Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Garrett Alley, and the Online DistributedProofreading Team.
The Exploits of BRIGADIER GERARD
SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
_This book is published by arrangement with the Estate of the late SirArthur Conan Doyle_
1896
BY SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE
_The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes__The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes__The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes__The Return of Sherlock Holmes__His Last Bow__The Hound of the Baskervilles__The Sign of Four__The Valley of Fear__Sir Nigel__The White Company__Micah Clarke__The Refugees__Rodney Stone__Uncle Bernac__Adventures of Gerard__The Exploits of Brigadier Gerard__The Lost World__The Tragedy of the Korosko_
OMNIBUS VOLUMES
_Great Stories__The Conan Doyle Stories__The Sherlock Holmes Short Stories__The Sherlock Holmes Long Stories__The Historical Romances__The Complete Professor Challenger Stories__The Complete Napoleonic Stories_
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_The Life of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle_
by John Dickson Carr
* * * * *
CONTENTS
1. How the Brigadier came to the Castle of Gloom
2. How the Brigadier slew the brothers of Ajaccio
3. How the Brigadier held the King
4. How the King held the Brigadier
5. How the Brigadier took the field against the Marshal Millefleurs
6. How the Brigadier played for a kingdom
7. How the Brigadier won his Medal
8. How the Brigadier was tempted by the Devil
1. HOW THE BRIGADIER CAME TO THE CASTLE OF GLOOM[A]
You do very well, my friends, to treat me with some little reverence,for in honouring me you are honouring both France and yourselves. It isnot merely an old, grey-moustached officer whom you see eating hisomelette or draining his glass, but it is a fragment of history. In meyou see one of the last of those wonderful men, the men who wereveterans when they were yet boys, who learned to use a sword earlierthan a razor, and who during a hundred battles had never once let theenemy see the colour of their knapsacks. For twenty years we wereteaching Europe how to fight, and even when they had learned theirlesson it was only the thermometer, and never the bayonet, which couldbreak the Grand Army down. Berlin, Naples, Vienna, Madrid, Lisbon,Moscow--we stabled our horses in them all. Yes, my friends, I say againthat you do well to send your children to me with flowers, for theseears have heard the trumpet calls of France, and these eyes have seenher standards in lands where they may never be seen again.
Even now, when I doze in my arm-chair, I can see those great warriorsstream before me--the green-jacketed chasseurs, the giant cuirassiers,Poniatowsky's lancers, the white-mantled dragoons, the nodding bearskinsof the horse grenadiers. And then there comes the thick, low rattle ofthe drums, and through wreaths of dust and smoke I see the line of highbonnets, the row of brown faces, the swing and toss of the long, redplumes amid the sloping lines of steel. And there rides Ney with his redhead, and Lefebvre with his bulldog jaw, and Lannes with his Gasconswagger; and then amidst the gleam of brass and the flaunting feathers Icatch a glimpse of _him_, the man with the pale smile, the roundedshoulders, and the far-off eyes. There is an end of my sleep, myfriends, for up I spring from my chair, with a cracked voice calling anda silly hand outstretched, so that Madame Titaux has one more laugh atthe old fellow who lives among the shadows.
Although I was a full Chief of Brigade when the wars came to an end, andhad every hope of soon being made a General of Division, it is stillrather to my earlier days that I turn when I wish to talk of the gloriesand the trials of a soldier's life. For you will understand that when anofficer has so many men and horses under him, he has his mind full ofrecruits and remounts, fodder and farriers, and quarters, so that evenwhen he is not in the face of the enemy, life is a very serious matterfor him. But when he is only a lieutenant or a captain he has nothingheavier than his epaulettes upon his shoulders, so that he can clink hisspurs and swing his dolman, drain his glass and kiss his girl, thinkingof nothing save of enjoying a gallant life. That is the time when he islikely to have adventures, and it is often to that time that I shallturn in the stories which I may have for you. So it will be tonight whenI tell you of my visit to the Castle of Gloom; of the strange mission ofSub-Lieutenant Duroc, and of the horrible affair of the man who was onceknown as Jean Carabin, and afterwards as the Baron Straubenthal.
You must know, then, that in the February of 1807, immediately after thetaking of Danzig, Major Legendre and I were commissioned to bring fourhundred remounts from Prussia into Eastern Poland.
The hard weather, and especially the great battle at Eylau, had killedso many of the horses that there was some danger of our beautiful Tenthof Hussars becoming a battalion of light infantry. We knew, therefore,both the Major and I, that we should be very welcome at the front. Wedid not advance very rapidly, however, for the snow was deep, the roadsdetestable, and we had but twenty returning invalids to assist us.Besides, it is impossible, when you have a daily change of forage, andsometimes none at all, to move horses faster than a walk. I am awarethat in the story-books the cavalry whirls past at the maddest ofgallops; but for my own part, after twelve campaigns, I should be verysatisfied to know that my brigade could always walk upon the march andtrot in the presence of the enemy. This I say of the hussars andchasseurs, mark you, so that it is far more the case with cuirassiers ordragoons.
For myself I am fond of horses, and to have four hundred of them, ofevery age and shade and character, all under my own hands, was a verygreat pleasure to me. They were from Pomerania for the most part, thoughsome were from Normandy and some from Alsace, and it amused us to noticethat they differed in character as much as the people of thoseprovinces. We observed also, what I have often proved since, that thenature of a horse can be told by his colour, from the coquettish lightbay, full of fancies and nerves, to the hardy chestnut, and from thedocile roan to the pig-headed rusty-black. All this has nothing in theworld to do with my story, but how is an officer of cavalry to get onwith his tale when he finds four hundred horses waiting for him at theoutset? It is my habit, you see, to talk of that which interests myselfand so I hope that I may interest you.
We crossed the Vistula opposite Marienwerder, and had got as far asRiesenberg, when Major Legendre came into my room in the post-house withan open paper in his hand.
'You are to leave me,' said he, with despair upon his face.
It was no very great grief to me to do that, for he was, if I may sayso, hardly worthy to have such a subaltern. I saluted, however, insilence.
'It is an order from General Lasalle,' he continued; 'you are toproceed to Rossel instantly, and to report yourself at the headquartersof the regiment.'
No message could have pleased me better. I was already very well thoughtof by my superior officers. It was evident to me, therefore, that thissudden order meant that the regiment was about to see service once more,and that Lasalle understood how incomplete my squadron would be withoutme. It is true that it came at an inconvenient moment, for the keeper ofthe post-house had a daughter--one of those ivory-skinned, black-hairedPolish girls--with whom I had hoped to have some further talk. Still, itis not for the pawn to argue when the fingers of the player move himfrom the square; so down I went, saddled my big black charger, Rataplan,and set off instantly upon my lonely journey.
My word, it was a treat for those poor Poles and Jews, who have solittle to brighten their dull lives, to see such a picture as thatbefore their doors! The frosty morning air made Rataplan's great blacklimbs and the beautiful curves of his back and sides gleam and shimmerwith every gambade.
As for me, the rattle of hoofs upon a road, and thejingle of bridle chains which comes with every toss of a saucy head,would even now set my blood dancing through my veins. You may think,then, how I carried myself in my five-and-twentieth year--I, EtienneGerard, the picked horseman and surest blade in the ten regiments ofhussars. Blue was our colour in the Tenth--a sky-blue dolman and pelissewith a scarlet front--and it was said of us in the army that we couldset a whole population running, the women towards us, and the men away.There were bright eyes in the Riesenberg windows that morning whichseemed to beg me to tarry; but what can a soldier do, save to kiss hishand and shake his bridle as he rides upon his way?
It was a bleak season to ride through the poorest and ugliest country inEurope, but there was a cloudless sky above, and a bright, cold sun,which shimmered on the huge snowfields. My breath reeked into thefrosty air, and Rataplan sent up two feathers of steam from hisnostrils, while the icicles drooped from the side-irons of his bit. Ilet him trot to warm his limbs, while for my own part I had too much tothink of to give much heed to the cold. To north and south stretched thegreat plains, mottled over with dark clumps of fir and lighter patchesof larch. A few cottages peeped out here and there, but it was onlythree months since the Grand Army had passed that way, and you know whatthat meant to a country. The Poles were our friends, it was true, butout of a hundred thousand men, only the Guard had waggons, and the resthad to live as best they might. It did not surprise me, therefore, tosee no signs of cattle and no smoke from the silent houses. A weal hadbeen left across the country where the great host had passed, and it wassaid that even the rats were starved wherever the Emperor had led hismen.
By midday I had got as far as the village of Saalfeldt, but as I was onthe direct road for Osterode, where the Emperor was wintering, and alsofor the main camp of the seven divisions of infantry, the highway waschoked with carriages and carts. What with artillery caissons andwaggons and couriers, and the ever-thickening stream of recruits andstragglers, it seemed to me that it would be a very long time before Ishould join my comrades. The plains, however, were five feet deep insnow, so there was nothing for it but to plod upon our way. It was withjoy, therefore, that I found a second road which branched away from theother, trending through a fir-wood towards the north. There was a smallauberge at the cross-roads, and a patrol of the Third Hussars ofConflans--the very regiment of which I was afterwards colonel--weremounting their horses at the door. On the steps stood their officer, aslight, pale young man, who looked more like a young priest from aseminary than a leader of the devil-may-care rascals before him.
'Good-day, sir,' said he, seeing that I pulled up my horse.
'Good-day,' I answered. 'I am Lieutenant Etienne Gerard, of the Tenth.'
I could see by his face that he had heard of me. Everybody had heard ofme since my duel with the six fencing masters. My manner, however,served to put him at his ease with me.
'I am Sub-Lieutenant Duroc, of the Third,' said he.
'Newly joined?' I asked.
'Last week.'
I had thought as much, from his white face and from the way in which helet his men lounge upon their horses. It was not so long, however, sinceI had learned myself what it was like when a schoolboy has to giveorders to veteran troopers. It made me blush, I remember, to shoutabrupt commands to men who had seen more battles than I had years, andit would have come more natural for me to say, 'With your permission, weshall now wheel into line,' or, 'If you think it best, we shall trot.' Idid not think the less of the lad, therefore, when I observed that hismen were somewhat out of hand, but I gave them a glance which stiffenedthem in their saddles.
'May I ask, monsieur, whether you are going by this northern road?' Iasked.
'My orders are to patrol it as far as Arensdorf,' said he.
'Then I will, with your permission, ride so far with you,' said I. 'Itis very clear that the longer way will be the faster.'
So it proved, for this road led away from the army into a country whichwas given over to Cossacks and marauders, and it was as bare as theother was crowded. Duroc and I rode in front, with our six troopersclattering in the rear. He was a good boy, this Duroc, with his headfull of the nonsense that they teach at St Cyr, knowing more aboutAlexander and Pompey than how to mix a horse's fodder or care for ahorse's feet. Still, he was, as I have said, a good boy, unspoiled asyet by the camp. It pleased me to hear him prattle away about hissister Marie and about his mother in Amiens. Presently we foundourselves at the village of Hayenau. Duroc rode up to the post-house andasked to see the master.
'Can you tell me,' said he, 'whether the man who calls himself the BaronStraubenthal lives in these parts?'
The postmaster shook his head, and we rode upon our way. I took nonotice of this, but when, at the next village, my comrade repeated thesame question, with the same result, I could not help asking him whothis Baron Straubenthal might be.
'He is a man,' said Duroc, with a sudden flush upon his boyish face, 'towhom I have a very important message to convey.'
Well, this was not satisfactory, but there was something in mycompanion's manner which told me that any further questioning would bedistasteful to him. I said nothing more, therefore, but Duroc wouldstill ask every peasant whom we met whether he could give him any newsof the Baron Straubenthal.
For my own part I was endeavouring, as an officer of light cavalryshould, to form an idea of the lay of the country, to note the course ofthe streams, and to mark the places where there should be fords. Everystep was taking us farther from the camp round the flanks of which wewere travelling. Far to the south a few plumes of grey smoke in thefrosty air marked the position of some of our outposts. To the north,however, there was nothing between ourselves and the Russian winterquarters. Twice on the extreme horizon I caught a glimpse of the glitterof steel, and pointed it out to my companion. It was too distant for usto tell whence it came, but we had little doubt that it was from thelance-heads of marauding Cossacks.
The sun was just setting when we rode over a low hill and saw a smallvillage upon our right, and on our left a high black castle, whichjutted out from amongst the pine-woods. A farmer with his cart wasapproaching us--a matted-haired, downcast fellow, in a sheepskin jacket.
'What village is this?' asked Duroc.
'It is Arensdorf,' he answered, in his barbarous German dialect.
'Then here I am to stay the night,' said my young companion. Then,turning to the farmer, he asked his eternal question, 'Can you tell mewhere the Baron Straubenthal lives?'
'Why, it is he who owns the Castle of Gloom,' said the farmer, pointingto the dark turrets over the distant fir forest.
Duroc gave a shout like the sportsman who sees his game rising in frontof him. The lad seemed to have gone off his head--his eyes shining, hisface deathly white, and such a grim set about his mouth as made thefarmer shrink away from him. I can see him now, leaning forward on hisbrown horse, with his eager gaze fixed upon the great black tower.
'Why do you call it the Castle of Gloom?' I asked.
'Well, it's the name it bears upon the countryside,' said the farmer.'By all accounts there have been some black doings up yonder. It's notfor nothing that the wickedest man in Poland has been living there thesefourteen years past.'
'A Polish nobleman?' I asked.
'Nay, we breed no such men in Poland,' he answered.
'A Frenchman, then?' cried Duroc.
'They say that he came from France.'
'And with red hair?'
'As red as a fox.'
'Yes, yes, it is my man,' cried my companion, quivering all over in hisexcitement. 'It is the hand of Providence which has led me here. Who cansay that there is not justice in this world? Come, Monsieur Gerard, forI must see the men safely quartered before I can attend to this privatematter.'
He spurred on his horse, and ten minutes later we were at the door ofthe inn of Arensdorf, where his men were to find their quarters for thenight.
Well, all this was no affair of mine,
and I could not imagine what themeaning of it might be. Rossel was still far off, but I determined toride on for a few hours and take my chance of some wayside barn in whichI could find shelter for Rataplan and myself. I had mounted my horse,therefore, after tossing off a cup of wine, when young Duroc camerunning out of the door and laid his hand upon my knee.
'Monsieur Gerard,' he panted, 'I beg of you not to abandon me likethis!'
'My good sir,' said I, 'if you would tell me what is the matter and whatyou would wish me to do, I should be better able to tell you if I couldbe of any assistance to you.'
'You can be of the very greatest,' he cried. 'Indeed, from all that Ihave heard of you, Monsieur Gerard, you are the one man whom I shouldwish to have by my side tonight.'
'You forget that I am riding to join my regiment.'
'You cannot, in any case, reach it tonight. Tomorrow will bring you toRossel. By staying with me you will confer the very greatest kindnessupon me, and you will aid me in a matter which concerns my own honourand the honour of my family. I am compelled, however, to confess to youthat some personal danger may possibly be involved.'
It was a crafty thing for him to say. Of course, I sprang fromRataplan's back and ordered the groom to lead him back into the stables.
'Come into the inn,' said I, 'and let me know exactly what it is thatyou wish me to do.'
He led the way into a sitting-room, and fastened the door lest we shouldbe interrupted. He was a well-grown lad, and as he stood in the glare ofthe lamp, with the light beating upon his earnest face and upon hisuniform of silver grey, which suited him to a marvel, I felt my heartwarm towards him. Without going so far as to say that he carried himselfas I had done at his age, there was at least similarity enough to makeme feel in sympathy with him.
'I can explain it all in a few words,' said he. 'If I have not alreadysatisfied your very natural curiosity, it is because the subject is sopainful a one to me that I can hardly bring myself to allude to it. Icannot, however, ask for your assistance without explaining to youexactly how the matter lies.
'You must know, then, that my father was the well-known banker,Christophe Duroc, who was murdered by the people during the Septembermassacres. As you are aware, the mob took possession of the prisons,chose three so-called judges to pass sentence upon the unhappyaristocrats, and then tore them to pieces when they were passed out intothe street. My father had been a benefactor of the poor all his life.There were many to plead for him. He had the fever, too, and was carriedin, half-dead, upon a blanket. Two of the judges were in favour ofacquitting him; the third, a young Jacobin, whose huge body and brutalmind had made him a leader among these wretches, dragged him, with hisown hands, from the litter, kicked him again and again with his heavyboots, and hurled him out of the door, where in an instant he was tornlimb from limb under circumstances which are too horrible for me todescribe. This, as you perceive, was murder, even under their ownunlawful laws, for two of their own judges had pronounced in my father'sfavour.
'Well, when the days of order came back again, my elder brother began tomake inquiries about this man. I was only a child then, but it was afamily matter, and it was discussed in my presence. The fellow's namewas Carabin. He was one of Sansterre's Guard, and a noted duellist. Aforeign lady named the Baroness Straubenthal having been dragged beforethe Jacobins, he had gained her liberty for her on the promise that shewith her money and estates should be his. He had married her, taken hername and title, and escaped out of France at the time of the fall ofRobespierre. What had become of him we had no means of learning.
'You will think, doubtless, that it would be easy for us to find him,since we had both his name and his title. You must remember, however,that the Revolution left us without money, and that without money such asearch is very difficult. Then came the Empire, and it became moredifficult still, for, as you are aware, the Emperor considered that the18th Brumaire brought all accounts to a settlement, and that on that daya veil had been drawn across the past. None the less, we kept our ownfamily story and our own family plans.
'My brother joined the army, and passed with it through all SouthernEurope, asking everywhere for the Baron Straubenthal. Last October hewas killed at Jena, with his mission still unfulfilled. Then it becamemy turn, and I have the good fortune to hear of the very man of whom Iam in search at one of the first Polish villages which I have to visit,and within a fortnight of joining my regiment. And then, to make thematter even better, I find myself in the company of one whose name isnever mentioned throughout the army save in connection with some daringand generous deed.'
This was all very well, and I listened to it with the greatest interest,but I was none the clearer as to what young Duroc wished me to do.
'How can I be of service to you?' I asked.
'By coming up with me.'
'To the Castle?'
'Precisely.'
'When?'
'At once.'
'But what do you intend to do?'
'I shall know what to do. But I wish you to be with me, all the same.'
Well, it was never in my nature to refuse an adventure, and, besides, Ihad every sympathy with the lad's feelings. It is very well to forgiveone's enemies, but one wishes to give them something to forgive also. Iheld out my hand to him, therefore.
'I must be on my way for Rossel tomorrow morning, but tonight I amyours,' said I.
We left our troopers in snug quarters, and, as it was but a mile to theCastle, we did not disturb our horses. To tell the truth, I hate to seea cavalry man walk, and I hold that just as he is the most gallant thingupon earth when he has his saddle-flaps between his knees, so he is themost clumsy when he has to loop up his sabre and his sabre-tasche in onehand and turn in his toes for fear of catching the rowels of his spurs.Still, Duroc and I were of the age when one can carry things off, and Idare swear that no woman at least would have quarrelled with theappearance of the two young hussars, one in blue and one in grey, whoset out that night from the Arensdorf post-house. We both carried ourswords, and for my own part I slipped a pistol from my holster into theinside of my pelisse, for it seemed to me that there might be some wildwork before us.
The track which led to the Castle wound through a pitch-black fir-wood,where we could see nothing save the ragged patch of stars above ourheads. Presently, however, it opened up, and there was the Castle rightin front of us, about as far as a carbine would carry. It was a huge,uncouth place, and bore every mark of being exceedingly old, withturrets at every corner, and a square keep on the side which was nearestto us. In all its great shadow there was no sign of light save from asingle window, and no sound came from it. To me there was somethingawful in its size and its silence, which corresponded so well with itssinister name. My companion pressed on eagerly, and I followed him alongthe ill-kept path which led to the gate.
There was no bell or knocker upon the great iron-studded door, and itwas only by pounding with the hilts of our sabres that we could attractattention. A thin, hawk-faced man, with a beard up to his temples,opened it at last. He carried a lantern in one hand, and in the other achain which held an enormous black hound. His manner at the first momentwas threatening, but the sight of our uniforms and of our faces turnedit into one of sulky reserve.
'The Baron Straubenthal does not receive visitors at so late an hour,'said he, speaking in very excellent French.
'You can inform Baron Straubenthal that I have come eight hundredleagues to see him, and that I will not leave until I have done so,'said my companion. I could not myself have said it with a better voiceand manner.
The fellow took a sidelong look at us, and tugged at his black beard inhis perplexity.
'To tell the truth, gentlemen,' said he, 'the Baron has a cup or two ofwine in him at this hour, and you would certainly find him a moreentertaining companion if you were to come again in the morning.'
He had opened the door a little wider as he spoke, and I saw by thelight of the lamp in the hall behind him that three other rough fellowswe
re standing there, one of whom held another of these monstrous hounds.Duroc must have seen it also, but it made no difference to hisresolution.
'Enough talk,' said he, pushing the man to one side. 'It is with yourmaster that I have to deal.'
The fellows in the hall made way for him as he strode in among them, sogreat is the power of one man who knows what he wants over several whoare not sure of themselves. My companion tapped one of them upon theshoulder with as much assurance as though he owned him.
'Show me to the Baron,' said he.
The man shrugged his shoulders, and answered something in Polish. Thefellow with the beard, who had shut and barred the front door, appearedto be the only one among them who could speak French.
'Well, you shall have your way,' said he, with a sinister smile. 'Youshall see the Baron. And perhaps, before you have finished, you willwish that you had taken my advice.'
We followed him down the hall, which was stone-flagged and veryspacious, with skins scattered upon the floor, and the heads of wildbeasts upon the walls. At the farther end he threw open a door, and weentered.
It was a small room, scantily furnished, with the same marks of neglectand decay which met us at every turn. The walls were hung withdiscoloured tapestry, which had come loose at one corner, so as toexpose the rough stonework behind. A second door, hung with a curtain,faced us upon the other side. Between lay a square table, strewn withdirty dishes and the sordid remains of a meal. Several bottles werescattered over it. At the head of it, and facing us, there sat a hugeman with a lion-like head and a great shock of orange-coloured hair. Hisbeard was of the same glaring hue; matted and tangled and coarse as ahorse's mane. I have seen some strange faces in my time, but never onemore brutal than that, with its small, vicious, blue eyes, its white,crumpled cheeks, and the thick, hanging lip which protruded over hismonstrous beard. His head swayed about on his shoulders, and he lookedat us with the vague, dim gaze of a drunken man. Yet he was not so drunkbut that our uniforms carried their message to him.
'Well, my brave boys,' he hiccoughed. 'What is the latest news fromParis, eh? You're going to free Poland, I hear, and have meantime allbecome slaves yourselves--slaves to a little aristocrat with his greycoat and his three-cornered hat. No more citizens either, I am told, andnothing but monsieur and madame. My faith, some more heads will have toroll into the sawdust basket some of these mornings.'
Duroc advanced in silence, and stood by the ruffian's side.
'Jean Carabin,' said he.
The Baron started, and the film of drunkenness seemed to be clearingfrom his eyes.
'Jean Carabin,' said Duroc, once more.
He sat up and grasped the arms of his chair.
'What do you mean by repeating that name, young man?' he asked.
'Jean Carabin, you are a man whom I have long wished to meet.'
'Supposing that I once had such a name, how can it concern you, sinceyou must have been a child when I bore it?'
'My name is Duroc.'
'Not the son of----?'
'The son of the man you murdered.'
The Baron tried to laugh, but there was terror in his eyes.
'We must let bygones be bygones, young man,' he cried. 'It was our lifeor theirs in those days: the aristocrats or the people. Your father wasof the Gironde. He fell. I was of the mountain. Most of my comradesfell. It was all the fortune of war. We must forget all this and learnto know each other better, you and I.' He held out a red, twitching handas he spoke.
'Enough,' said young Duroc. 'If I were to pass my sabre through you asyou sit in that chair, I should do what is just and right. I dishonourmy blade by crossing it with yours. And yet you are a Frenchman, andhave even held a commission under the same flag as myself. Rise, then,and defend yourself!'
'Tut, tut!' cried the Baron. 'It is all very well for you youngbloods--'
Duroc's patience could stand no more. He swung his open hand into thecentre of the great orange beard. I saw a lip fringed with blood, andtwo glaring blue eyes above it.
'You shall die for that blow.'
'That is better,' said Duroc.
'My sabre!' cried the other. 'I will not keep you waiting, I promiseyou!' and he hurried from the room.
I have said that there was a second door covered with a curtain. Hardlyhad the Baron vanished when there ran from behind it a woman, young andbeautiful. So swiftly and noiselessly did she move that she was betweenus in an instant, and it was only the shaking curtains which told uswhence she had come.
'I have seen it all,' she cried. 'Oh, sir, you have carried yourselfsplendidly.' She stooped to my companion's hand, and kissed it again andagain ere he could disengage it from her grasp.
'Nay, madame, why should you kiss my hand?' he cried.
'Because it is the hand which struck him on his vile, lying mouth.Because it may be the hand which will avenge my mother. I am hisstep-daughter. The woman whose heart he broke was my mother. I loathehim, I fear him. Ah, there is his step!' In an instant she had vanishedas suddenly as she had come. A moment later, the Baron entered with adrawn sword in his hand, and the fellow who had admitted us at hisheels.
'This is my secretary,' said he. 'He will be my friend in this affair.But we shall need more elbow-room than we can find here. Perhaps youwill kindly come with me to a more spacious apartment.'
It was evidently impossible to fight in a chamber which was blocked by agreat table. We followed him out, therefore, into the dimly-lit hall. Atthe farther end a light was shining through an open door.
'We shall find what we want in here,' said the man with the dark beard.It was a large, empty room, with rows of barrels and cases round thewalls. A strong lamp stood upon a shelf in the corner. The floor waslevel and true, so that no swordsman could ask for more. Duroc drew hissabre and sprang into it. The Baron stood back with a bow and motionedme to follow my companion. Hardly were my heels over the threshold whenthe heavy door crashed behind us and the key screamed in the lock. Wewere taken in a trap.
For a moment we could not realize it. Such incredible baseness wasoutside all our experiences. Then, as we understood how foolish we hadbeen to trust for an instant a man with such a history, a flush of ragecame over us, rage against his villainy and against our own stupidity.We rushed at the door together, beating it with our fists and kickingwith our heavy boots. The sound of our blows and of our execrations musthave resounded through the Castle. We called to this villain, hurling athim every name which might pierce even into his hardened soul. But thedoor was enormous--such a door as one finds in mediaeval castles--madeof huge beams clamped together with iron. It was as easy to break as asquare of the Old Guard. And our cries appeared to be of as little availas our blows, for they only brought for answer the clattering echoesfrom the high roof above us. When you have done some soldiering, yousoon learn to put up with what cannot be altered. It was I, then, whofirst recovered my calmness, and prevailed upon Duroc to join with me inexamining the apartment which had become our dungeon.
There was only one window, which had no glass in it, and was so narrowthat one could not so much as get one's head through. It was high up,and Duroc had to stand upon a barrel in order to see from it.
'What can you see?' I asked.
'Fir-woods and an avenue of snow between them,' said he. 'Ah!' he gave acry of surprise.
I sprang upon the barrel beside him. There was, as he said, a long,clear strip of snow in front. A man was riding down it, flogging hishorse and galloping like a madman. As we watched, he grew smaller andsmaller, until he was swallowed up by the black shadows of the forest.
'What does that mean?' asked Duroc.
'No good for us,' said I. 'He may have gone for some brigands to cutour throats. Let us see if we cannot find a way out of this mouse-trapbefore the cat can arrive.'
The one piece of good fortune in our favour was that beautiful lamp. Itwas nearly full of oil, and would last us until morning. In the dark oursituation would have been far more difficult. By its light we
proceededto examine the packages and cases which lined the walls. In some placesthere was only a single line of them, while in one corner they werepiled nearly to the ceiling. It seemed that we were in the storehouse ofthe Castle, for there were a great number of cheeses, vegetables ofvarious kinds, bins full of dried fruits, and a line of wine barrels.One of these had a spigot in it, and as I had eaten little during theday, I was glad of a cup of claret and some food. As to Duroc, he wouldtake nothing, but paced up and down the room in a fever of anger andimpatience. 'I'll have him yet!' he cried, every now and then. 'Therascal shall not escape me!'
This was all very well, but it seemed to me, as I sat on a great roundcheese eating my supper, that this youngster was thinking rather toomuch of his own family affairs and too little of the fine scrape intowhich he had got me. After all, his father had been dead fourteen years,and nothing could set that right; but here was Etienne Gerard, the mostdashing lieutenant in the whole Grand Army, in imminent danger of beingcut off at the very outset of his brilliant career. Who was ever to knowthe heights to which I might have risen if I were knocked on the head inthis hole-and-corner business, which had nothing whatever to do withFrance or the Emperor? I could not help thinking what a fool I had been,when I had a fine war before me and everything which a man could desire,to go off on a hare-brained expedition of this sort, as if it were notenough to have a quarter of a million Russians to fight against, withoutplunging into all sorts of private quarrels as well.
'That is all very well,' I said at last, as I heard Duroc muttering histhreats. 'You may do what you like to him when you get the upper hand.At present the question rather is, what is _he_ going to do to us?'
'Let him do his worst!' cried the boy. 'I owe a duty to my father.'
'That is mere foolishness,' said I. 'If you owe a duty to your father, Iowe one to my mother, which is to get out of this business safe andsound.'
My remark brought him to his senses.
'I have thought too much of myself!' he cried. 'Forgive me, MonsieurGerard. Give me your advice as to what I should do.'
'Well,' said I, 'it is not for our health that they have shut us up hereamong the cheeses. They mean to make an end of us if they can. That iscertain. They hope that no one knows that we have come here, and thatnone will trace us if we remain. Do your hussars know where you havegone to?'
'I said nothing.'
'Hum! It is clear that we cannot be starved here. They must come to usif they are to kill us. Behind a barricade of barrels we could hold ourown against the five rascals whom we have seen. That is, probably, whythey have sent that messenger for assistance.'
'We must get out before he returns.'
'Precisely, if we are to get out at all.'
'Could we not burn down this door?' he cried.
'Nothing could be easier,' said I. 'There are several casks of oil inthe corner. My only objection is that we should ourselves be nicelytoasted, like two little oyster pates.'
'Can you not suggest something?' he cried, in despair. 'Ah, what isthat?'
There had been a low sound at our little window, and a shadow camebetween the stars and ourselves. A small, white hand was stretched intothe lamplight. Something glittered between the fingers.
'Quick! quick!' cried a woman's voice.
We were on the barrel in an instant.
'They have sent for the Cossacks. Your lives are at stake. Ah, I amlost! I am lost!'
There was the sound of rushing steps, a hoarse oath, a blow, and thestars were once more twinkling through the window. We stood helplessupon the barrel with our blood cold with horror. Half a minuteafterwards we heard a smothered scream, ending in a choke. A great doorslammed somewhere in the silent night.
'Those ruffians have seized her. They will kill her,' I cried.
Duroc sprang down with the inarticulate shouts of one whose reason hasleft him. He struck the door so frantically with his naked hands that heleft a blotch of blood with every blow.
Here is the key!' I shouted, picking one from the floor. 'She must havethrown it in at the instant that she was torn away.'
My companion snatched it from me with a shriek of joy. A moment later hedashed it down upon the boards. It was so small that it was lost in theenormous lock. Duroc sank upon one of the boxes with his head betweenhis hands. He sobbed in his despair. I could have sobbed, too, when Ithought of the woman and how helpless we were to save her.
But I am not easily baffled. After all, this key must have been sent tous for a purpose. The lady could not bring us that of the door, becausethis murderous step-father of hers would most certainly have it in hispocket. Yet this other must have a meaning, or why should she risk herlife to place it in our hands? It would say little for our wits if wecould not find out what that meaning might be.
I set to work moving all the cases out from the wall, and Duroc, gainingnew hope from my courage, helped me with all his strength. It was nolight task, for many of them were large and heavy. On we went, workinglike maniacs, slinging barrels, cheeses, and boxes pell-mell into themiddle of the room. At last there only remained one huge barrel ofvodka, which stood in the corner. With our united strength we rolled itout, and there was a little low wooden door in the wainscot behind it.The key fitted, and with a cry of delight we saw it swing open beforeus. With the lamp in my hand, I squeezed my way in, followed by mycompanion.
We were in the powder-magazine of the Castle--a rough, walled cellar,with barrels all round it, and one with the top staved in in the centre.The powder from it lay in a black heap upon the floor. Beyond there wasanother door, but it was locked.
'We are no better off than before,' cried Duroc. 'We have no key.'
'We have a dozen!' I cried.
'Where?'
I pointed to the line of powder barrels.
'You would blow this door open?'
'Precisely.'
'But you would explode the magazine.'
It was true, but I was not at the end of my resources.
'We will blow open the store-room door,' I cried.
I ran back and seized a tin box which had been filled with candles. Itwas about the size of my busby--large enough to hold several pounds ofpowder. Duroc filled it while I cut off the end of a candle. When we hadfinished, it would have puzzled a colonel of engineers to make a betterpetard. I put three cheeses on the top of each other and placed it abovethem, so as to lean against the lock. Then we lit our candle-end and ranfor shelter, shutting the door of the magazine behind us.
It is no joke, my friends, to be among all those tons of powder, withthe knowledge that if the flame of the explosion should penetratethrough one thin door our blackened limbs would be shot higher than theCastle keep. Who could have believed that a half-inch of candle couldtake so long to burn? My ears were straining all the time for thethudding of the hoofs of the Cossacks who were coming to destroy us. Ihad almost made up my mind that the candle must have gone out when therewas a smack like a bursting bomb, our door flew to bits, and pieces ofcheese, with a shower of turnips, apples, and splinters of cases, wereshot in among us. As we rushed out we had to stagger through animpenetrable smoke, with all sorts of debris beneath our feet, but therewas a glimmering square where the dark door had been. The petard haddone its work.
In fact, it had done more for us than we had even ventured to hope. Ithad shattered gaolers as well as gaol. The first thing that I saw as Icame out into the hall was a man with a butcher's axe in his hand, lyingflat upon his back, with a gaping wound across his forehead. The secondwas a huge dog, with two of its legs broken, twisting in agony upon thefloor. As it raised itself up I saw the two broken ends flapping likeflails. At the same instant I heard a cry, and there was Duroc, thrownagainst the wall, with the other hound's teeth in his throat. He pushedit off with his left hand, while again and again he passed his sabrethrough its body, but it was not until I blew out its brains with mypistol that the iron jaws relaxed, and the fierce, bloodshot eyes wereglazed in death.
There was no ti
me for us to pause. A woman's scream from in front--ascream of mortal terror--told us that even now we might be too late.There were two other men in the hall, but they cowered away from ourdrawn swords and furious faces. The blood was streaming from Duroc'sneck and dyeing the grey fur of his pelisse. Such was the lad's fire,however, that he shot in front of me, and it was only over his shoulderthat I caught a glimpse of the scene as we rushed into the chamber inwhich we had first seen the master of the Castle of Gloom.
The Baron was standing in the middle of the room, his tangled manebristling like an angry lion. He was, as I have said, a huge man withenormous shoulders; and as he stood there, with his face flushed withrage and his sword advanced, I could not but think that, in spite of allhis villainies, he had a proper figure for a grenadier. The lady laycowering in a chair behind him. A weal across one of her white arms anda dog-whip upon the floor were enough to show that our escape had hardlybeen in time to save her from his brutality. He gave a howl like a wolfas we broke in, and was upon us in an instant, hacking and driving, witha curse at every blow.
I have already said that the room gave no space for swordsmanship. Myyoung companion was in front of me in the narrow passage between thetable and the wall, so that I could only look on without being able toaid him. The lad knew something of his weapon, and was as fierce andactive as a wild cat, but in so narrow a space the weight and strengthof the giant gave him the advantage. Besides, he was an admirableswordsman. His parade and riposte were as quick as lightning. Twice hetouched Duroc upon the shoulder, and then, as the lad slipped on alunge, he whirled up his sword to finish him before he could recover hisfeet. I was quicker than he, however, and took the cut upon the pommelof my sabre.
'Excuse me,' said I, 'but you have still to deal with Etienne Gerard.'
He drew back and leaned against the tapestry-covered wall, breathing inlittle, hoarse gasps, for his foul living was against him.
'Take your breath,' said I. 'I will await your convenience.'
'You have no cause of quarrel against me,' he panted.
'I owe you some little attention,' said I, 'for having shut me up inyour store-room. Besides, if all other were wanting, I see cause enoughupon that lady's arm.'
'Have your way, then!' he snarled, and leaped at me like a madman. Fora minute I saw only the blazing blue eyes, and the red glazed pointwhich stabbed and stabbed, rasping off to right or to left, and yet everback at my throat and my breast. I had never thought that such goodsword-play was to be found at Paris in the days of the Revolution. I donot suppose that in all my little affairs I have met six men who had abetter knowledge of their weapon. But he knew that I was his master. Heread death in my eyes, and I could see that he read it. The flush diedfrom his face. His breath came in shorter and in thicker gasps. Yet hefought on, even after the final thrust had come, and died still hackingand cursing, with foul cries upon his lips, and his blood clotting uponhis orange beard. I who speak to you have seen so many battles, that myold memory can scarce contain their names, and yet of all the terriblesights which these eyes have rested upon, there is none which I care tothink of less than of that orange beard with the crimson stain in thecentre, from which I had drawn my sword-point.
It was only afterwards that I had time to think of all this. Hismonstrous body had hardly crashed down upon the floor before the womanin the corner sprang to her feet, clapping her hands together andscreaming out in her delight. For my part I was disgusted to see a womantake such delight in a deed of blood, and I gave no thought as to theterrible wrongs which must have befallen her before she could so farforget the gentleness of her sex. It was on my tongue to tell hersharply to be silent, when a strange, choking smell took the breath frommy nostrils, and a sudden, yellow glare brought out the figures upon thefaded hangings.
'Duroc, Duroc!' I shouted, tugging at his shoulder. 'The Castle is onfire!'
The boy lay senseless upon the ground, exhausted by his wounds. I rushedout into the hall to see whence the danger came. It was our explosionwhich had set alight to the dry frame-work of the door. Inside thestore-room some of the boxes were already blazing. I glanced in, and asI did so my blood was turned to water by the sight of the powder barrelsbeyond, and of the loose heap upon the floor. It might be seconds, itcould not be more than minutes, before the flames would be at the edgeof it. These eyes will be closed in death, my friends, before they ceaseto see those crawling lines of fire and the black heap beyond.
How little I can remember what followed. Vaguely I can recall how Irushed into the chamber of death, how I seized Duroc by one limp handand dragged him down the hall, the woman keeping pace with me andpulling at the other arm. Out of the gateway we rushed, and on down thesnow-covered path until we were on the fringe of the fir forest. It wasat that moment that I heard a crash behind me, and, glancing round, sawa great spout of fire shoot up into the wintry sky. An instant laterthere seemed to come a second crash, far louder than the first. I sawthe fir trees and the stars whirling round me, and I fell unconsciousacross the body of my comrade.
* * * * *
It was some weeks before I came to myself in the post-house ofArensdorf, and longer still before I could be told all that had befallenme. It was Duroc, already able to go soldiering, who came to my bedsideand gave me an account of it. He it was who told me how a piece oftimber had struck me on the head and laid me almost dead upon theground. From him, too, I learned how the Polish girl had run toArensdorf, how she had roused our hussars, and how she had only justbrought them back in time to save us from the spears of the Cossacks whohad been summoned from their bivouac by that same black-beardedsecretary whom we had seen galloping so swiftly over the snow. As to thebrave lady who had twice saved our lives, I could not learn very muchabout her at that moment from Duroc, but when I chanced to meet him inParis two years later, after the campaign of Wagram, I was not verymuch surprised to find that I needed no introduction to his bride, andthat by the queer turns of fortune he had himself, had he chosen to useit, that very name and title of the Baron Straubenthal, which showed himto be the owner of the blackened ruins of the Castle of Gloom.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote A: The term Brigadier is used throughout in its English andnot in its French sense.]