The Shoes of Fortune

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  THE MAN WITH THE TARTAN WAISTCOAT

  It was the first of May. But for Father Hamilton's birds, and somescanty signs of it in the small garden, the lengthened day and thekindlier air of the evenings, I might never have known what season itwas out of the almanac, for all seasons were much the same, no doubt, inthe Isle of the City where the priest and I sequestered. 'Twas ever theshade of the tenements there; the towers of the churches never greenednor budded; I would have waited long, in truth, for the scent of thelilac and the chatter of the rook among these melancholy temples.

  Till that night I had never ventured farther from the gloomy vicinity ofthe hospital than I thought I could safely retrace without the necessityof asking any one the way; but this night, more courageous, or perhapsmore careless than usual, I crossed the bridge of Notre Dame and foundmyself in something like the Paris of the priest's rhapsodies and thesame all thrilling with the passion of the summer. It was not flower nortree, though these were not wanting, but the spirit in the air--younggirls laughing in the by-going with merriest eyes, windows wide openletting out the sounds of songs, the pavements like a river withzesty life of Highland hills when the frosts above are broken and theoverhanging boughs have been flattering it all the way in the valleys.

  I was fair infected. My step, that had been unco' dull and heavy, Ifear, and going to the time of dirges on the Isle, went to a differenttune; my being rhymed and sang. I had got the length of the Rue deRichelieu and humming to myself in the friendliest key, with thegood-natured people pressing about me, when of a sudden it began torain. There was no close in the neighbourhood where I could shelter fromthe elements, but in front of me was the door of a tavern called theTete du Duc de Burgoyne shining with invitation, and in I went.

  A fat wife sat at a counter; a pot-boy, with a cry of "V'ia!" that waslike a sheep's complaining, served two ancient citizens in skull-capsthat played the game of dominoes, and he came to me with my humble orderof a litre of ordinary and a piece of bread for the good of the house.

  Outside the rain pelted, and the folks upon the pavement ran, andby-and-by the tavern-room filled up with shelterers like myself and keptthe pot-boy busy. Among the last to enter was a group of five that tooka seat at another corner of the room than that where I sat my lone at alittle table. At first I scarcely noticed them until I heard a wordof Scots. I think the man that used it spoke of "gully-knives," but atleast the phrase was the broadest lallands, and went about my heart.

  I put down my piece of bread and looked across the room in wonder to seethat three of the men were gazing intently at myself. The fourth washid by those in front of him; the fifth that had spoken had a tartanwaistcoat and eyes that were like a gled's, though they were not on me.In spite of that, 'twas plain that of me he spoke, and that I was theobject of some speculation among them.

  No one that has not been lonely in a foreign town, and hungered forcommunion with those that know his native tongue, can guess how much Ilonged for speech with this compatriot that in dress and eye and accentbrought back the place of my nativity in one wild surge of memory.Every bawbee in my pocket would not have been too much to pay for sucha privilege, but it might not be unless the overtures came from thepersons in the corner.

  Very deliberately, though all in a commotion within, I ate my piece anddrank my wine before the stare of the three men, and at last, on thewhisper of one of them, another produced a box of dice.

  "No, no!" said the man with the tartan waistcoat hurriedly, with aglance from the tail of his eye at me, but they persisted in theirpurpose and began to throw. My countryman in tartan got the last chance,of which he seemed reluctant to avail himself till the one unseen said:"_Vous avez le de'_, Kilbride."

  Kilbride! the name was the call of whaups at home upon the moors!

  He laughed, shook, and tossed carelessly, and then the laugh was allwith them, for whatever they had played for he had seemingly lost andthe dice were now put by.

  He rose somewhat confused, looked dubiously across at me with areddening face, and then came over with his hat in his hand.

  "Pardon, Monsieur," he began; then checked the French, and said: "Have Ia countryman here?"

  "It is like enough," said I, with a bow and looking at his tartan. "I amfrom Scotland myself."

  He smiled at that with a look of some relief and took a vacant chair onthe other side of my small table.

  "I have come better speed with my impudence," said he in the Hielan'accent, "than I expected or deserved. My name's Kilbride--MacKellar ofKilbride--and I am here with another Highland gentleman of the name ofGrant and two or three French friends we picked up at the door of theplay-house. Are you come off the Highlands, if I make take the liberty?"

  "My name is lowland," said I, "and I hail from the shire of Renfrew."

  "Ah," said he, with a vanity that was laughable. "What a pity! I wishyou had been Gaelic, but of course you cannot help it being otherwise,and indeed there are many estimable persons in the lowlands."

  "And a great wheen of Highland gentlemen very glad to join them theretoo," said I, resenting the implication.

  "Of course, of course," said he heartily. "There is no occasion foroffence."

  "Confound the offence, Mr. MacKellar!" said I. "Do you not think I amjust too glad at this minute to hear a Scottish tongue and see a tartanwaistcoat? Heilan' or Lowlan', we are all the same" when our feet areoff the heather.

  "Not exactly," he corrected, "but still and on we understand each other.You must be thinking it gey droll, sir, that a band of strangers in acommon tavern would have the boldness to stare at you like my friendsthere, and toss a dice about you in front of your face, but that is thedifference between us. If I had been in your place I would have thrownthe jug across at them, but here I am not better nor the rest, becausethe dice fell to me, and I was one that must decide the wadger."

  "Oh, and was I the object of a wadger?" said I, wondering what we werecoming to.

  "Indeed, and that you were," said he shamefacedly, "and I'm affrontedto tell it. But when Grant saw you first he swore you were a countryman,and there was some difference of opinion."

  "And what, may I ask, did Kilbride side with?"

  "Oh," said he promptly, "I had never a doubt about that. I knew you wereScots, but what beat me was to say whether you were Hielan' or Lowlan'.""And how, if it's a fair question, did you come to the conclusion that Iwas a countryman of any sort?" said I.

  He laughed softly, and "Man," said he, "I could never make any mistakeabout that, whatever of it. There's many a bird that's like thewoodcock, but the woodcock will aye be kennin' which is which, as theother man said. Thae bones were never built on bread and wine. It's aFrench coat you have there, and a cockit hat (by your leave), but to myview you were as plainly from Scotland as if you had a blue bonnet onyour head and a sprig of heather in your lapels. And here am I givingyou the strange cow's welcome (as the other man said), and that is allinquiry and no information. You must just be excusing our bit foolishwadger, and if the proposal would come favourably from myself, that isof a notable family, though at present under a sort of cloud, as theother fellow said, I would be proud to have you share in the bottle ofwine that was dependent upon Grant's impudent wadger. I can pass my wordfor my friends there that they are all gentry like ourselves--of thevery best, in troth, though not over-nice in putting this task onmyself."

  I would have liked brawly to spend an hour out any company than my own,but the indulgence was manifestly one involving the danger of discovery;it was, as I told myself, the greatest folly to be sitting in a tavernat all, so MacKellar's manner immediately grew cold when he saw aswithering in my countenance.

  "Of course," said he, reddening and rising, "of course, every gentlemanhas his own affairs, and I would be the last to make a song of it ifyou have any dubiety about my friends and me. I'll allow the thing looksvery like a gambler's contrivance."

  "No, no, Mr. MacKellar," said I hurriedly, unwilling to let us partlike
that, "I'm swithering here just because I'm like yoursel' of it andunder a cloud of my own."

  "Dod! Is that so?" said he quite cheerfully again, and clapping down,"then I'm all the better pleased that the thing that made the roebuckswim the loch--and that's necessity--as the other man said, should havedriven me over here to precognosce you. But when you say you are undera cloud, that is to make another way of it altogether, and I will not beasking you over, for there is a gentleman there among the five of us whomight be making trouble of it."

  "Have you a brother in Glasgow College?" says I suddenly, putting aquestion that had been in my mind ever since he had mentioned his name.

  "Indeed, and I have that," said he quickly, "but now he is following thelaw in Edinburgh, where I am in the hopes it will be paying him betterthan ever it paid me that has lost two fine old castles and the bestpart of a parish by the same. You'll not be sitting there and telling mesurely that you know my young brother Alasdair?"

  "Man! him and me lodged together in Lucky Grant's, in Crombie's Land inthe High Street, for two Sessions," said I.

  "What!" said MacKellar. "And you'll be the lad that snow-balled thebylie, and your name will be Greig?"

  As he said it he bent to look under the table, then drew up suddenlywith a startled face and a whisper of a whistle on his lips.

  "My goodness!" said he, in a cautious tone, "and that beats all. You'llbe the lad that broke jyle with the priest that shot at Buhot, and thereyou are, you _amadain_, like a gull with your red brogues on you, crying'come and catch me' in two languages. I'm telling you to keep thae feetof yours under this table till we're out of here, if it should be themorn's morning. No--that's too long, for by the morn's morning Buhot'smen will be at the Hotel Dieu, and the end of the story will be littletalk and the sound of blows, as the other man said."

  Every now and then as he spoke he would look over his shoulder with aquick glance at his friends--a very anxious man, but no more anxiousthan Paul Greig.

  "Mercy on us!" said I, "do you tell me you ken all that?"

  "I ken a lot more than that," said he, "but that's the latest of mybudget, and I'm giving it to you for the sake of the shoes and mybrother Alasdair, that is a writer in Edinburgh. There's not twoScotchmen drinking a bowl in Paris town this night that does not kenyour description, and it's kent by them at the other table there--wherebetter?--but because you have that coat on you that was surely made foryou when you were in better health, as the other man said, and becauseyour long trams of legs and red shoes are under the table there's noneof them suspects you. And now that I'm thinking of it, I would not gonear the hospital place again."

  "Oh! but the priest's there," said I, "and it would never do for me to beleaving him there without a warning."

  "A warning!" said MacKellar with contempt. "I'm astonished to hear you,Mr. Greig. The filthy brock that he is!"

  "If you're one of the Prince's party," said I, "and it has every look ofit, or, indeed, whether you are or not, I'll allow you have some causeto blame Father Hamilton, but as for me, I'm bound to him because wehave been in some troubles together."

  "What's all this about 'bound to him'?" said MacKellar with a kind ofsneer. "The dog that's tethered with a black pudding needs no pity, asthe other man said, and I would leave this fellow to shift for himself."

  "Thank you," said I, "but I'll not be doing that."

  "Well, well," said he, "it's your business, and let me tell you thatyou're nothing but a fool to be tangled up with the creature. That'sKilbride's advice to you. Let me tell you this more of it, that they'renot troubling themselves much about you at all now that you have giventhem the information."

  "Information!" I said with a start. "What do you mean by that?"

  He prepared to join his friends, with a smile of some slyness, and gaveme no satisfaction on the point.

  "You'll maybe ken best yourself," said he, "and I'm thinking yourname will have to be Robertson and yourself a decent Englishman for myfriends on the other side of the room there. Between here and yonderI'll have to be making up a bonny lie or two that will put them off thescent of you."

  A bonny lie or two seemed to serve the purpose, for their interest in meappeared to go no further, and by-and-by, when it was obvious that therewould be no remission of the rain, they rose to go.

  The last that went out of the door turned on the threshold and looked atme with a smile of recognition and amusement.

  It was Buhot!