CHAPTER XXXVI.
THE VENGEANCE OF THE LITTLE ONE.
The warm, transparent light of an African autumnal noon shone downthrough the white canvas roof of a great tent in the heart of theencamped divisions at the headquarters of the Army of the South. Inthe tent there was a densely packed throng--an immense, close, hushed,listening crowd, of which every man wore the uniform of France, of whichthe mute, undeviating attention, forbidden by discipline alike to bebroken by sound of approval or dissent, had in it something that wasalmost terrible, contrasted with the vivid eagerness in their eyes andthe strained absorption of their countenances; for they were in court,and that court was the Council of War of their own southern camp.
The prisoner was arraigned on the heaviest charge that can be laidagainst the soldier of any army, and yet, as the many eyes of themilitary crowd turned on him where he stood surrounded by his guard,his crime against his chief was forgotten, and they onlyremembered--Zaraila.
Many of those present had seen him throughout that day of blood, at thehead of his decimated squadron, with the guidon held aloft above everyfoe; to them that tall, slender form standing there, with a calm,weary dignity, that had nothing of the passion of the mutinous or theconsciousness of the criminal in its serene repose, had shed upon it theluster of a heroism that made them ready almost to weep like women thatthe death of a mutineer should be the sole answer given by France to thesavior of her honor.
He preserved entire reticence in court. The instant the accusation hadbeen read to him, he had seen that his chief would not dare to couplewith it the proud, pure name he had dared to outrage; his most bitteranxiety was thus at an end. For all the rest, he was tranquil.
No case could be clearer, briefer, less complex, more entirely incapableof defense. The soldiers of the guard gave evidence as to the violenceand fury of the assault. The sentinel bore witness to having heard therefusal to reply; a moment after, he had seen the attack made and theblow given. The accuser merely stated that, meeting his sous-officierout of the bounds of the cavalry camp, he had asked him where he hadbeen, and why he was there, and, on his commanding an answer, had beenassaulted in the manner described, with violence sufficient to have costhis life had not the guard been so near at hand. When questioned as towhat motive he could assign for the act, he replied that he consideredhis corporal had always incited evil feeling and mutinous conduct inthe squadrons, and had, he believed, that day attributed to himself hisfailure to receive the Cross. The statement passed without contradictionby the prisoner, who, to the interrogations and entreaties of his legaldefender, only replied that the facts were stated accurately as theyoccurred, and that his reasons for the deed he declined to assert.
When once more questioned as to his country and his past by thepresident, he briefly declined to give answer. When asked if the namesby which he was enrolled were his own, he replied that they were two ofhis baptismal names, which had served his purpose on entering the army.When asked if he accepted as true the charge of exciting sedition amongthe troops, he replied that it was so little true that, over and overagain, the men would have mutinied if he had given them a sign, and thathe had continually induced them to submit to discipline sheerly by forceof his own example. When interrogated as to the cause of the languagehe had used to his commanding officer, he said briefly that the languagedeserved the strongest censure as for a soldier to his colonel, but thatit was justified as he had used it, which was as man to man, thoughhe was aware the plea availed nothing in military law, and wasimpermissible for the safety of the service. When it was inquired of himif he had not repeatedly inveighed against his commanding officer forseverity, he briefly denied it; no man had ever heard him say a syllablethat could have been construed into complaint; at the same time, heobserved that all the squadrons knew perfectly well personal enmity andoppression had been shown him by his chief throughout the whole time ofhis association with the regiment. When pressed as to the cause that heassigned for this, he gave, in a few comprehensive outlines, the storyof the capture and the deliverance of the Emir's bride; this was allthat could be elicited from him; and even this was answered only outof deference to the authority of the court, and from his unwillingness,even now, to set a bad example before the men with whom he had served solong. When it was finally demanded of him if he had aught to urge in hisown extenuation, he paused a moment, with a gaze under which eventhe hard, eagle eyes grew restless, looked across to Chateauroy, andaddressed his antagonist rather than the president.
"Only this: that a tyrant, a liar, and a traducer cannot wonder if menprefer death to submission beneath insult. But I am well aware this isno vindication of my act as a soldier, and I have no desire to say wordswhich, whatever their truth, might become hereafter dangerous legacies,and dangerous precedents to the army."
That was all which he answered, and neither his counsel nor his accuserscould extort another syllable from him.
He knew that what he had done was justified to his own conscience, buthe did not seek to dispute that it was unjustifiable in military law.True, had all been told, it was possible enough that his judges wouldexonerate him morally, even if they condemned him legally; his actwould be seen blameless as a man's, even while still punishable as asoldier's; but to purchase immunity for himself at the cost of bringingthe fairness of her fame into the coarse babble of men's tongues was analternative, craven and shameful, which never even once glanced acrosshis thoughts.
He had kept faith to a woman whom he had known heartless and well-nighworthless; it was not to the woman whom he loved with all the might ofan intense passion, and whom he knew pure and glorious as the morningsun, that he would break his faith now.
All through the three days that the council sat his look and his mannernever changed--the first was quite calm, though very weary; the lattercourteous, but resolute, with the unchanged firmness of one who knew hisown past action justified. For the rest, many noticed that, during thechief of the long, exhausting hours of his examination and his trial,his thoughts seemed far away, and he appeared to recall them to thepresent with difficulty, and with nothing of the vivid suspense of anaccused, whose life and death swung in the judgment-balance.
In truth, he had no dread as he had no hope left; he knew well enoughthat by the blow which had vindicated her honor he had forfeited his ownexistence. All he wished was that his sentence had been dealt withoutthis formula of debate and of delay, which could have issue but in oneend. There was not one man in court who was not more moved than he, morequick to terror and regret for his doom. To many among his comradeswho had learned to love the gentle, silent "aristocrat," who bore everyhardship so patiently, and humanized them so imperceptibly by the simpleforce of an unvaunted example, those three days were torture. Wild,brutal brigands, whose year was one long razzia of plunder, rapine, andslaughter, felt their lips tremble like young girls' when they asked howthe issue went for him; and the blood-stained marauders, who thought aslittle of assassination for a hidden pot of gold as butchers of drawinga knife across a sheep's throat, grew still and fear-stricken with agreat awe when the muttering passed through the camp that they would seeno more among their ranks that "woman's face" which they had beheldso often foremost in the fight, with a look on it that thrilled theirhearts like their forbidden chant of the Marseillaise. For when thethird day closed, they knew that he must die.
There were men, hard as steel, ravenous of blood as vultures, who, whenthey heard that sentence given, choked great, deep sobs down into thecavernous depths of their broad, seared, sinewy breasts; but he nevergave sigh or sign. He never moved once while the decree of death wasread to him; and there was no change in the weary calmness of his eyes.He bent his head in acquiescence.
"C'est bien!" he said simply.
It seemed well to him. Dead, his secret would lie in the grave with him,and the long martyrdom of his life be ended.