The news of the collapse of the army of the East found our wretchedly
clothed and half-starved hussars still patrolling the environs of
Brest from Belair to the Pont Tournant, and from the banks of the
Elorn clear around the ramparts to Lannion Bay, where the ice-sheathed
iron-clads lay with banked fires off the Port Militaire, and the
goulet guard-boats patrolled the Port de Commerce from the Passe de
l'Ouest to the hook on the Digue and clear around to Cap Espagnol.
All Brest, from the battlements of the Château of St. Martin, in
Belair, was on watch, so wrought up was the governor over the attempt
on the treasure-train. For three months our troopers scarcely left
their saddles, except to be taken to the hospital in Recouvrance.
The rigor of the constant alert wore us to shadows; rockets from the
goulet, the tocsin, the warning boom of a gun from the castle, found
us spurring our jaded horses through ice and snow to scour the
landward banlieue and purge it of a dreaded revolt. The names of Marx,
of Flourens, of Buckhurst, were constantly repeated; news of troubles
at Bordeaux, rumors of the red flag at Marseilles, only served to
increase the rigid system of patrol, which brought death to those in
the trenches as well as to our sleet-soaked videttes.
Suddenly the nightmare ended with a telegram. Paris had surrendered.
Immediately the craze to go beset us all; our improvised squadrons
became clamoring mobs of peasants, wild to go home. Deserters left us
every night; they shot some in full flight; some were shot after
drum-head séances in which Speed and I voted in vain for acquittal.
But affairs grew worse; our men neglected their horses; bands of
fugitives robbed the suburbs, roving about, pillaging, murdering, even
burning the wretched hovels where nothing save the four walls remained
even for the miserable inmates.
Our hussars were sent on patrol again, but they deserted with horses
and arms in scores, until, when we rode into the Rue du Bois d'Amour,
scarce a squadron clattered into the smoky gateway, and the infantry
of the line across the street jeered and cursed us from their
barracks.
On the last day of February our regiment was disbanded, and the
officers ordered to hold themselves in readiness to recruit the débris
of a dragoon regiment, one squadron of which at once took possession
of our miserable barracks.
On the first day of March, by papers from London, we learned that the
war was at an end, and that the preliminary treaty of Sunday, the
26th, had been signed at Versailles.
The same mail brought to me an astonishing offer from Cairo, to assist
in the reorganization and accept a commission in the Egyptian military
police. Speed and I, shivering in our ragged uniforms by the barrack
stove, discussed the matter over a loaf of bread and a few sardines,
until we fell asleep in our greasy chairs and dreamed of hot sunshine,
and of palms, and of a crimson sunset against which a colossal basking
monster, half woman, half lion, crouched, wallowing to her stone
breasts in a hot sea of sand.
When I awoke in the black morning hours I knew that I should go. All
the roaming instinct in me was roused. I, a nomad, had stayed too long
in one stale place; I must be moving on. A feverish longing seized me;
inertia became unbearable; the restless sea called me louder and
louder, thundering on the breakwater; the gulls, wheeling above the
arsenal at dawn, screamed a challenge.
Leave of absence, and permission to travel pending acceptance of my
resignation, I asked for and obtained before the stable trumpets awoke
my comrade from his heavy slumber by the barrack stove.
I made my packet--not much--a few threadbare garments folded around
her letters, one to mark each miserable day that had passed since I
spurred my horse out of Trécourt on the track of the wickedest man I
ever knew.
Speed awoke with the trumpets, and stared at me where I knelt before
the stove in my civilian clothes, strapping up my little packet.
"Oh," he said, briefly, "I knew you were going."
"So did I," I replied. "Will you ride to Trécourt with me? I have
two weeks' permission for you."
He had no clothing but the uniform he wore, and no baggage except a
razor, a shirt, a tooth-brush, and a bundle of letters, all written on
Madame de Vassart's crested paper, but not signed by her.
We bolted our breakfast of soup and black bread, and bawled for our
horses, almost crazed with impatience, now that the moment had come at
last.
"Good-bye!" shouted the shivering dragoon officers, wistfully, as we
wheeled our horses and spurred, clattering, towards the black gates.
"Good-bye and good luck! We drink to those you love, comrades!"
"And they shall drink to you! Good-bye! Good-bye!" we cried, till the
salt sea-wind tore the words from our teeth and bowed our heads as we
galloped through the suburbs and out into the icy high-road, where,
above us, the telegraph-wires sang their whirring dirge, and the wind
in the gorse whistled, and the distant forest sounded and resounded
with the gale's wailing.
On, on, hammering the flinty road with steel-shod hoofs, racing with
the racing clouds, thundering across the pontoon, where benumbed
soldiers huddled to stare, then bounding forward through the narrow
lanes of hamlets, where pinched faces peered out at us from hovels,
and gaunt dogs fled from us into the frozen hedge.
Far ahead we caught sight of the smoke of a locomotive.
"Landerneau!" gasped Speed. "Ride hard, Scarlett!"
The station-master saw us and halted the moving train at a frantic
signal from Speed, whose uniform was to be reckoned with by all
station-masters, and ten minutes later we stood swaying in a
cattle-car, huddled close to our horses to keep warm, while the
locomotive tore eastward, whistling frantically, and an ocean of black
smoke poured past, swarming with sparks. Crossing the Aune trestle
with a ripping roar, the train rushed through Châteaulin, south, then
east, then south.
Toward noon, Speed, clinging to the stall-bars, called out to me that
he could see Quimper, and in a few moments we rolled into the station,
dropped two cars, and steamed out again into the beautiful Breton
country, where the winter wheat was green as new grass and the gorse
glimmered, and the clear streams rushed seaward between their thickets
of golden willows and green briers, already flushing with the promise
of new buds.
Rosporden we passed at full speed; scarcely a patch of melting snow
remained at Bannalec; and when we steamed slowly into Quimperlé, the
Laïta ran crystal-clear as a summer stream, and I saw the faint blue
of violets on the southern slope of the beech-woods.
Some gendarmes aided us to disembark our horses, and a sub-officer
respectfully offered us hospitality at the barracks across the square;
but we were in our saddles the moment our horses' hoofs struck the
pavement, galloping for Paradise, with a sweet, keen wind blowing,
hinting already of the sea.
This was that same road which led me into Paradise on that autumn day
which seemed years and years ago. The forests were leafless but
beautiful; the blackthorns already promised their scented snow to
follow the last melting drift which still glimmered among the trees in
deep woodland gullies. A violet here and there looked up at us with
blue eyes; in sheltered spots, fresh, reddish sprouts pricked the
moist earth, here a whorl of delicate green, there a tender spike,
guarding some imprisoned loveliness; buds on the beeches were
brightening under a new varnish; naked thickets, no longer dead gray,
softened into harmonies of pink and gold and palest purple.
Once, halting at a bridge, above the quick music of the stream we
heard an English robin singing all alone.
"I never longed for spring as I do now," broke out Speed. "The
horror of this black winter has scarred me forever--the deathly
whiteness, month after month; the freezing filth of that ghastly city;
the sea, all slime and ice!"
"Gallop," I said, shuddering. "I can smell the moors of Paradise
already. The winds will cleanse us."
We spoke no more; and at last the road turned to the east, down among
the trees, and we were traversing the square of Paradise village,
where white-capped women turned to look after us, and children stared
at us from their playground around the fountain, and the sleek magpies
fluttered out of our path as we galloped over the bridge and breasted
the sweet, strong moor wind, spicy with bay and gorse.
Speed flung out his arm, pointing. "The circus camp was there," he
said. "They have ploughed the clover under."
A moment later I saw the tower of Trécourt, touched with a ray of
sunshine, and the sea beyond, glittering under a clearing sky.
As we dismounted in the court-yard the sun flashed out from the
fringes of a huge, snowy cloud.
"There is Jacqueline!" cried Speed, tossing his bridle to me in his
excitement, and left me planted there until a servant came from the
stable.
Then I followed, every nerve quivering, almost dreading to set foot
within, lest happiness awake me and I find myself in the freezing
barracks once more, my brief dream ended.
In the hallway a curious blindness came over me. I heard Jacqueline
call my name, and I felt her hands in mine, but scarcely saw her; then
she slipped away from me, and I found myself seated in the little
tea-room, listening to the dull, double beat of my own heart,
trembling at distant sounds in the house--waiting, endlessly waiting.
After a while a glimmer of common-sense returned to me. I squared my
shoulders and breathed deeply, then rose and walked to the window.
The twigs on the peach-trees had turned wine-color; around the roots
of the larkspurs delicate little palmated leaves clustered; crocus
spikes pricked the grass everywhere, and the tall, polished shoots of
the peonies glistened, glowing crimson in the sun. A heavy cat sunned
its sleek flanks on the wall, brilliant eyes half closed, tail tucked
under. Ange Pitou had grown very fat in three months.
A step at the door, and I wheeled, trembling. But it was only a Breton
maid, who bore some letters on a salver of silver.
"For me?" I asked.
"If you please," she said, demurely.
Two letters, and I knew the writing on one. The first I read
standing:
"Buffalo, N. Y., Feb. 3, 1871.
"Mr. Scarlett, Dear Sir and Friend,--Trusting you're
well I am pleased to admit the same, the blind Goddess
having smiled on me and the circus since we quit that
damn terra firma for a more peeceful climb.
"We are enjoying winter quarters near to the majestic
phenomena of Niagara, fodder is cheap and vittles
bountiful.
"Would be pleased to have you entertain idees of
joining us, and the same to Mr. Speed--you can take the
horses. I have a lion man from Jersey City. We open in
Charleston S. C. next week no more of La continong for
me, savvy voo! home is good enough for me. That
little Jacqueline left me I got a girl and am training
her but she ain't Jacqueline. Annimals are well Mrs.
Grigg sends her love and is joined by all especially
the ladies and others too numerous to mention. Hoping
to hear from you soon about the horses I remain yours
truly and courteously,
"H. Byram Esq."
The second letter I opened carelessly, smiling a little:
"New York, Feb. 1, 1871.
"Dear Mr. Scarlett,--We were married yesterday. We have
life before us, but are not afraid. I shall never
forget you; my wife can never forget the woman you
love. We have both passed through hell--but we have
passed through alive. And we pray for the happiness of
you and yours.
"Kelly Eyre."
Sobered, I laid this letter beside the first, turned thoughtfully away
into the room, then stood stock-still.
The Countess de Vassart stood in the doorway, a smile trembling on her
lips. In her gray eyes I read hope; and I took her hands in mine. She
stood silent with bent head, exquisite in her silent shyness; and I
told her I loved her, and that I asked for her love; that I had found
employment in Egypt, and that it was sufficient to justify my asking
her to wed me.
"As for my name," I said, "you know that is not the name I bear;
yet, knowing that, you have given me your love. You read my dossier in
Paris; you know why I am alone, without kin, without a family,
without a home. Yet you believe that I am not tainted with dishonor.
And I am not. Listen, this is what happened; this is why I gave up
all; and ... this is my name!" ...
And I bent my head and whispered the truth for the first time in my
life to any living creature.
When I had ended I stood still, waiting, head still bowed beside
hers.
She laid her hand on my hot face and slowly drew it close beside
hers.
"What shall I promise you?" she whispered.
"Yourself, Éline."
"Take me.... Is that all?"
"Your love."
She turned in my arms and clasped her hands behind my head, pressing
her mouth to mine.