CHAPTER XXII
VALERIE
"I tell you I saw them led out under my very windows to be shot. Twoand two they marched, with their heads erect, and their gait as haughtyas if they were leading the assault. Thirteen of them in all, and theoldest not five-and-forty. Oh! woe to the Fatherland!--the best bloodin Hungary was shed on that fearful day,--the gallant, the true-hearted,who had risen at the first call, and had been the last to fail. Takenwith arms in their hands, forsooth! What should be in a gentleman'shands but arms at such a time? Oh, that I had but been a man!" Thegirl's dark eyes flashed, and her beautiful chiselled nostril dilated asshe threw her head back, and stamped her little foot on the floor. Noneof your soft-eyed beauties was Valerie de Rohan, but one who sparkledand blazed, and took your admiration fairly by storm. Those who areexperienced in such matters affirm that these are the least dangerous ofour natural enemies, and that your regular heart-breaker is the gentle,smiling, womanly woman, who wins her way into the citadel step by step,till she pervades it all, and if she leaves it, leaves desolation andruin behind her. But of this I am incapable of giving an opinion; all Iknow is, Valerie grew soft enough as she went on.
"I knew every man of them intimately; not one but had been my father'sguest--my poor father, even then fined and imprisoned in Comorn for themanly part he had played. Not one of them but had been at our'receptions' in the very room from the windows of which I now saw themmarching forth to die; and not one but as he passed me lifted hisunfettered hand to his head, and saluted me with a courtly smile. Lastof all came Adolphe Zersky, my own second cousin, and the poor boy wasbut nineteen. I bore it all till I saw him; but when he passed under myvery eyes, and smiled his usual light-hearted smile, and waved hishandkerchief to me, and pressed it to his lips--a handkerchief I hadembroidered for him with my own hands--and called out blithesomely, asthough he were going to a wedding, 'Good-morning, Comtesse Valerie; Imeant to have called to-day, but have got a previous engagement,' Ithought my heart would break. He looked prouder than any of them; Ihardly think he would have been set free if he could. He was a trueHungarian. God bless him!--I heard the shots that struck them down. Ioften dream I hear them now. They massacred poor Adolphe last ofall--he retained his _sang-froid_ to the end. The Austrian officer onguard was an old schoolfellow, and Adolphe remarked to im with a laugh,just before they led him out, 'I say, Fritz, if they mean to keep ushere much longer, they really ought to give us some breakfast!'
"Oh, Mr. Egerton, it was a cruel time. I had borne the bombardment wellenough. I had seen our beautiful town reduced to ruins; and I neverwinced, for I am the daughter of a Hungarian; but I gave way when theybutchered my friends, and wept--oh, how I wept! What else could I do?We poor weak women have but our tears to give. Had I _but_ been born aman!"
Once more Valerie's eye flashed, and the proud, wild look gleamed overher features; while a vague idea that for same days had pervaded mybrain began to assume a certain form, to the effect that Valerie deRohan was a very beautiful woman, and that it was by no meansdisagreeable to have such a nurse when one was wounded in body, or sucha friend when one was sick at heart. And she treated me as a _real_friend: she reposed perfect confidence in me; she told me of all herplans and pursuits, her romantic ideas, and visionary schemes for theregeneration of her country, for she was a true patriot; lastly, sheconfessed to a keen admiration for my profession as a soldier, and atender pity for my wounds. Who would not have such a friend? Who wouldnot follow with his eyes such a nurse as she glided about his couch?
It is useless to attempt the description of a woman. To say thatValerie had dark, swimming eyes, and jet-black hair, twisted into amassive crown on her superb head, and round arms and white handssparkling with jewels, and a graceful floating figure, shaped like astatue, and dressed a little too coquettishly, is merely to say that shewas a commonplace handsome person, but conveys no idea of that subtleessence of beauty--that nameless charm which casts its spell equallyover the wisest as the weakest, and which can no more be expressed bywords than it can be accounted for by reason. Yet Valerie was a womanwho would have found her way straight to the hearts of most men. Itseems like a dream to look back to one of those happy days of contentedconvalescence and languid repose. Every man who has suffered keenly inlife must have felt that there is in the human organisation aninstinctive reaction and resistance against sorrow, a natural tendencyto take advantage of any lull in the storm, and a disposition to deceiveourselves into the belief that we are forgetting for the time that whichthe very effort proves we too bitterly remember. But even thisartificial repose has a good effect. It gives us strength to bearfuture trials, and affords us also time for reflections which, in theexcitement of grief, are powerless to arrest us for a moment.
So I lay on the sofa in the drawing-room at Edeldorf, and rested mywounded leg, and shut my eyes to the future, and drew a curtain (alas,what a transparent one it was!) over the past. There was everything tosoothe and charm an invalid. The beautiful room, with its panelledwalls and polished floor, inlaid like the costliest marquetry, a perfectmosaic of the forest; the light cane chairs and brocaded ottomansscattered over its surface; the gorgeous cabinets of ebony and gold thatfilled the spaces between the windows, reflected in long mirrors thatran from floor to ceiling; the gems of Landseer, reproduced by theengraver, sparkling on the walls--for the Hungarian is very English inhis tastes, and loves to gaze through the mist at the antlered stag whomSir Edwin has captured in the corrie, and reproduced in a thousandhalls; or to rest with the tired pony and the boy in _sabots_ at thehalting-place; or to exchange humorous glances with the blacksmith whois shoeing that wondrously-drawn bay horse, foreshortened into nature,till one longs to pat him;--all this created a beautiful interior, and_from_ all this I could let my eyes wander away, through the half-openedwindow at the end, over the undulating park, with its picturesqueacacias, far, far athwart the rich Hungarian plain, till it crossed thedim line of trees marking the distant Danube, and reached the boldoutline of hills beyond the river, melting into the dun vapours of anafternoon sky.
And there was but one object to intercept the view. In the window satComtesse Valerie, her graceful head bent over her work, her pretty handsflitting to and fro, so white against the coloured embroidery, and hersoft glance ever and anon stealing to my couch, while she asked, with aforeigner's _empressement_, which was very gratifying, though it mightmean nothing, whether I had all I wanted, and if my leg pained me, andif I was not wearying for Victor's return from the _chasse_?
"And you were here years ago, when I was almost a baby, and I was awayon a visit to my aunt at Pesth. Do you know, I always felt as if we wereold friends, even the first day you arrived with Victor, and were liftedout of the carriage, so pale, so suffering! Oh, how I pitied you! butyou are much better now."
"How can I be otherwise," was my unavoidable reply, "with so kind anurse and such good friends as I find here?"
"And am I _really_ useful to you? and do you think that my care _really_makes you better? Oh! you cannot think how glad I am to know this. Icannot be a soldier myself, and bear arms for my beloved country; but Ican be useful to those who have done so, and it makes me so proud and sohappy!"
The girl's colour rose, and her eyes sparkled and moistened at once.
"But I have not fought for Hungary," I interposed, rather bluntly. "Ihave no claim on your sympathies--scarcely on your pity."
"Do not say so," she exclaimed, warmly. "Setting apart our regard foryou as my brother's friend, it is our enemy with whom you have beenfighting--our oppressor who has laid you now on a wounded couch, farfrom your own country and your friends. Do you think I can tolerate aRussian? he is but one degree better than an Austrian! And I can_hate_--I tell you I can hate to some purpose!"
She looked as if she could. What a strange girl she was!--now so softand tender, like a gentle ring-dove; anon flashing out into these gleamsof fiercenes
s like a tigress. I was beginning to be a little afraid ofher. She seemed to divine my thoughts, for she laughed merrily, andresumed, in her usual pleasant voice--
"You do not yet know me, Mr. Egerton. I am a true De Rohan, and we areas strong in our loves as in our hatreds. Beware of either! I warnyou," she added archly, "we are a dangerous race to friend or foe."
Was this coquetry, or the mere playful exuberance of a girl's spirits?I began to feel a curious sensation that I had thought I should neverfeel again--I am not sure that it was altogether unpleasant.
Valerie looked at me for a moment, as if she expected me to saysomething; then bent her head resolutely down to her frame, and went onin a low, rapid voice--
"We are a strange family, Mr. Egerton, we 'De Rohans'; and are a truetype of the country to which we belong. We are proud to be thought realHungarians--warm-hearted, excitable, impatient, but, above all, earnestand sincere. We are strong for good and for evil. Our tyrants maybreak our hearts, but they cannot subdue our spirit. We look forward tothe time which _must_ come at last. 'Hope on, hope ever!' is our motto:a good principle, Mr. Egerton, is it not?"
As I glanced at her excited face and graceful figure, I could not helpthinking that there must be many an aspiring Hungarian who would lovewell to hear such a sentiment of encouragement from such lips, and whowould be ready and willing to hope on, though the ever would be a longword for one of those ardent, impulsive natures. She worked on insilence for a few minutes, and resumed.
"You will help us, you English, we all feel convinced. Are you not thechampions of liberty all over the world? And you are so like ourselvesin your manners and thoughts and principles. Tell me, Mr. Egerton, anddo not be afraid to trust me, _is it not true_?"
"Is not _what_ true?" I asked, from the sofa where I lay, apathetic anddejected, a strange contrast to my beautiful companion.
She went to the door, listened, and closed it carefully, then looked outat the open window, and having satisfied herself there was not a soulwithin ear-shot, she came back close to my couch, and whispered, "AnEnglish prince on the throne of Hungary, our constitution and ourparliaments once more, and, above all, deliverance from the iron yoke ofAustria, which is crushing us down to the very earth!"
"I have never heard of it," said I, with difficulty suppressing a smileat the visionary scheme, which must have had its origin in some brainheated and enthusiastic as that of my beautiful companion; "nor do Ithink, if that is all you have to look to, that there is much hope forHungary."
She frowned angrily.
"Oh!" she answered, "you are cautious, Mr. Egerton: you will not trustme, I can see--but you might do so with safety. We are all'_right-thinkers_' here. Though they swarm throughout the land, I donot believe a Government spy has ever yet set foot within the walls ofEdeldorf; but I tell you, if _you_ will not help us, we are lost. Youlaugh to see a girl like me interest herself so warmly about politics,but with us it is a question of life and death. Women, as well as men,have all to gain or all to lose. I repeat, if you do not help us wehave nothing left to hope for. Russia will take our part, and we shallfall open-eyed into the trap. Why, even as enemies, they succeeded iningratiating themselves with the inhabitants of a conquered country.Yes, Hungary was a _conquered country_, and the soldiers of the Czarwere our masters. They respected our feelings, they spared ourproperty, they treated us with courtesy and consideration, and theylavished gold with both hands, which was supplied to them by their ownGovernment for the purpose. It is easy to foresee the result. The nextRussian army that crosses the frontier will march in as deliverers, andAustria _must_ give way. They are generous in promises, and unequalledin diplomacy. They will flatter our nobles and give us back ourconstitution; nay, for a time we shall enjoy more of the outward symbolsof freedom than have ever yet fallen to our lot. And _merely_ as acompliment, _merely_ as a matter of form, a Russian Grand-Duke willoccupy the palace at Pesth, and assume the crown of St. Stephen simplyas the guardian of our liberties and our rights. Then will be told oncemore the well-known tale of Russian intrigue and Russian pertinacity. Apretence of fusion and a system of favouritism will gradually sap ournationality and destroy our patriotism, and in two generations it willbe Poland over again. Well, even that would be better than what we haveto endure now."
"Do you mean to say," I asked, somewhat astonished to find my companionso inveterate a _hater_, notwithstanding that she had warned me of thisamiable eccentricity in her character,--"do you mean to say that, withall your German habits and prejudices, nay, with German as your verymother tongue, you would prefer the yoke of the Czar to that of theKaiser?"
She drew herself up, and her voice quite trembled with anger as shereplied--
"The Russians do not beat women. Listen, Mr. Egerton, and then wonderif you can at my bitter hatred of the Austrian yoke. She was my ownaunt, my dear mother's only sister. I was sitting with her when she wasarrested. We were at supper with a small party of relations and friends.For the moment we had forgotten our danger and our sorrows and thetroubles of our unhappy country. She had been singing, and was actuallyseated at the pianoforte when an Austrian Major of Dragoons wasannounced. I will do him the justice to say that he was a gentleman,and performed his odious mission kindly and courteously enough. Atfirst she thought there was some bad news of her husband, and she turneddeadly pale; but when the officer stammered out that his business waswith _her_, and that it was his duty to arrest her upon a charge oftreason, the colour came back to her cheek, and she never looked morestately than when she placed her hand in his, with a graceful bow, andtold him, as he led her away, that 'she was proud to be thought worthyof suffering for her country.' They took her off to prison that night;and it was not without much difficulty and no little bribery that wewere permitted to furnish her with a few of those luxuries that to alady are almost the necessaries of life. We little knew what wascoming. Oh! Mr. Egerton, it makes my blood boil to think of it. Again,I say, were I only a _man_!"
Valerie covered her face with her hands for a few seconds ere sheresumed her tale, speaking in the cold, measured tones of one who forcesthe tongue to utter calmly and distinctly that which is maddening andtearing at the heart.
"We punish our soldiers by making them run the gauntlet between theircomrades, Mr. Egerton, and the process is sufficiently brutal to be afavourite mode of enforcing discipline in the Austrian army. Twohundred troopers form a double line, at arm's-length distance apart, andeach man is supplied with a stout cudgel, which he is ordered to wieldwithout mercy. The victim walks slowly down between the lines, strippedto the waist, and at the pace of an ordinary march. I need hardly saythat ere the unfortunate reaches the most distant files he is indeed aghastly object. I tell you, this high-born lady, one of the proudestwomen in Hungary, was brought out to suffer that degradingpunishment--to be beaten like a hound. They had the grace to leave hera shawl to cover her shoulders; and with her head erect and her armsfolded on her bosom, she stepped nobly down the tyrant's ranks. Thefirst two men refused to strike; they were men, Mr. Egerton, and theypreferred certain punishment to the participation in such an act. Theywere made examples of forthwith. The other troopers obeyed theirorders, and she reached the goal bleeding, bruised, and mangled--she,that beautiful woman, a wife and a mother. Ah! you may grind your teeth,my friend, and your dog there under the sofa may growl, but it is true,I tell you, _true_, I saw her myself when she returned to prison, andshe still walked, _so_ nobly, _so_ proudly, like a Hungarian, even then.Think of our feelings and of those of her own children; think of herhusband's. Mr. Egerton, what would you have done had you been thatwoman's husband?"
"Done!" I exclaimed furiously, for my blood boiled at the bare recitalof such brutality, "I would have shot the Marshal through the heart,wheresoever I met him, were it at the very altar of a church."
Valerie's pale face gleamed with delight at my violence.
"You say well," she exclaimed, clasping her hands together convulsively;"you say well.
Woman as I am, I would have dipped my hands in hisblood. But no, no, revenge is not for slaves like us; we must sufferand be still. Hopeless of redress, and unable to survive suchdishonour, her husband blew his brains out. What would you have? it wasbut a victim the more. But it is not forgotten--no, it is notforgotten, and the Marshal lives in the hearts of our Hungariansoldiers, the object of an undying, unrelenting hatred. I will tell youan instance that occurred but the other day. Two Hungarian riflemen,scarcely more than boys, on furlough from the army of Italy, werepassing through the town where he resides. Weary, footsore, and hungry,they had not wherewithal to purchase a morsel of food. The Kaiser doesnot overpay his army, and allows his uniform to cover the man who begshis bread along the road. An old officer with long moustaches saw thesetwo lads eyeing wistfully the hot joints steaming in the windows of a_cafe_.
"'My lads,' he said, 'you are tired and hungry, why do you not go in anddine?'
"'Excellency,' they replied, 'we come from the army of Italy; we havemarched all the way on foot, we have spent our pittance, and we arestarving.'
"He gave them a few florins and bade them make merry; he could not see asoldier want, he said, for he was a soldier too. The young men steppedjoyfully into the _cafe_, and summoned the waiter forthwith.
"'Do you know,' said he, 'to whom you have just had the honour ofspeaking? that venerable old man is Marshal Haynau.'
"The two soldiers rushed from the room; ere the Marshal had reached theend of the street they had overtaken him; they cast his money at hisfeet, and departed from him with a curse that may have been heard inHeaven, but was happily inaudible at the nearest barrack. So is it withus all; those two soldiers had but heard of his cruelty, whilst I, I hadstood by and seen her wounds dressed after her punishment. Judge if Ido not _love_ him! But, alas! I am but a woman, a poor weak woman;what can I do?"
As she spoke, we heard Victor's step approaching across the lawn, andValerie was once more the graceful, high-born lady, with her assuredcarriage and careless smile. As she took up her embroidery and greetedher brother playfully, with an air from the last new opera, hummed inthe richest, sweetest voice, who would have guessed at the volcano ofpassions concealed beneath that calm and almost frivolous exterior. Arewomen possessed of a double existence, that they can thus change on theinstant from a betrayal of the deepest feelings to a display ofapparently utter heartlessness? or are they only accomplishedhypocrites, gifted with no _real_ character at all, and putting on joyor sorrow, smiles or tears, just as they change their dresses or alterthe trimmings of their bonnets, merely for effect? I was beginning tostudy them now in the person of Valerie, and to draw comparisons betweenthat lady and my own ideal. It is a dangerous occupation, particularlyfor a wounded man; and one better indeed for all of us, in sickness orin health, let alone.