded man with his protestations, and was
occupied during most of the ride in swearing eternal friendship
to him. On reaching the house, he put him to bed, embraced him,
bathed him with tears, and did not leave him for a moment until
he heard him snoring.
When six o'clock struck, he went to dine at the
hotel, in company with his seconds and the referee, all of whom
he had invited after the fight. He treated them magnificently,
and got drunk himself, as usual.
(End of Chapter 14)
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