Mated from the Morgue: A Tale of the Second Empire

  CHAPTER IX.

  A SOLDIER OF FORTUNE.

  On the day following the events detailed in our last chapter, O'Hara wasseated in his chamber, hard at work at his desk, when a visitorannounced himself at the door. It was the O'Hoolohan Roe--in the oldsuit.

  'Take a seat--scribbling away for the bare life, as you see. Justfinished.'

  'I've come to ask you a favour. I presume you'll grant it.'

  'Certainly, always presuming that it is such as a gentleman can grant.'

  'Still harping on the old string.'

  'Sir,' said O'Hara, getting annoyed, 'I have the misfortune to a certainextent to be your debtor; but I am not your valet. Here, take back thehundred francs you lent me, and we shall speak on more equal terms,'holding out his purse.

  'Did I ever ask you for it?'

  'I insist on your taking it.'

  'If I do, I'm blest if I don't give it to the first beggar I meet on thehighway.'

  'That as you like, sir. I'm not a beggar--nor yet a barbarian.'

  'Ha, ha, ha! That's really good. Now, tell me, who should lose histemper? Here, I take the money and beg your pardon. I didn't think youwere so thin-skinned.'

  'Thin-skinned! Thank you for that expression.'

  'What better could you expect from a barbarian?'

  O'Hara could not resist a smile.

  'Well, now,' continued his visitor, 'that you're getting into betterhumour I'll try and put on my good manners. The favour I'm going to askof you is not much; but it's hardly fair to ask it of you withouttelling you who and what I am. Would you like to hear my history?'

  'Candidly, I would.'

  'Then, attend,' said his visitor, assuming a more serious air, and aftera short pause, in which he seemed to be running over the hoards ofmemory, he thus commenced:

  'My life is briefly told. It has been a hard life, a life of struggling,written in plain black and white, and as such I'll tell it to you. Ihaven't the genius of a romancer to make it picturesque. I was born inCork----'

  'The city?'

  'Yes, the beautiful city.'

  'Some of our most eminent literary worthies came from Cork.'

  'Well, I'm not one of them--my father was, though, in a way. He kept aclassical and mathematical school which was well supported, and calledhimself a philomath, whatever that meant. My mother was a big-hearted,kind woman who never sent a beggar empty-handed from her door, andbelieved her husband the most learned man the world ever saw. But if sheworshipped her husband, she adored her son.'

  'She was a woman,' sententiously remarked O'Hara.

  'That's it, I suppose,' resumed O'Hoolohan with a sigh. 'Of course shemust have been,' he added, after thinking a little, as if a newrevelation had dawned upon him. 'Anyhow, he wasn't as good a boy as heought to have been, and 'tis sorry he is to-day to have to own it. Well,it's no use crying over spilt milk. To get on with my tale. I raked andI rambled--I may as well make a clean breast of it--and in the end Itook a liking to a cavalry uniform I saw in Ballincollig, and I 'listed.My father paid the smart-money, my mother cried, and I was lugged home.Then they bound me to a saddler. After a month I 'listed again: hebought me off again, and the old game of tears from the mother andpromises of repentance from the hopeful youth, and stern majesty fromthe father, was repeated. Six months after, the quicksilver got up in myconstitution again. I determined not to be balked this time, so I wentto the old fellow, said I was going to 'list, and wouldn't be boughtout.

  '"Mother'll buy you out," says he.

  '"I'll 'list again," says I; "see who'll get tired of that trick first."

  '"She prevailed on you to leave off your soldiering notions twicebefore," said he again.

  '"The third time has the charm," was my answer.

  'He reflected awhile: "Well, if you will be a soldier, I suppose it'swrong to bar such a fine fellow the chance of getting a bullet in hishead."

  '"Oh!" said I gaily, "the man that is born to be hanged will never beshot."

  '"Go your way, then," said he.

  '"You'd better let me have that one-and-twenty shillings smart you usedto pay, to drink your long life, and a healthy thirst for learning tothe rising generation of Corkonians."

  'If I hadn't ducked my head at the moment, I mightn't be here to tellyou. He had levelled "lamb and salad," as he used to call hisslapper--the superannuated bolt of an outhouse--at the place where mybrains ought to have been. The good man had a temper of his own.'

  'Is he no more?'

  'These ten years. So is my mother, and if I ever go back to Irelandagain, one of the businesses that will take me there is to put a stoneover their graves. The regiment which I joined was one of the mediumcavalry, and my knowledge of saddlery stood me in good stead. Because ofit I got promoted, which was not an ordinary piece of luck, for thecorps was an English one, and a Paddy had little chance of the stripesanywhere except on his back. It was in the Tangiers Horse I learned tobe a rebel and a democrat. To see young spooneys, fresh from theirmother's apron-strings, spooneys not able to grow a beard, hemming andhawing on a parade-ground, and strutting about in command of oldsoldiers that were black with powder before they were born! It sickenedme, I tell you Pshaw! All men are equal.'

  'As all the fingers of our hand are of the same length,' quietlyobserved O'Hara.

  The democratic dragoon did not regard the interruption, but continued:

  'It was during the Repeal Agitation I enlisted, and our regiment neverleft the shores of England. We moved about from Manchester to Sheffield,and from Sheffield to York, but never too far from Ireland. I watchedthe excitement as it grew, and waited the moment till it would come toblows. I was an Irishman before I was a soldier, thought I, and I'llnever wear a sabre against my country. I went to the colonel anddemanded my discharge. I had saved enough in the saddlery workshop topay for it.

  '"Can't give any men their discharge now, especially a useful man likeyou."

  'My resolution was taken on the spot. "All right, sir," I said; "Isuppose I must put up with the disappointment."

  'That night I deserted and put a letter with the money I had saved tobuy myself out in the Post Office, and started for this city. I wasalways anxious to see foreign parts. I soon ran through my rhino, andthen, although I couldn't speak the language, the trade I had at myfingers' ends stood my friend. But the old passion grew on me, and Ijoined the Foreign Legion in the French Service. I campaigned four yearsamong the Kabyles in Algeria, and then, the Crimean War breaking out, Iwas taken as volunteer into the battalion of ours that went out with theArmy of the East. I served through the awful winters before Sebastopol,served from the Alma to the Tchernaya, and came back with an honourabledischarge, and not a scratch on my body. I stopped in Paris againawhile--I make this city my harbour of refuge, the place where I put into refit always--but the Lombardy campaign of '59 broke out. I didn'tcare to enter into another engagement under the tricolour--it was toolong--so I applied for a commission in a guerrilla corps in the ItalianService, and they were glad to take me on. We finished Austria at thedouble-quick; I was into the thick of the whole bloody six weeks' workfrom Turbigo to Solferino, and came off with the medal for militarydistinction and a sabre-cut on my left elbow. I laid up for awhile,nursing my wound and spending my money in old Paris. In 1860 I was inharness again, but this time a free-lance. I was one of the thousand ofGaribaldi, landed with him at Marsala, marched with him through Palermo,crossed over with him to the mainland, fought by his side at theVolturno, and entered Naples in his triumphal procession on the ViaToledo, after he had driven out Bombalino, the dirty Bourbon.'

  'Why, you have been a regular soldier of fortune! What a lot of fightingyou have seen!'

  'There is more to come, on the other side of the ocean. After a shortstay in Paris again, I left from Havre by the _Pereire_ for New York;didn't like it, and travelled down South to Carolina. I was there whenthe first shot was fired at Sumter, and I threw in my fortunes with thePalmetto flag.'

  'I wonder at a democrat do
ing that,' remarked O'Hara.

  'Oh! you are of those who imagine the North was fighting to put downslavery in that war,' said his visitor.

  'Not entirely, but I'd expect an Irish democrat would range him underthe Stars and Stripes.'

  'And I might have expected that the natural place for an Irish rebel tohave ranged himself was on the side of the "rebels," as they werecalled. But to cut that matter short, it was very much a question oflocality with most Irishmen.'

  'I am satisfied. Go on.'

  'There is not far to go now. I'm nearly at the end of my tether. I got acaptain's command in the cavalry, served under General Stuart, and lefta colonel, but broken-down in health, spirits and purse, like most ofthe noble fellows who strove to lift on high the bonnie blue flag.Fortunately I had secured some money behind me here in Paris before Ihad left for America--I had always an eye to the main chance in mycampaigning, and had been able to save enough to sign myself_rentier_--my annuity had been accumulating in my absence, and I foundmyself comparatively well off. I have been gathering health in the twoyears since, and now I sometimes itch for work again. I should embarkfor Mexico, to join the guerrillas, but that I scruple fighting againstmy old comrades of Africa, the Crimea, and Italy. Sentimental, isn'tit?'

  'No; on the contrary, a quite healthy feeling, and I respect you forit,' said O'Hara.

  'Well, I have told you my history.'

  'Without telling me your name.'

  'You knew that already. I dropped it the other night casually in theheat of conversation.'

  'And, pray, how did you discover mine?'

  'Nothing simpler in the world. You remember the famous old coat of yoursthat the dog carried from the Morgue. Your last card fell out of it.'

  'How did you know it was my card?'

  'It was wrapped in tissue-paper. Men are not in the habit of keepingtheir neighbours' cards with so much care.'

  O'Hara gave a long low whistle.

  'And now that I have told you so much about _my_self, will you answer mea question about _your_self?' resumed O'Hoolohan.

  'You know my conditions.'

  'Well, then, why were you so poor when I first met you?'

  'I will answer you truly. Because I haven't self-control and firmness ofmind enough to keep money when I get it--in a word, because I'm anIrishman. I receive a monthly allowance, and, as I wrote to a friend theother day, the first week in the month I am the King of Yvetot, thesecond comes good resolution on the heel of terrible reaction, the thirdis my week of work and philosophy, and the fourth----'

  'Aye, the fourth?'

  'Why, in the fourth I generally think of throwing myself off the PontNeuf.'

  'Ha! and I came upon you at the close of your fourth week?'

  'That's just it.'

  'Alas!' said O'Hoolohan, rising, 'that is one of our national failings.We never think of to-morrow. I had it myself, but the discipline of thebarrack-yard made me methodical and gave me habits of order that grewinto my nature. If I hadn't some foresight when I had the means ofearning money; I would be in debt to-day and the debtor is a slave. Itell you what, sir, one of the worst lessons we Irish want to learn isthe lesson of thrift--to put by something when the sun shines againstthe rainy day.'

  O'Hara felt himself colouring, but his visitor had delicacy enough topretend not to see it.

  'Now, may I crave the favour I came for?' asked O'Hoolohan as he rose toleave.

  'Assuredly.'

  'Will you be my best man at the church of Saint Etienne du Mont in acertain ceremony one of these mornings?'

  'With a heart-and-a-half; but have you really proposed?'

  'Aye, and been accepted. I never fight my battles by halves.'

  'Then,' said O'Hara, grasping his hands in a cordial grip, 'I sincerelywish you joy. Count upon me to turn up at the wedding in full fig withmy holiday face on.'

  'Thanks,' said O'Hoolohan, 'thanks. I knew you were a brick. For thepresent, farewell. The splicing will take place as soon as it can bemanaged--but be sure I'll let you know in time;' and he moved towardsthe door. As he reached the threshold he suddenly stopped and exclaimed,'By Mars the immortal! I was near forgetting. This is what comes ofbeing in love. I have another service to ask of you.'

  'Name it, by all means.'

  'Oh! it's a mere formality. Will you be my second in a duel?'

  'With the greatest pleasure in life,' said O'Hara; 'but, stay, whichcomes off first, the wedding or the duel?'

  O'Hoolohan cogitated for awhile as if he had not given that a thoughtbefore.

  'The duel first--of course, the duel first!' he exclaimed. 'The weddingcan wait, but the other, you know, is an affair of honour.'

  'Hadn't you better let me know something about the quarrel? We may beable to arrange it.'

  'Not likely,' said O'Hoolohan drily. 'I must be fairly bothered,' headded. 'Now that I recollect, it was to tell you all about the quarrel Icame here expressly, but one thing has driven the other clean out of mymind.'

  'Sit down,' said O'Hara, 'and go ahead.'