Chapter 19: The Evasion.
Upon the ride from Versailles to Paris Rupert told the marquis what he had done and heard.
"It is bad news, Rupert. I will ride back this afternoon, when I have lodged you in Paris, and see Adele. If she objects--as I know she will object to this marriage--I shall respectfully protest. That any good will come of the protest I have no thought, but my protest may strengthen Adele's refusal, by showing that she has her father's approval.
"Adele will of course be treated coldly at first, then she will have pressure put upon her, then be ordered to choose between a convent and marriage. She will choose a convent. Now in some convents she could live quietly and happily, in others she would be persecuted. If she is sent to a convent chosen for her, it will be worse than a prison. Her life will be made a burden to her until she consents to obey the king's command. Therefore, my object will be to secure her retreat to a convent where she will be well treated and happy. But we will talk of this again."
It was not until the following afternoon that the marquis returned from Versailles.
"I am off to the front again," he said. "I had an audience with his Majesty this morning, and respectfully informed him of my daughter's incurable repugnance to the Duc de Carolan, and of her desire to remain single until at least she reached the age of twenty. His Majesty was pleased to say that girls' whims were matters to which it behoved not to pay any attention. He said, however, that for the present he would allow it to remain in abeyance, and that he begged me to see Adele, and to urge upon her the necessity for making up her mind to accept his Majesty's choice. He also said that the news from the army was bad, that good officers were urgently required there, and that it would be therefore advisable for me to repair at once to the front and again take the command of my regiment. He said that he wished me to take you with me as far as Lille, and that you should there take up your residence."
"Of course I will accompany you, sir," Rupert said; "but I will withdraw my parole as soon as you hand me over, and take my chance of escaping."
"Yes, I should do that, Rupert. indeed, as you gave your parole to me, you can give it back to me now, if you choose. I will run the risk of some little anger on the part of the king, if you quit me on your way to Lille and make the best of your way to the frontier."
"No, I thank you," Rupert said. "There can't be much difficulty in escaping from a town when one wants to do so; and it would do you an evil turn indeed to incense the king against you at the present time."
The next morning, just as they were setting out, a lackey placed a note in Rupert's hands.
"I hear you are sent off to Lille. I have a cousin there, and have written to recommend you to his care. I will keep my promise, and let you know, if needs be, of what is happening to the young person we spoke of--Diana."
Rupert wrote a few words of earnest thanks, and imitating the example set him, gave it unaddressed and unsigned to the lackey, with a handsome present to himself.
On the way to Lille, the marquis told Rupert his plans for the withdrawal of Adele from court, and her concealment, should Louis insist on the marriage being pressed on.
Arriving at Lille, Rupert was handed over to the governor, and having formally withdrawn his parole to make no effort to escape, he was assigned quarters in barracks, whence he was allowed to go into the town during daylight; being obliged, however, to attend at roll call at midday. The fortifications of the town were so strong and well guarded that it was supposed that the chance of escape was small.
The following day the Marquis de Pignerolles took an affectionate leave of Rupert, and went on to join the army; and an hour or two later Captain Louis d'Etamps, the cousin of whom Diana had written, called upon him, and placed himself at his service. His cousin had told him of the supposed crime for which Rupert had been sent away from court, and felt much sympathy with what she considered his hard treatment. Not only Louis d'Etamps, but the French officers of the garrison, showed great kindness and attention to the English prisoner, for the Duke of Marlborough had treated the French officers who fell into his hands at Ramilies with such kindness and courtesy, that the French were glad to have an opportunity of reciprocating the treatment when the chance fell in their way. Late in the autumn, the Marquis de Pignerolles was brought back to Lille seriously wounded in one of the last skirmishes of the campaign. Rupert spent all the time he was allowed to be out of barracks at his friend's quarters. The wound was not considered dangerous, but it would keep the marquis a prisoner to his room for weeks.
A few days after the marquis was brought in, Louis d'Etamps came into Rupert's room early in the morning.
"I have a note for you from my fair cousin," he said. "It must be something particular, for she has sent a special messenger with a letter to me, and on opening it I find only a line asking me to give you the enclosed instantly."
Rupert opened the latter from Diana d'Etamps; it was as follows:
"Adele has been ordered to marry the Duc de Carolan on the 15th. Unless she consents, she is on the 14th to be sent to the nunnery of Saint Marie, the strictest in France, where they will somehow or other wring consent from her before many weeks are over. They have done so in scores of cases like hers. I promised to tell you, and I have done so. But I don't see that anything can be done. I hear Monsieur le Marquis is badly wounded, but even were he here, he could do nothing. The king is resolute. The Duc de Carolan has just given 200,000 crowns towards the expenses of the war."
"May I see?" Louis d'Etamps said, for the young men were now fast friends.
Rupert handed him the note.
"What can you do, my poor boy?" he said.
"I will go and see the marquis, and let you know afterwards," Rupert said. "I shall do something, you may be sure."
"If you do, you will want to escape from Lille. I will see about the arrangements for that. There is no time to be lost. It is the 10th today."
Rupert's conversation with the Marquis de Pignerolles was long and interesting. The marquis chafed at being confined to a sick bed and permitting Rupert to run the risk, which was immense, of the attempt alone. However, as he could not move, and as Rupert was determined to do something, the marquis entered into all the plans he had drawn up, and intended to follow when such an emergency occurred. He gave him a letter for Adele, and then they parted.
At his room Rupert found Louis.
"Quick," he said, "there is no time to lose. At ten o'clock a convoy of wounded leave for Paris. The doctor in charge is a friend of mine and a capital fellow. I have just seen him. All is arranged. Come along to my quarters, they are on the line that the convoy goes to the gate. Jump in bed, then I will bandage up your head with plaisters so that not more than space to see and breathe out of will be left. When the convoy arrives at the door, he will have an empty litter ready, will bring up four men who will lift you in, supposing you to be a wounded French officer, carry you down, and off you go with the convoy, not a soul save the doctor, you, and I, the wiser. He has got a pass to leave the city with forty-eight sick and ten soldiers, and he has only to tell one of those marked to go that he is not well enough to be moved, and will go with the next convoy. The messenger who brought the letter has started again, and has taken with him a led horse of mine. He will be at the hostelry of Henri the 4th, at the place where you will stop tonight. He will not know who you are, I have told him that a friend of mine will call for the horse, which I had promised to send him.
"When you halt for the night, the doctor will order you to be carried into his own room. You will find two or three suits of clothes in the litter, a lackey's suit of our livery which may be useful, a country gentleman's, and one of mine. When you are alone with the doctor and all is safe, get up, put on the country gentleman's suit, say goodbye to him and go straight to the stables at the Henri the 4th. You are the Sire de Nadar. I have written a note here, telling you the horse will be there and you are to fetch it--here it is. The messenger will know my seal."
"I am indeed obliged to you," Rupert said, "you have thought of everything; but how will the doctor explain my not being forthcoming in the morning?"
"Oh, he will arrange that easily enough. The soldiers will all sleep soundly enough after this march; besides, they will not, in all probability, be near his quarters, so he will only have to say that he found you were too ill to continue the journey, and had therefore had you carried to a confrere of his. You must be under no fear, Rupert, of any evil consequences to anyone, for no one will ever connect you with the convoy. You will be missed at roll call, but that will go for nothing. When you are absent again at six o'clock, you will be reported as missing. Then it will be supposed that you are hid in the city, and a sharp watch will be set at the gates; but after a few days it will be supposed that you have either got over the walls, or that you have gone out disguised as a peasant. A prisoner of war more or less makes but little difference, and there will never be any fuss about it."
Soon after dusk on the evening of the 13th of October, Adele de Pignerolles was sitting alone in a large room in the house of Madame de Soissons. A wood fire was blazing, and even in that doubtful light it might have been seen that the girl's eyes were swollen with crying. She was not crying now, but was looking into the fire with a set, determined look in her face.
"I don't care," she said; "they may kill me at Saint Marie, but I will never say yes. Oh, if papa were but here."
At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a bright-looking waiting maid entered.
"A note, mademoiselle, from Mademoiselle d'Etamps--and mademoiselle," and she put her finger mysteriously to her lips, "it is a new lackey has brought it. I told him to come again in ten minutes for an answer; for I thought it better he should not come in to be looked at by Francois and Jules."
"Why not, Margot?" Adele asked in great surprise.
"Because, mademoiselle, he seemed to me--I may be wrong, you know--but he seemed to me very, very like--"
"Like whom, Margot? How mysterious you are."
"Like the English officer," Margot said, with an arch nod.
Adele leapt to her feet.
"You must be mad, Margot. There, light a candle."
But without waiting, Adele knelt down close to the fire, and broke open the letter.
A flush, even ruddier than that given by the fire, mounted over her face.
"It is him, Margot. He has come from my father. Now we are to do what I told you about. We are to go off tonight under his charge, to your mother's, my dear old nurse, and there I am to live with you, and be as your cousin, till papa can get me out of the country."
"And is the young officer to live there till the marquis comes?" Margot asked, slyly. "He might pass as another cousin, mademoiselle."
"How foolish you are, Margot, and this is no time for folly. But listen. My father says, 'Rupert will be in the street round the corner, with three horses, at eleven o'clock. You and Margot are to be dressed in the boys' clothes that I bade you prepare. Take in bundles two of Margot's dresses. Do not be afraid to trust yourself with Rupert Holliday. Regard him as a brother; he has all my confidence and trust.'"
"We must remember that," Margot said.
"Remember what, Margot?"
"Only that you are to regard him as a brother, mademoiselle."
"Margot, Margot, I am surprised at you, joking like a child when we have a terrible business before us. But indeed I feel so happy at the thought of escape from that terrible convent, that I could joke like a child also."
"You had better write a line for him, mademoiselle. It was from chance that I happened to be in the hall when he rang; and we don't want him to come in to be stared at by Francois while you write an answer."
Quickly Adele sat down at a table, and wrote:
"At the hour and place named, expect us--Yours, trustfully, Adele."
As the clock struck eleven two slight figures stole noiselessly out of the garden gate of Madame de Soissons' house at Versailles. The town was hushed in sleep, and not a sound was moving in the street. They carried bundles with them, and walked with rapid steps to a small lane which led off the street by the side of the garden wall. It was quite dark, and they could see nothing, but a voice said:
"Adele!"
"Rupert!" one of the figures answered, in shy, trembling tones.
"Please stay where you are," Rupert said. "It is lighter in the street."
The horses were led forth noiselessly, for Rupert had fastened cloths round their feet, to prevent the iron shoes sounding on the round pebbles which paved the streets.
Not a word was said. There was a warm clasp of the hand, and Rupert lifted Adele into the saddle. Margot climbed into another, and the three rode rapidly down the streets. Not a word was spoken until they were in the open country.
"Thank God, you are safe thus far, Adele. The last time I helped you on to a horse was the day you went out to see my hawk kill a heron."
"Oh, Rupert," the girl said, "it seems like a dream. But please do not let us talk yet about ourselves. Tell me about Papa. How is he?"
Rupert told her; and gradually as they talked the excitement and agitation passed off.
"And where did you get the horses, Rupert?"
"The one I am riding is Louis d'Etamps'," he said, "the others are your father's. I brought orders from him to his steward in Paris, that two of his best horses were to be sent this morning to a stable in Versailles, and left there, and that a person with an order from him would call for them."
"I cannot see you in the least. Are you dressed as Monsieur d'Etamps' lackey still?"
"No, I am now a quiet country gentleman, riding down from Paris with my two sons, who have been up with me to see their aunt who lives in the Rue du Tempe."
"Talk French, please, Rupert. Margot will understand then; and she is so brave and good, and shares my danger, so she ought to be as one of us."
Adele's spirits rose as they got farther from Versailles, and they talked and laughed cheerfully, but in low tones.
Three miles from Versailles, as they rode past a crossroad, two mounted men dashed out suddenly.
"Stand, in the king's name! Who are you?"
"We are travellers," Rupert said, quietly, "and go where we will. Who are you?"
"We are guards of the court, and we must know who you are before we suffer you to pass. None ride at night near Versailles but with a pass."
"I am an exception then," Rupert said, "and I advise you not to interfere with us;" and he urged his horse a few feet in advance of his companions.
One of the horsemen seized his bridle, while another drew a pistol.
Rupert's sword leaped from its scabbard and cut down the man who held the rein. The other fired, but Rupert threw himself forward on the horse's neck and the bullet whizzed over his head. He rode at the garde, and with a heavy blow with the pommel of the sword struck him senseless from his horse.
"Now," he said to Adele, "we can ride on again. You are not frightened, I hope?"
"Not so frightened as I was the first time you drew sword in my behalf," the girl said; "but it is very dreadful. Are they killed, Rupert?"
"Not a bit of it," Rupert said; "one has got a gash on the head which will cost him a crown in plaister, the other may have lost some teeth. It would have been wise to have killed them, for their tale in the morning is likely to be regarded as throwing some light upon your disappearance; but I could not kill men who were only doing their duty. At any rate we have twelve hours' start, even if they take up the clue and pursue us on this line tomorrow.
"It is about ten miles this side of Poitiers that your mother lives, is it not, Margot?"
"Yes, Monsieur Rupert. How surprised she will be at my arrival with my cousins."
"Oh, we are both your cousins, are we, Margot?"
"Mademoiselle Adele is to pass as my cousin, monsieur, and I suppose you must be either another cousin, or else her brother."
"Margot," Adele said, "you chatter too much."
"Do I, mademoiselle? It is better than riding through the darkness without speaking. I was very glad when the cloths were off the horses' feet, for we seemed like a party of ghosts."
"How long shall we be getting there?" Adele asked, presently.
"Six days, if we do it all with the same horses," Rupert said; "and I am afraid to hire horses and leave them on the way, as it would look as if we were pressed for time. No, for today we are safe--but for today only. Messengers will be sent in all directions with orders for our arrest. They will take fresh relays of horses; and really our only hope is in disguise. I propose that we go the first stage without halting as far as our horses will carry us. I think we can get to Orleans. There we will put them up, and take rooms. Then Margot must slip out in her own dress and buy two peasant girls' attire, and I will pick up at some dealer in old clothes a suit which will enable me to pass as a wounded soldier making his way home. Then we will strike off from the main road and follow the lanes and get on some other road. They will inquire all along the road and will hear of a gentleman and two youths, and will for a while have that in their minds. No one will particularly notice us, and we shall get into Tours safely enough.
"We must never enter a house or town together, for they will be on the lookout for three people, and neither a soldier with his head bound up, nor two peasant girls, will attract attention. At Tours I will get a farmer's dress, and will buy a horse and cart, and a load of hay, and will pick you up outside the town. You can get on the hay, and can cover yourselves over if you see any horsemen in pursuit. After that it will be all easy work."
"Why could you not get the cart at Orleans, Rupert?" Adele asked.
"I might," he said; "but I think that the extra change would be best, as they would then have no clue whatever to follow. They will trace us to Orleans, and you may be sure that there will be a hot hue and cry, and it may be that the fact of a horse and cart having been sold would come out. They will not know whether we have made east, west, or south from there, so there will be a far less active search at Tours than there will at Orleans."
So the journey was carried out, and without any serious adventure; although with a great many slight alarms, and some narrow escapes of detection, which cannot be here detailed. The party arrived at the spot where the lane leading to the little farm occupied by Margot's mother left the main road. Here they parted, the girls taking their bundles, and starting to trudge the last few miles on foot.
Margot discreetly went on a little ahead, to give her mistress the opportunity of speaking to Rupert alone, but she need not have done so, for all that Rupert said was:
"I have been in the light of your brother this time, Adele, as your father gave you into my charge. If I ever come again, dear, it will be different."
"You are very good, Rupert. Goodbye;" and with a wave of the hand she ran after Margot; while Rupert, mounting the cart, drove on into Poitiers.
Here he sold his load of hay to a stable keeper, drove a mile or two out of the town, entered a wood, and then took the horse out of the cart, and leaving the latter in a spot where, according to all appearances, it was not likely to be seen for months, drove the horse still further into the wood, and, placing a pistol to its head, shot it dead. Then he renewed his disguise as a soldier, but this time dispensed with the greater part of his bandages, and set out on his return, in high spirits at having so successfully performed his journey.
He pursued his journey as far back as Blois without the slightest interruption, but here his tramp came to a sudden termination. Secure in the excellence of his French, Rupert had attempted no disguise as to his face beyond such as was given by a strip of plaister, running from the upper lip to the temple. He strode gaily along, sometimes walking alone, sometimes joining some other wayfarer, telling every one that he was from Bordeaux, where he had been to see his parents, and get cured of a sabre cut.
As he passed through the town of Blois, Rupert suddenly came upon a group of horsemen. Saluting as he passed--for in those days in France no one of inferior rank passed one of the upper classes without uncovering--he went steadily on.
"That is a proper looking fellow," one of the party said, looking after him.
"By our Lady," exclaimed another, "I believe I have seen that head and shoulders before. Yes, I feel sure.
"Gentlemen, we have made a prize. Unless I am greatly mistaken, this is the villainous Englishman who it is believed aided that malapert young lady to escape."
In another moment Rupert was surrounded. His hat was knocked off; and the Duc de Carolan, for it was he, exclaimed in delight:
"I thought that I could not be mistaken. It is himself."
Rupert attempted no resistance, for alone and on foot it would have been hopeless.
The governor of the royal castle of Blois was one of the party, and Rupert found himself in another ten minutes standing, with guards on each side of him, before a table in the governor's room, with the governor and the Duc de Carolan sitting as judges before him.
"I have nothing to say," Rupert said, quietly. "I escaped from Lille because I had been, as I deemed it, unworthily treated in Paris. I had withdrawn my parole, and was therefore free to escape if I could. I did escape, but finding the frontier swarmed with French troops, I thought it safer to make for central France, where a wayfarer would not be looked upon as suspiciously as in the north. Here I am. I decline to answer any further questions.
"As to the lady of whom you question me, I rejoice to find, by the drift of your questions, that she has withdrawn herself from the persecution which she suffered, and has escaped being forced into marriage with a man she once described in my hearing as an ape in the costume of the day."
"And that is all you will say, prisoner?" the governor asked, while the Duc de Carolan gave an exclamation of fury.
"That is all, sir; and I would urge, that as an English officer I am entitled to fair and honourable treatment; for although I might have been shot in the act of trying to escape from prison, it is the rule that an escaping prisoner caught afterwards, as I am, should have fair treatment, although his imprisonment should be stricter and more secure than before.
"As to the other matter, there cannot be, I am assured, even a tittle of evidence to connect me with the event you mention. As far as I hear from you, I escaped on the 10th from Lille, which date is indeed accurate. Three days later Mademoiselle de Pignerolles left Versailles. The connection between the two events does not appear in any way clear to me."
"It may or it may not be," the governor said. "However, my duty is clear, to keep you here in safe ward until I receive his Majesty's orders."
Four days later the royal order came. Rupert was to be taken to the dreaded fortress prison of Loches, a place from which not one in a hundred of those who entered in ever came from alive.
Chapter 20: Loches.
"A British officer; broke out from Lille. Ah!" the Governor of Loches said to himself, as he glanced over the royal order. "Something else beyond that, I fancy. Prisoners of war who try to break prison are not sent to Loches. I suppose he has been in somebody's way very seriously. A fine young fellow, too--a really splendid fellow. A pity really; however, it is not my business.
"Number four, in the south tower," he said, and Rupert was led away.
Number four was a cell on the third story of the south tower. More than that Rupert did not know. There was no looking out from the loopholes that admitted light, for they were boarded up on the outside. There was a fireplace, a table, a chair, and a bedstead. Twice a day a gaoler entered with provisions; he made no reply to Rupert's questions, but shook his head when spoken to.
For the first week Rupert bore his imprisonment with cheerfulness, but the absolute silence, the absence of anything to break the dreary monotony, the probability that he might remain a prisoner all his life, was crushing even to the most active and energetic temperament.
At the end of a month the gaoler made a motion for him to follow him. Ascending the stairs to a great height, they reached the platform on the top of the tower.
Rupert was delighted with the sight of the sky, and of the wide-spreading fields--even though the latter was covered with snow. For a half-an-hour he paced rapidly round and round the limited walk. Presently the gaoler touched him, and pointing below, said:
"Look!"
Rupert looked over the battlement, and saw a little party issue from a small postern gate far below him, cross the broad fosse, and pause in an open space formed by an outlying work beyond. They bore with them a box.
"A funeral?" Rupert asked.
The man nodded.
"They all go out at last," he said, "but unless they tell what they are wanted to tell, they go no other way."
Five minutes later Rupert was again locked up in his cell, when he was, in the afternoon of the same day, visited by the governor, who asked if he would say where he had taken Mademoiselle Pignerolles.
"You may as well answer," he said. "You will never go out alive unless you do."
Rupert shook his head.
"I do not admit that I know aught concerning the lady you name; but did I so, I should prefer death to betraying her."
"Ay," the governor said, "you might do that; but death is very preferable to life at Loches."
In a day or two Rupert found himself again desponding.
"This will not do," he said earnestly. "I must arouse myself. Let me think, what have I heard that prisoners do? In the first place they try to escape; and some have escaped from places as difficult as Loches. Well, that is one thing to be thought very seriously about. In the next place, I have heard of their making pets of spiders and all sorts of things. Well, I may come to that, but at present I don't like spiders well enough to make pets of them; besides I don't see any spiders to make pets of. Then some prisoners have carved walls, but I have no taste for carving.
"I might keep my muscles in order and my health good by exercise with the chair and table; get to hold them out at arm's length, lift the table with one hand, and so on. Yes, all sorts of exercise might be continued in that way, and the more I take exercise the better I shall sleep at night and enjoy my meals. Yes, with nothing else to do I might become almost a Samson here.
"There, now my whole time is marked out--escape from prison, and exercise. I'll try the last first, and then think over the other."
For a long time Rupert worked away with his furniture until he had quite exhausted himself; then feeling happier and better than he had done since he was shut up, he began to think of plans of escape. The easiest way would of course be to knock down and gag the gaoler, and to escape in the clothes; but this plan he put aside at once, as it was morally certain that he should be no nearer to his escape after reaching the courtyard of the prison, than he was in the cell. There remained then the chimney, the loophole, and the solid wall.
The chimney was the first to disappear from the calculation. Looking up it, Rupert saw that it was crossed by a dozen iron bars, the height too was very great, and even when at the top the height was immense to descend to the fosse.
The loophole was next examined. It was far too narrow to squeeze through, and was crossed by three sets of bars. The chance of widening the narrow loophole and removing the bars without detection was extreme; besides, Rupert had a strong idea that the loophole looked into the courtyard.
Finally he came to the conclusion, that if an escape was to be made it must be by raising a flag of the floor, tunnelling between his room and that underneath it, and working out through the solid wall. It would be a tremendous work, for the loophole showed him that the wall must be ten feet thick; still, as he said to himself, it will be at least something to do and to think about, and even if it takes five years and comes to nothing, it will have been useful.
Thus resolved, Rupert went to work, and laboured steadily. His exercise with the chair and table succeeded admirably, and after six months he was able to perform feats of strength with them that surprised himself. With his scheme for escape he was less fortunate. Either his tools were faulty, or the stones he had to work upon were too compact and well built, but beyond getting up the flag, making a hole below it in the hard cement which filled in the space between the floor, large enough to bury a good sized cat, Rupert achieved nothing.
He had gone into prison in November, it was now August, and he was fast coming to the idea that Loches was not to be broken out of by the way in which he was attempting to do it.
One circumstance gave him intense delight. Adele's hiding place had not been discovered. This he was sure of by the urgency with which the governor strove to extract from him the secret of her whereabouts. Their demands were at the last meeting mingled with threats, and Rupert felt that the governor had received stringent orders to wring the truth from him. So serious did these menaces become that Rupert ceased to labour at the floor of his cell, being assured that ere long some change or other would take place. He was not mistaken. One day the governor entered, attended, as usual, by the gaoler and another official.
"Sir," he said to Rupert, "we can no longer be trifled with. I have orders to obtain from you the name of the place to which you escorted the young lady you went off with. If you refuse to answer me, a different system to that which has hitherto been pursued will be adopted. You will be removed from this comfortable room and placed in the dungeons. Once there, you must either speak or die, for few men are robust enough to exist there for many weeks.
"I am sorry, sir, but I have my duty to do. Will you speak, or will you change your room?"
"I will change my room," Rupert said, quietly. "I may die; but if by any chance I should ever see the light again, be assured that all Europe shall know how officers taken in war are treated by the King of France."
The governor shrugged his shoulders, made a sign to the gaoler, who opened the door, and as the governor left four other warders entered the room. Rupert smiled, he knew that this display of force was occasioned by the fact that his gaoler, entering his room suddenly, had several times caught him balancing the weighty table on his arm or performing other feats which had astounded the Frenchman. The work at the cell wall had always been done at night.
"I am ready to accompany you," Rupert said, and without another word followed his conductor downstairs.
Arrived at a level with the yard, another door was unlocked, and the party descended down some stairs, where the cold dampness of the air struck a chill to Rupert's heart. Down some forty feet, and then a door was unlocked, and Rupert saw his new abode. It was of about the same size as the last, but was altogether without furniture. In one corner, as he saw by the light of a lantern which the gaoler carried, was a stone bench on which was a bundle of straw. The walls streamed with moisture, and in some places the water stood in shallow pools on the floor; the dungeon was some twelve feet high; eight feet from the ground was a narrow loophole, eighteen inches in height and about three inches wide. The gaoler placed a pitcher of water and a piece of bread on the bench, and then without a word the party left.
Rupert sat quiet on the bench for an hour or two before his eyes became sufficiently accustomed to the darkness to see anything, for but the feeblest ray of light made its way through so small a loophole in a wall of such immense thickness.
"The governor was right," he muttered to himself. "A month or two of this place would kill a dog."
It was not until the next day that the gaoler made his appearance. He was not the same who had hitherto attended him, but a powerful-looking ruffian who was evidently under no orders as to silence such as those which had governed the conduct of the other.
"Well," he began, "and how does your worship like your new palace?"
"It is hardly cheerful," Rupert said; "but I do not know that palaces are ever particularly cheerful."
"You are a fine fellow," the gaoler said, looking at Rupert by the light of his lantern. "I noted you yesterday as you came down, and I thought it a pity then that you would not say what they wanted you to. I don't know what it is, and don't want to; but when a prisoner comes down here, it is always because they want to get something out of him, or they want to finish with him for good and all. You see you are below the level of the moat here. The water comes at ordinary times to within six inches of that slit up there. And in wet weather it happens sometimes that the stream which feeds the moat swells, and if it has been forgotten to open the sluice gates of the moat, it will rise ten feet before morning. I once knew a prisoner drowned in the cell above this."
"Well," Rupert said, calmly. "After all one may as well be drowned as die by inches. I don't owe you any ill will, but I should be almost glad if I did, for then I should dash your brains out against the wall, and fight till they had to bring soldiers down to kill me."
The man gave a surly growl.
"I have my knife," he said.
"Just so," Rupert answered; "and it may be, although I do not think it likely, that you might kill me before I knocked your brains out; but that would be just what I should like. I repeat, it is only because I have no ill will towards you that I don't at once begin a struggle which would end in my death one way or another."
The gaoler said no more; but it was clear that Rupert's words had in no slight degree impressed him, for he was on all his future visits as civil as it was within his nature to be.
"Whenever you wish to see the governor, he will come to you." he said to Rupert one day.
"If the governor does not come till I send for him," Rupert answered, "he will never come."
Even in this dungeon, where escape seemed hopeless, Rupert determined to do his best to keep life and strength together. Nothing but the death of the king seemed likely to bring relief, and that event might be many years distant. When it took place, his old friend would, he was sure, endeavour in every way to find out where he was confined, and to obtain his release. At any rate he determined to live as long as he could; and he kept up his spirits by singing scraps of old songs, and his strength by such gymnastic exercises as he could carry out without the aid of any movable article. At first he struck out his arms as if fighting, so many hundred of times; then he took to walking on his hands; and at last he loosened one of the stones which formed the top of the bed, and invented all sorts of exercises with it.
"What is the day and month?" he said one day to his gaoler.
"It is the 15th of October."
"It is very dark," Rupert said, "darker than usual."
"It is raining," the jailer said; "raining tremendously."
Late that night Rupert was awoke by the splashing of water. He leaped to his feet. The cell was already a foot deep in water.
"Ha!" he exclaimed, "it is one thing or the other now."
Rupert had been hoping for a flood; it might bring death, but he thought that it was possible that it might bring deliverance.
The top of the loophole was some two and a half feet from the vaulted roof; the top of the door was about on the same level, or some six inches lower. The roof arched some three feet above the point whence it sprang.
Rupert had thought it all over, and concluded that it was possible, nay almost certain, that even should the water outside rise ten feet above the level of his roof, sufficient air would be pent up there to prevent the water from rising inside, and to supply him with sufficient to breathe for many hours. He was more afraid of the effects of cold than of being drowned. He felt that in a flood in October the water was likely to be fairly warm, and he congratulated himself that it was now, instead of in December, that he should have to pass through the ordeal.
Before commencing the struggle, he kneeled for some time in prayer on his bed, and then, with a firm heart, rose to his feet and awaited the rising of the water. This was rapid indeed. It was already two feet over his bed, and minute by minute it rose higher.
When it reached his chin, which it did in less than a quarter of an hour from the time when he had first awoke, he swam across to the loophole, which was now but a few inches above the water, and through which a stream of water still poured. Impossible as it was for any human being to get through the narrow slit, an iron bar had been placed across it. Of this Rupert took hold, and remained quiescent as the water mounted higher and higher; presently it rose above the top of the loophole, and Rupert now watched anxiously how fast it ran. Floating on his back, and keeping a finger at the water level against the wall, he could feel that the water still rose. It seemed to him that the rise was slower and slower, and at last his finger remained against a point in the stones for some minutes without moving. The rise of the water inside the dungeon had ceased.
That it continued outside he guessed by a slight but distinct feeling of pressure in the air, showing that the column of water outside was compressing it. He had no fear of any bad consequences from this source, as even a height of twelve feet of water outside would not give any unbearable pressure. He was more afraid that he himself would exhaust the air, but he believed that there would be sufficient; and as he knew that the less he exerted himself the less air he required, he floated quietly on his back, with his feet resting on the bar across the loophole, now two feet under water.
He scarcely felt the water cold. The rain had come from a warm quarter; and the temperature of the water was actually higher than that of the cold and humid dungeon.
Hour after hour passed. The night appeared interminable. From time to time Rupert dived so as to look through the loophole, and at last was rewarded by seeing a faint dull light. Day was beginning; and Rupert had no doubt that with early morning the sluices would be opened, and the moat entirely cleared of water.
He had, when talking with his gaoler one day, asked him how they got rid of the water in the dungeon after a flood, and the man said that there were pipes from the floor of each dungeon into the moat. At ordinary times these pipes were closed by wooden plugs, as the water outside was far above the floor; but that after a flood the water was entirely let out of the moat, and the plugs removed from the pipes, which thus emptied the dungeons.
From the way in which the fellow described the various arrangements, Rupert had little doubt that the sluice gates were at times purposely left closed, in order to clear off troublesome prisoners who might otherwise have remained a care and expense to the state for years to come.
Long as the night had seemed, it seemed even longer before Rupert felt that the water was sinking. He knew that after the upper sluice had opened the fosse might take some time to fall to the level of the water inside the dungeon, and that until it did the water inside would remain stationary.
He passed the hours by changing his position as much as possible; sometimes he swam round and round, at other times he trod water, then he would float quietly, then cling to the bar of the loophole.
The descent of the water came upon him at last as a surprise. He was swimming round and round, and had not for some time touched the wall, when suddenly a ray of light flashed in his face. He gave a cry of joy. The water had fallen below the top of the loophole, and swimming up to it, he could see across the fosse, and watch the sunlight sparkling on the water. It was two months since he had seen the light, and the feeling of joy overpowered him more than the danger he had faced.
Rapidly the water fell, until it was level with the bottom of the loophole. Then hours passed away; for the fosse would have to be emptied before the drain leading from the dungeon could be opened. However, Rupert hardly felt the time long. With his hands on the bar and in the loophole, he remained gazing out at the sunlight.
The water in the fosse sank and sank, until he could no longer see it; but he could see the sun glistening on the wet grass of the bank, and he was satisfied. At last he was conscious of a strain on his arm, and withdrawing his gaze from without, he saw that the water had fallen six inches.
It now sank rapidly; and in an hour he could stand with his head above it. Then he was able to sit down on his bed; but when the water sank to a depth of two feet, he again lay on his back and floated. He knew that a thick deposit of mud would be left, and that it was essential for his plan that he should drift to the exit hole of the water, and there be found, with the mud and slime undisturbed by footsteps or movement. Another ten minutes, and he lay on his back on the ground in a corner of the dungeon to which the water had floated him, having taken care towards the end to sink his head so that his hair floated partly over it, and as the water drained off remained so. He guessed it to be about midday, and he expected to be left undisturbed until night.
After a time he slept, and when he awoke it was dark, and soon after he heard steps coming down the stairs. Now was the moment of trial. Presently the door opened and four of the gaolers came in. They bore between them a stretcher.
"This is the fifth," one said, and he recognized the voice of his own attendant. "It is a pity, he was a fine fellow. Well, there's one more, and then the job's done."
He bent over Rupert, who ceased breathing.
"He's the only one with his eyes closed," he said. "I expect there's someone would break her heart if she knew he was lying here. Well, lift him up, mates."
The two months' imprisonment in the dungeon had done one good service for Rupert. The absence of light had blanched his face, and even had he been dead he could hardly have looked more white than he did. The long hours in the water had made his hands deadly cold, and the hair matted on his face added to the deathlike aspect.
"Put the stretcher on the ground, and roll him over on to it," one of the men said. "I don't mind a dead man, but these are so clammy and slimy that they are horrible to touch. There, stand between him and the wall, put a foot under him, roll him over. There, nothing could be better! Now then, off we go with him. The weight's more than twice as much as the others."
Rupert lay with his face down on the stretcher, and felt himself carried upstairs, then along several long passages, then through a door, and felt the fresh evening air. Now by the sound he knew that he was being carried over the bridge across the moat to the burying ground. Then the stretcher was laid down.
"Now then, roll him over into the hole," one said, "and let us go back for the last. Peste! I am sick of this job, and shall need a bottle of eau de vie to put me straight again."
One side of the stretcher was lifted, and Rupert was rolled over. The fall was not deep, some three or four feet only, and he fell on a soft mass, whose nature he could well guess at. A minute later he heard the retreating footsteps of his gaolers, and leaping from the grave, stood a free man by its side.
He knew that he was not only free, but safe from any active pursuit, for he felt sure that the gaolers, when they returned with their last load, would throw it in and fill up the grave, and that no suspicion that it contained one short of the number would arise.
This in itself was an immense advantage to him, for on the escape of a prisoner from Loches--an event which had happened but once or twice in its records--a gun was fired and the whole country turned out in pursuit of the prisoner.
Rupert paused for two minutes before commencing his flight, and kneeling down, thanked God for his escape. Then he climbed the low ramparts, dropped beyond them, and struck across country. The exercise soon sent the blood dancing through his hands again, and by the morning he was thirty-five miles from Loches.
He had stopped once, a mile or two after starting, when he came to a stream. Into this he had waded, and had washed the muck stains from his clothes, hair, and face.
With the morning dawn his clothes were dry, and he presented to the eye an aspect similar to that which he wore when captured at Blois nearly a year before, of a dilapidated and broken-down soldier, for he had retained in prison the clothes he wore when captured; but they had become infinitely more dingy from the wear and tear of prison, and the soaking had destroyed all vestige of colour.
Presently he came to a mill by a stream.
"Hallo!" the miller said cheerily, from his door. "You seem to have been in the wars, friend."
"I have in my way," Rupert said. "I was wounded in Flanders. I have been home to Bordeaux, and got cured again. I started for the army again, and some tramps who slept in the same room with me robbed me of my last shilling. To complete my disaster, last night, not having money to pay for a bed, I tramped on, fell into a stream, and was nearly drowned."
"Come in," said the miller. "Wife, here is a poor fellow out of luck. Give him a bowl of hot milk, and some bread."
Chapter 21: Back in Harness.
"You must have had a bad time of it." the miller said, as he watched Rupert eating his breakfast. "I don't know that I ever saw anyone so white as you are, and yet you look strong, too."
"I am strong," Rupert said, "but I had an attack, and all my colour went. It will come back again soon, but I am only just out. You don't want a man, do you? I am strong and willing. I don't want to beg my way to the army, and I am ashamed of my clothes. There will be no fighting till the spring. I don't want high pay, just my food and enough to get me a suit of rough clothes, and to keep me in bread and cheese as I go back."
"From what part of France do you come?" the miller asked. "You don't speak French as people do hereabouts."
"I come from Brittany," Rupert said; "but I learnt to speak the Paris dialect there, and have almost forgotten my own, I have been so long away."
"Well, I will speak to my wife," the miller said. "Our last hand went away three months since, and all the able-bodied men have been sent to the army. So I can do with you if my wife likes you."
The miller's wife again came and inspected the wanderer, and declared that if he were not so white he would be well enough, but that such a colour did not seem natural.
Rupert answered her that it would soon go, and offered that if, at the end of a week, he did not begin to show signs of colour coming, he would give up the job.
The bargain was sealed. The miller supplied him with a pair of canvas trousers and a blouse. Rupert cut off his long hair, and set to work as the miller's man.
In a week the miller's wife, as well as the miller himself, was delighted with him. His great strength, his willingness and cheeriness kept, as they said, the place alive, and the pallor of his face had so far worn off by the end of the week that the miller's wife was satisfied that he would, as he said, soon look like a human being, and not like a walking corpse.
The winter passed off quietly, and Rupert stood higher and higher in the liking of the worthy couple with whom he lived; the climax being reached when, in midwinter, a party of marauders--for at that time the wars of France and the distress of the people had filled the country with bands of men who set the laws at defiance--five in number, came to the mill and demanded money.
The miller, who was not of a warlike disposition, would have given up all the earnings which he had stored away, but Rupert took down an old sword which hung over the fireplace; and sallying out, ran through the chief of the party, desperately wounded two others, and by sheer strength tossed the others into the mill stream, standing over them when they scrambled out, and forcing them to dig a grave and bury their dead captain and to carry off their wounded comrades.
Thus when the spring came, and Rupert said that he must be going, the regrets of the miller and his wife were deep, and by offer of higher pay they tried to get him to stay. Rupert however was, of course, unable to accede to their request, and was glad when they received a letter from a son in the army, saying that he had been laid up with fever, and had got his discharge, and was just starting to settle with them at the mill.
Saying goodbye to his kind employers, Rupert started with a stout suit of clothes, fifty francs in his pocket, and a document signed by the Maire of the parish to the effect that Antoine Duprat, miller's man, had been working through the winter at Evres, and was now on his way to join his regiment with the army of Flanders.
Determined to run no more risks if he could avoid it, he took a line which would avoid Paris and all other towns at which he had ever shown himself. Sometimes he tramped alone, more often with other soldiers who had been during the winter on leave to recover from the effects of wounds or of fevers. From their talk Rupert learned with satisfaction that the campaign which he had missed had been very uneventful, and that no great battles had taken place. It was expected that the struggle that would begin in a few weeks would be a desperate one, both sides having made great efforts to place a predominating force in the field.
As he had no idea of putting on the French uniform even for a day, Rupert resolved as he approached the army frontier to abandon his story that he was a soldier going to take his place in the ranks.
When he reached Amiens he found the streets encumbered with baggage waggons taking up provisions and stores to the army. The drivers had all been pressed into the service. Going into a cabaret, he heard some young fellow lamenting bitterly that he had been dragged away from home when he was in three weeks to have been married. Waiting until he left, Rupert followed him, and told him that he had heard what he had said and was ready to go as his substitute, if he liked. For a minute or two the poor fellow could hardly believe his good fortune; but when he found that he was in earnest he was delighted, and hurried off to the contractor in charge of the train--Rupert stopping with him by the way to buy a blouse, in which he looked more fitted for the post.
The contractor, seeing that Rupert was a far more powerful and useful-looking man than the driver whose place he offered to take, made no difficulty whatever; and in five minutes Rupert, with a metal plate with his number hung round his neck, was walking by the side of a heavily-loaded team, while their late driver, with his papers of discharge in his pocket, had started for home almost wild with delight.
For a month Rupert worked backwards and forwards, between the posts and the depots. As yet the allies had not taken the field, and he knew that he should have no chance of crossing a wide belt of country patrolled in every direction by the French cavalry. At the end of that time the infantry moved out from their quarters and took the field, and the allied army advanced towards them. The French army, under Vendome, numbered 100,000 men, while Marlborough, owing to the intrigues of his enemies at home, and the dissensions of the allies, was able to bring only 70,000 into the field.
The French had correspondents in most of the towns in Flanders, where the rapacity of the Dutch had exasperated the people against their new masters, and made them long for the return of the French.
A plot was on foot to deliver Antwerp to the French, and Vendome moved forward to take advantage of it; but Marlborough took post at Halle, and Vendome halted his army at Soignies, three leagues distant. Considerable portions of each force moved much closer to each other, and lay watching each other across a valley but a mile wide.
Rupert happened to be with the waggons taking ammunition up to the artillery in an advanced position, and determined, if possible, to seize the opportunity of rejoining his countrymen. A lane running between two high hedges led from the foot of the hill where he was standing, directly across the valley, and Rupert slipping away unnoticed, made the best of his way down the lane. When nearly half across the valley, the hedges ceased, and Rupert issued out into open fields.
Hitherto, knowing that he had not been noticed, he had husbanded his breath, and had only walked quickly, but as he came into the open he started at a run. He was already nearly half way between the armies, and reckoned that before any of the French cavalry could overtake him he would be within reach of succour by his friends.
A loud shout from behind him showed that he was seen, and looking round he saw that a French general officer, accompanied by another officer and a dragoon, were out in front of their lines reconnoitring the British position. They, seeing the fugitive, set spurs to their horses to cut him off. Rupert ran at the top of his speed, and could hear a roar of encouragement from the troops in front. He was assured that there was no cavalry at this part of the lines, and that he must be overtaken long before he could get within the very short distance that then constituted musket range.
Finding that escape was out of the question, he slackened his speed, so as to leave himself breath for the conflict. He was armed only with a heavy stick. The younger officer, better mounted, and anxious to distinguish himself on so conspicuous an occasion, was the first to arrive.
Rupert faced round. His cap had fallen off, and grasping the small end of the stick, he poised himself for the attack.
The French officer drew rein with a sudden cry,
"You!" he exclaimed, "you! What, still alive?"
"Yet no thanks to you, Monsieur le Duc," Rupert said, bitterly. "Even Loches could not hold me."
His companions were now close at hand, and with a cry of fury the duke rode at Rupert. The latter gave the horse's nose a sharp blow as the duke's sweeping blow descended. The animal reared suddenly, disconcerting the aim, and before its feet touched the ground the heavy knob of Rupert's stick, driven with the whole strength of his arm, struck the duke on the forehead.
At the same instant as the duke fell, a lifeless mass, over the crupper, Rupert leaped to the other side of the horse, placing the animal between him and the other assailants as they swept down upon him. Before they could check their horses he vaulted into the saddle, and with an adroit wheel avoided the rush of the dragoon.
The shouts of the armies, spectators of the singular combat, were now loud, and the two Frenchmen attacked Rupert furiously, one on each side. With no weapon but a stick, Rupert felt such a conflict to be hopeless, and with a spring as sudden as that with which he had mounted he leapt to the ground, as the general on one side and the dragoon on the other cut at him at the same moment.
The spring took him close to the horse of the latter, and before the amazed soldier could again strike, Rupert had vaulted on to the horse, behind him. Then using his immense strength--a strength brought to perfection by his exercise at Loches, and his work in lifting sacks as a miller's man--he seized with both hands the French soldier by the belt, lifted him from the seat, and threw him backwards over his head, the man flying through the air some yards before he fell on the ground with a heavy crash. Driving his heels into the horse, he rode him straight at the French general, as the latter--who had dashed forward as Rupert unseated the trooper--came at him. Rupert received a severe cut on the left shoulder, but the impetus of the heavier horse and rider rolled the French officer and his horse on to the ground. Rupert shifted his seat into the saddle, leapt the fallen horse, and stooping down seized the officer by his waist belt, lifted him from the ground as if he had been a child, threw him across the horse in front of him, and galloped forward towards the allied lines, amid a perfect roar of cheering, just as a British cavalry regiment rode out from between the infantry to check a body of French dragoons who were galloping up at full speed from their side.
With a thundering cheer the British regiment reined up as Rupert rode up to them, the French dragoons having halted when they saw that the struggle was over.
"Why, as I live," shouted Colonel Forbes, "it's the little cornet!"
"The little cornet! The little cornet!" shouted the soldiers, and waved their swords and cheered again and again, in wild enthusiasm; as Colonel Forbes, Lauriston, Dillon, and the other officers, pressed forward to greet their long-lost comrade.
Before, however, a word of explanation could be uttered, an officer rode up.
"The Duke of Marlborough wishes to see you," he said, in French.
"Will you take charge of this little officer, colonel?" Rupert said, placing the French general, who was half suffocated by pressure, rage, and humiliation, on his feet again.
"Now, sir," he said to the officer, "I am with you."
The latter led the way to the spot where the duke was sitting on horseback surrounded by his staff, on rising ground a hundred yards behind the infantry regiment.
"My Lord Duke," Rupert said, as he rode up, "I beg to report myself for duty."
"Rupert Holliday!" exclaimed the duke, astonished. "My dear boy, where do you come from, and where have you been? I thought I was looking at the deeds of some modern Paladin, but now it is all accounted for.
"I wrote myself to Marshal Villeroi to ask tidings of you, and to know why you were not among the officers exchanged; and I was told that you had escaped from Lille, and had never been heard of since."
"He never heard of me, sir, but his Majesty of France could have given you further news. But the story is too long for telling you now."
"You must be anxious about your friends, Rupert. I heard from Colonel Holliday just before I left England, begging me to cause further inquiries to be made for you. He mentioned that your lady mother was in good health, but greatly grieving at your disappearance. Neither of them believed you to be dead, and were confident you would reappear.
"And now, who is the French officer you brought in?"
"I don't know, sir," Rupert said, laughing. "There was no time for any formal introduction, and I made his acquaintance without asking his name."
An officer was at once sent off to Colonel Forbes to inquire the name of the prisoner.
"There is one of your assailants making off!" the duke said; and Rupert saw that the trooper had regained his feet and was limping slowly away.
"He fell light," Rupert said; "he was no weight to speak of."
"The other officer is killed, I think," the duke said, looking with a telescope.
"I fancy so," Rupert said, drily. "I hit him rather hard. He was the Duc de Carolan, and as he had given much annoyance to a friend of mine, not to mention a serious act of disservice to myself, I must own that if I had to kill a Frenchman in order to escape, I could not have picked out one with whom I had so long an account to settle."
The officer now rode back, and reported that the prisoner was General Mouffler.
"A good cavalry officer," the duke said. "It is a useful capture.
"And now, Rupert, you will want to be with your friends. If we encamp here tonight, come in to me after it is dark and tell me what you have been doing. If not, come to me the first evening we halt."
Rupert now rode back to his regiment, where he was again received with the greatest delight. The men had now dismounted, and Rupert, after a few cordial words with his brother officers, went off to find Hugh.
He found the faithful fellow leaning against a tree, fairly crying with emotion and delight, and Rupert himself could not but shed tears of pleasure at his reunion with his attached friend. After a talk with Hugh, Rupert again returned to the officers, who were just sitting down to a dinner on the grass.
After the meal was over Rupert was called upon to relate his adventures. Some parts of his narrative were clear enough, but others were singularly confused and indistinct. The first parts were all satisfactory. Rupert's capture was accounted for. He said that in the person of the commanding officer he met an old friend of Colonel Holliday, who took him to Paris, and presented him at Versailles.
Then the narrative became indistinct. He fell into disgrace. His friend was sent back to the army, and he was sent to Lille.
"But why was this, Rupert," Captain Dillon--for he was now a captain--asked. "Did you call his Majesty out? Or did you kiss Madame de Maintenon? Or run away with a maid of honour?"
A dozen laughing suggestions were made, and then Rupert said gravely:
"There was an unfounded imputation that I was interfering with the plans which his Majesty had formed for the marriage of a lady and gentleman of the court."
Rupert spoke so gravely that his brother officers saw that any joking here would be ill timed; but sly winks were exchanged as Rupert, changing the subject, went on to recount his captivity at Lille.
The story of his escape was listened to eagerly, and then Rupert made a long pause, and coloured lightly.
"Several things of no importance then happened," he said, "and as I was going through the streets of Blois--"
"The streets of where?" Colonel Forbes asked, in astonishment. "You escape from Lille, just on the frontier, what on earth were you doing down at Blois, a hundred miles south of Paris?"
Rupert paused again.
"I really cannot explain it, colonel. I shall make a point of telling the duke, and if he considers that I acted wrongly, I must bear his displeasure; but the matter is of no real importance, and does not greatly concern my adventures. Forgive me, if I do not feel justified in telling it. All the rest is plain sailing."
Again the narrative went on, and the surprise at hearing that Rupert had been confined at Loches, well known as a prison for dangerous political offenders, was only exceeded by that occasioned by the incidents of his escape therefrom. Rupert carried on his story to the point of the escape from the French, which they had just witnessed.
There was a chorus of congratulations at his having gone safely through such great dangers; and Dillon remarked:
"It appears to me that you have been wasting your time and your gifts most amazingly. Here have you been absent just two years, and with the exception of a paltry marauder you do not seem to have slain a single Frenchman, till you broke that officer's skull today.
"I think, my friends, that the least we can do is to pass a formal vote of censure upon our comrade for such a grievous waste of his natural advantages. The only thing in his favour is, that he seems to have been giving up his whole attention to growing, and he has got so prodigiously broad and big that now he has again joined us he will be able to make up for the otherwise sinful loss of time."
A chorus of laughter greeted Dillon's proposal, and the merry group then broke up, and each went off to his duty.
Rupert's first effort was to obtain such clothes as would enable him to appear in his place in the ranks without exciting laughter. Hugh told him that all his clothes and effects were in store at Liege, but indeed it was questionable whether any would be of use to him. He was not taller indeed than he was two years before, but he was broader, by some inches, than before. From the quartermaster he obtained a pair of jack boots which had belonged to a trooper who had been killed in a skirmish two days before, and from the armourer he got a sword, cuirass, and pistols. As to riding breeches there was no trouble, for several of the officers had garments which would fit him, but for a regimental coat he could obtain nothing which was in any way large enough. Hugh was therefore dispatched to Halle to purchase a riding coat of the best fashion and largest size that he could find, and a hat as much as possible in conformity with those generally worn.
An hour or two later Lord Fairholm and Sir John Loveday rode over. The news of the singular fight on the ground between the armies, and of the reappearance of the famous "little cornet of the 5th dragoons" having spread apace through the army.
Joyous and hearty were the greetings, and after a while, the party being joined by Dillon, Rupert gave his three friends a full account of his adventures, omitting some of the particulars which he had not deemed it expedient to speak of in public.
"I understand now," Lord Fairholm said, "the change in your face which struck me."
"Is my face changed?" Rupert said. "It does not seem to me that I have changed in face a bit since I joined, six years ago."
"It is not in features, but in expression. You look good tempered now, Rupert, even merry when you smile, but no man could make a mistake with you now. There is, when you are not speaking, a sort of intent look upon your face, intent and determined--the expression which seems to tell of great danger expected and faced. No man could have gone through that two months in the dungeon of Loches and come out unchanged. All the other dangers you have gone through--and you always seem to be getting into danger of some kind--were comparatively sharp and sudden, and a sudden peril, however great, may not leave a permanent mark; but the two months in that horrible den, from which no other man but yourself would deem escape possible, could not but change you.
"When you left us, although you were twenty, you were in most things still a boy; there is nothing boyish about you now. It is the same material, but it has gone through the fire. You were good iron, very tough and strong, but you could be bent. Now, Rupert, you have been tried in the furnace and have come out steel."
"You are very good to say so," Rupert said, smiling, "but I don't feel all that change which you speak of. I hope that I am just as much up to a bit of fun as ever I was. At present I strike you perhaps as being more quiet; but you see I have hardly spoken to a soul for eighteen months, and have got out of the way rather. All that I do feel is, that I have gained greatly in strength, as that unfortunate French trooper found to his cost today.
"But there, the trumpets are sounding; it's too late for a battle today, so I suppose we have got a march before us."