The Serapion Brethren Volume Ii Part 39

In the daytime a profound stillness as of the grave reigned around Edgar's room, but in the night he often thought he heard in the distance the echo of soft footfalls, the hollow murmur of many voices together, the opening and shutting of doors, the clatter of weapons.

Some subterranean action seemed to be going on during the hours of sleep. Edgar questioned the Franciscan, who only--and that rarely--quitted him for an instant or two, tending him with the most unwearied care. But the Franciscan was of opinion that as soon as Edgar was well he would hear from Don Rafaele what it was that was going on.

And this was so. For when Edgar was well enough to leave his bed, Don Rafaele came one night with a lighted torch and begged Edgar to dress and follow him with Father Eusebio, which was the name of the Franciscan, his doctor and nurse.

Don Rafaele led him through a long and rather narrow pa.s.sage till they came to a closed door, which was opened on Don Rafaele's knocking.

How amazed was Edgar to find himself in a s.p.a.cious vaulted chamber brilliantly lighted, in which there was a numerous a.s.semblage of persons for the most part of wild, dirty, sullen appearance. In the middle stood a man who, though dressed like the commonest peasant, with wild hair and all the marks of a homeless, nomadic life, had in all his bearing something of the dauntless and the awe-aspiring. The features of his face were n.o.ble, and from his eyes flashed a warlike fire which bespoke the hero. To him Don Rafaele conducted his friend, announcing him as the brave young German whom he had rescued from the enemy, and who was prepared to take part in the grand contest for the freedom of Spain. Then Don Rafaele, turning to Edgar, said, "You are here in the heart of Valenzia, which is besieged by our enemies--the hearth on which burns for ever that fire whose unquenchable flame, ever blazing up with renewed vigour, is destined to destroy our accursed foe when the moment comes when, misled by his fallacious successes, he shall surpa.s.s himself in defiant arrogance. You are here in the subterranean vaults of the Franciscan Monastery. Along a hundred bye-paths unknown to betrayers the chiefs of the brave make their way to this spot, and hence, as from a focus, they dart in all directions rays which carry death and destruction to foreigners. Don Edgar, we look upon you as one of ourselves. Take your part in the glory of our undertakings."

Empecinado (for the man dressed as a peasant was none other than the renowned Guerilla chieftain)--Empecinado, whose fearless daring formed the theme of many a popular tale amounting to the miraculous--who set at defiance all the efforts of the enemy, like some incarnation of the spirit of vengeance, who when he had vanished without a trace would suddenly burst forth with redoubled force--who at the very moment when the enemy announced the utter annihilation of his bands would suddenly appear at the very gates of Madrid, placing the Pretender's life in danger--this Empecinado took Edgar by the hand, addressing him in enthusiastic words.

At this point in the proceedings a young man was brought in bound. His face, of deathly pallor, wore all the signs of hopeless despair; he was trembling, and appeared to find it difficult to stand upright when placed in the presence of Empecinado. The latter pierced him through and through with his glance of fire, and at length spoke to him, in a tone of the most appalling calmness. "Antonio," he said, "you are in league with the enemy. You have several times had interviews with Souchet, at unusual hours. You endeavoured to hand over, by treachery, our Place d'Armes at Cuenca."--"It is so," answered Antonio, with a terrible sigh, not raising his bowed-down head. "Is it possible," cried Empecinado, breaking out into the wildest anger, "is it possible that you are a Spaniard--that the blood of your ancestors runs in your veins? Was not your mother Virtue personified? Would not the slightest suspicion that she was capable of betraying the honour of her house be an atrocious outrage? But for this I should believe you to be a b.a.s.t.a.r.d sprung from the most despicable race on earth. You have merited death.

Prepare yourself to die."

Antonio threw himself at Empecinado's feet in anguish and despair, crying, "Uncle! uncle! do you not know that all the furies of h.e.l.l are rending my breast. There are times--often--when the subtlety of Satan can bring anything to pa.s.s. Yes, uncle, I am a Spaniard. Let me prove it. Be merciful. Grant that I may blot out the disgrace which the most abominable arts of h.e.l.l have brought upon me--that I may appear to you and to the Brethren purified from my offence. You understand me, uncle?

You know the reason of my so imploring you!"

Empecinado seemed somewhat moved by the young man's entreaties. He raised him, and said gently, "Your repentance is sincere. You are right in saying that the cunning of Satan is able to accomplish much. I know the reason of your entreaty. I pardon you. Son of my dear sister, come to my heart!" Empecinado with his own hands untied his bonds, embraced him, and at once handed to him the dagger from his own girdle. "My thanks," the young man cried. He kissed Empecinado's hands, bedewing them with his tears, then he raised his eyes to heaven in prayer, and drove the dagger deep into his heart, falling dead without a sound.

This occurrence so shook the invalid Edgar that he nearly fainted.

Father Eusebio took him back to his chamber.

Some weeks afterwards Don Rafaele Marchez considered that it was safe for him to liberate his friend from the prison in which he could not recover his health. He took him, in the night, up to a room which had windows looking out upon an unfrequented street, and warned him not to cross the threshold--at all events in the daytime, by reason that the French were quartered in the house.

Edgar could not explain to himself the irresistible desire which one day seized him to go out into the corridor. At the very instant that he did so the door of the room opposite opened, and a French officer came out meeting him.

"Why how came _you_ here, friend Edgar!" cried the Frenchman. "Welcome a thousand times!" Edgar had at once recognized him as Colonel la Combe of the Imperial Guard. Chance had brought this Colonel, just at the time of Germany's terrible degradation, to his uncle's house, where he himself was living, having had to abandon his military career. La Combe came from the south of France. Through the tenderness (by no means a common characteristic of his nation) with which he dealt with those who were so bitterly tried, he succeeded in overcoming the deep dislike--nay, the irreconcilable hatred, which was so firmly rooted in Edgar's soul against the arrogant foe, and finally, by virtue of certain traits of character, which placed beyond all doubt the true n.o.bility of la Combe's nature, in gaming his friends.h.i.+p.

"Edgar," cried the Colonel, "what has brought _you_ to Valenzia?"

It may be imagined how sorely the question embarra.s.sed Edgar. He could make no reply. The Colonel gazed at him gravely, and said in a serious tone. "Ah, I understand. You have given the rein to your animosity--you have drawn your sword for the imagined freedom of a nation of madmen, and I cannot blame you for it. I should be forming a very poor opinion of your friends.h.i.+p if I could suppose you capable of imagining that I could betray you. No, my friend; now that I have found you, you are in absolute safety for the first time. From this moment you shall be n.o.body but the commercial traveller of a German house of business in Ma.r.s.eilles, an old acquaintance of mine. So no more about that." Much as it distressed Edgar, la Combe did not rest until he quitted his hermitage, and shared with him the better quarters provided for him by Don Rafaele.

Edgar hastened to acquaint the suspicious Spaniard with all the circ.u.mstances of the case, and his previous relations with la Combe.

Don Rafaele restricted himself to the answer, delivered in a grave and dry manner--

"Really; that is a very curious chance indeed!"

The Colonel sympathized keenly with Edgar's position. At the same time he could not divest himself of the characteristic temper of his nation, which sees in liveliness of movement, and the eager pursuit of pleasure, the best means of healing a wounded heart. Thus it happened that the Colonel walked arm in arm with the Ma.r.s.eilles commercial traveller in the Alameda, and drew him into the wild amus.e.m.e.nts of his light-hearted comrades.

Edgar noticed, clearly enough, that many strange forms dogged him about, watching him with suspicious looks; and it went deeply to his heart when, one day on entering a Posada with the Colonel, he heard distinctly behind him a whisper of "Acqui esta el trador!" ("That is the traitor.")

Don Rafaele grew daily more cold and monosyllabic towards Edgar, and at last he saw him no more, and was given to understand by him that, instead of taking his meals with him, he should take them with Colonel la Combe.

One day, when duty had called the Colonel elsewhere, and Edgar was alone, there came a gentle knock at his door, and Father Eusebio entered. He made enquiry after Edgar's welfare, and talked on all kinds of indifferent subjects, but presently came to a pause, and after looking fixedly into Edgar's eyes, cried with much emotion--

"No, Don Edgar, _you_ are not a traitor. It is in human nature that, in that waking dream which const.i.tutes the delirium of fever--when the forces of life are in bitter combat with man's earthly envelope, and the strong tension of the fibres cannot hem in the thoughts and fancies which strive for utterance--it is, I say, in human nature that a man can then no longer help revealing phases of his being which are secret at other times. How often have I, Don Edgar, watched by your pillow during long nights? How often have you, all unknowing, allowed me to read the very depths of your soul? No, Don Edgar, it is impossible that you can be a traitor. But have a care of yourself--have a care of yourself!"

Edgar implored Eusebio to tell him clearly what he was suspected of, and what danger was threatening him.

"I will not conceal from you," said Eusebio, "that your intimacy with Colonel la Combe and his companions has caused suspicion to rest upon you--that fears are entertained that you might, from no evil intention, but out of mere lightheartedness, on some occasion when you may have taken more of our strong Spanish wines than was advisable, perhaps divulge some of the secrets of this house, into which Don Rafaele has initiated you. There is no doubt that you are in a certain amount of danger."

"But," continued Eusebio, after having maintained a thoughtful silence, with downcast eyes, for a time, "there _is_ one way of escaping all risk. You have only to throw yourself into the arms of the Frenchmen.

They will get you out of Valenzia."

"What are you talking about?" Edgar burst out. "Sooner death without reproach, than escape coupled with miserable disgrace."

"Don Edgar," cried the monk with enthusiasm, "you _are_ no traitor!" He strained Edgar to his heart, and left the chamber with his eyes full of tears.

That night Edgar, happening to be alone (the Colonel chancing to be from home), heard steps approaching, and Don Rafaele's voice calling, "Open your door, Don Edgar." On opening it he saw Don Rafaele with a torch in his hand, and Father Eusebio behind him. Don Rafaele begged Edgar to accompany him, he having to attend an important meeting in the vault of the Franciscan monastery.

As they were pa.s.sing along the subterranean pa.s.sage, Don Rafaele being in advance with the lighted torch, Eusebio whispered softly in his ear,

"Oh, G.o.d, Don Edgar! you are going to your death! There is no escape possible for you now."

Edgar had ventured his life in many a fight with brave lightheartedness; but here all the anxiousness, the uncertainty of the manner of his a.s.sa.s.sination, could not but weigh heavily upon him, so that Eusebio had some difficulty in supporting him. And yet, as the way was still long, he managed to acquire a measure of self-control which enabled him not only to command himself, but to resolve upon the line of conduct which he should adopt in these circ.u.mstances. "When the door of the vault opened, Edgar saw the terrible Empecinado, with rage and fury flas.h.i.+ng from his eyes. Behind him were standing several Guerillas and one or two Franciscan friars. Having now quite recovered his calm courage, Edgar walked firmly and fearlessly up to the Guerilla chief, and, addressing him gravely and quietly, said--

"It happens very fortunately that I am brought face to face with you to-day, Don Empecinado. I have been anxious to make a request to Don Rafaele, and now I have the opportunity of laying it before yourself.

As Father Eusebio, my doctor and faithful guardian, will testify, I have now quite recovered. I am well and strong, and find it impossible to bear the tedious idleness of life among enemies whom I detest. I therefore beseech you, Don Empecinado, let me be taken and placed upon those secret paths known to you, that I may join your bands, and be engaged in enterprises for which my soul yearns."

"H'm!" said Empecinado, in a tone approaching mockery. "Do _you_ then hold with the crack-brained populace, who prefer death to doing homage to the Grand Nation? Have not your friends taught you better?"

"Don Empecinado," said Edgar, "you do not understand the German mode of looking at matters. It is not known to you that German courage, which burns on for ever inextinguishably, like a pure naphtha flame, and German faithfulness, firm as the primeval rock, form the most impenetrable coat of mail, from which all the poisoned darts of treachery and wickedness fall back harmlessly. I beg you once more, Don Empecinado, to let me go out into the open country, that I may prove myself deserving of the good opinion which I believe myself to have already earned."

Empecinado looked at Edgar in amazement, whilst a low murmur circulated amongst the a.s.semblage. Don Rafaele moved forward to speak to Empecinado, but he motioned him back, and going to Edgar, took his hand and said with emotion--

"Another fate was in store for you. You had another destiny reserved for you to-day. However, Don Edgar, think of your own country. The enemies who have covered it with shame are here to-day before you.

Remember that your German peoples, too, will raise their eyes to the Phoenix which will soar, with s.h.i.+ning plumage, from the flames which are kindling here, and their despair give place to warm longing, the parent of dauntless courage, of battle to the very death!"

"I thought of all this," said Edgar, "before I left my own country, to shed my blood for your freedom. All my being dissolved itself into l.u.s.t for vengeance, when Don Balda.s.sare di Luna lay dying in my arms."

"If you are serious in this," cried Empecinado, as one suddenly breaking into fury, "you must set forth this very night, this very moment. You must not enter Don Rafaele's house again." Edgar declared that this was precisely what he desired, and was immediately conducted away by a man named Isidor Mirr (who afterwards became a guerilla chief), and Father Eusebio.

As they went the good Eusebio could not sufficiently express his delight at Edgar's escape.

"Heaven!" he said, "seeing your goodness put courage into your heart--a divine miracle, in my belief."

It was much closer to Valenzia than he expected, or than the enemy probably were aware, that Edgar met the first troop of Guerillas, and to it he attached himself.

I pa.s.s over in silence Edgar's warlike adventures, which often might sound as if taken from some book of knightly fables, and I come to the time when he unexpectedly encountered Don Rafaele Marchez among the Guerillas.

"You really had great injustice done to you, Don Edgar," said Don Rafaele. Edgar turned his back upon him.

When morning broke, Don Rafaele got into a state of anxiety which grew every instant till it attained a pitch of the most intense anguish. He ran up and down, sighed, clasped his hands, raised them to heaven, and prayed.

"What is the matter with the old fellow?" Edgar enquired.

"He has managed," said Isidor Mirr, "to get safe out of Valenzia himself, and to save the best of his belongings, and get them loaded up upon mules. He has been expecting them all night, and has every reason to antic.i.p.ate evil."

Edgar marvelled at Don Rafaele's avarice, which seemed to render him oblivious of everything besides. It was midnight; the moon was s.h.i.+ning brightly among the hills; when musketry fire was heard from the ravine beneath, and presently some rather seriously wounded Guerillas came limping up, reporting that the troop which was escorting Don Rafaele's mules had been unexpectedly attacked by some French Cha.s.seurs, that nearly all their comrades had fallen, and the mules been captured by the enemy.

"Great heavens, my child--my poor, unfortunate child," Don Rafaele cried, and sank to the ground.