The Adventures of Ferdinand Count Fathom — Complete
resolution of making their escape from the army, after it should have
taken the field in the spring; because, in that case, they would have
frequent opportunities of going abroad on foraging parties, and, during
one of these excursions, might retire in such a manner as to persuade
their companions that they had fallen into the enemy’s hands.
Agreeable to this determination, the camp was no sooner formed in
Alsace than our associates began to make preparations for their march,
and had already taken all the previous measures for their departure,
when an accident happened, which our hero did not fail to convert to
his own advantage. This was no other than the desertion of Renaldo’s
valet, who, in consequence of a gentle chastisement, which he had
richly merited, thought proper to disappear, after having plundered his
master’s portmanteau, which he had forced open for the purpose.
Ferdinand, who was the first person that discovered the theft,
immediately comprehended the whole adventure, and, taking it for
granted that the delinquent would never return, resolved to finish what
the fugitive had imperfectly performed.
Being favoured with the unreserved confidence of the young Count, he
instantly had recourse to his bureau, the locks of which he found means
to burst open, and, examining a private drawer, contrived with great
art to conceal Renaldo’s jewels and cash, made himself master of the
contents without hesitation; then cutting open his cloak-bag, and
strewing the tent with his linen and clothes, began to raise his voice,
and produce such a clamour as alarmed the whole neighbourhood, and
brought a great many officers into the tent.
He on this, as on all other occasions, performed his cue to a miracle,
expressing confusion and concern so naturally in his gestures and
exclamation, that no man could possibly suspect his sincerity; nay, to
such a degree of finesse did his cunning amount, that when his friend
and patron entered, in consequence of an intimation he soon received of
his loss, our adventurer exhibited undoubted signs of distraction and
delirium, and, springing upon Renaldo with all the frantic fury of a
bedlamite, “Villain,” cried he, “restore the effects you have stole
from your master, or you shall be immediately committed to the care of
the prevot.” However mortified M. de Melvil might be at his own
misfortune, the condition of his friend seemed to touch him more
nearly; he undervalued his own loss as a trifle that could be easily
repaired; said everything which he thought would tend to soothe and
compose the agitation of Ferdinand; and finally prevailed upon him to
retire to rest. The calamity was wholly attributed to the deserter; and
Renaldo, far from suspecting the true author, took occasion, from his
behaviour on this emergency, to admire him as a mirror of integrity and
attachment; in such an exquisite manner did he plan all his designs,
that almost every instance of his fraud furnished matter of triumph to
his reputation.
Having thus profitably exercised his genius, this subtle politician
thought it high time to relinquish his military expectations, and
securing all his valuable acquisitions about his own person, rode out
with his understrapper, in the midst of fifty dragoons, who went in
quest of forage. While the troopers were employed in making up their
trusses, the two adventurers advanced towards the skirt of a wood, on
pretence of reconnoitring, and the Tyrolese, who undertook to be our
hero’s guide, directing him to a path which leads towards Strasburg,
they suddenly vanished from the eyes of their companions, who in a few
minutes hearing the report of several pistols, which the confederates
purposely fired, conjectured that they had fallen in with a party of
French, by whom they were made prisoners of war.
The Tyrolese had overrated his own knowledge when he took upon himself
the charge of conducting our hero; for upon their arrival at a certain
place, where two roads crossed each other, he chanced to follow that
which not only frustrated their intention, but even led them directly
to the French camp; so that, in the twilight, they fell in upon one of
the outguards before they were aware of their mistake.
Whatever confusion and perplexity they might undergo, when they heard
themselves questioned by the sentinel on the advanced post, certain it
is, they betrayed no symptoms of fear or disorder; but while Ferdinand
endeavoured to recollect himself, his fellow-traveller, with the
appearance of admirable intrepidity and presence of mind, told the
soldier that he and his companion were two gentlemen of family, who had
quitted the Austrian army, on account of having sustained some
ill-usage, which they had no opportunity of resenting in any other way,
and that they were come to offer their services to the French general,
to whose quarters they desired to be immediately conveyed.
The sentinel, to whom such an instance of desertion was neither rare,
nor indeed uncommon, directed them without scruple to the next post,
where they found a serjeant’s party, from which, at their request, they
were transmitted to the officer of the grand guard, and by him next
morning introduced to Count Coigny, who very politely received them as
volunteers in the army of France. Though this translation was not at
all to our hero’s liking, he was forced to acquiesce in his fate, glad
to find himself, on these terms, in possession of his effects, of which
he would otherwise have been infallibly rifled.
This campaign, however, was the most disagreeable period of his whole
life; because the manner in which he had entered into the service
subjected him to the particular observation and notice of the French
officers; so that he was obliged to be very alert in his duty, and
summon all his fortitude to maintain the character he had assumed. What
rendered his situation still more unpalatable, was the activity of both
armies in the course of this season, during which, over and above
sundry fatiguing marches and countermarches, he was personally engaged
in the affair of Halleh, which was very obstinate; where, being in the
skirts of the detachment, he was actually wounded in the face by the
sword of an hussar; but this was, luckily for him, the last time he
found himself under the necessity of exerting his military prowess, for
a cessation of arms was proclaimed before he was cured of his wound,
and peace concluded about the end of the campaign.
During his sojourn in the French camp, he assumed the character of a
man of family, who being disgusted at some supercilious treatment he
had met with in the German service, and at the same time ambitious of
carrying arms under the banners of France, took the opportunity of
retreating by stealth from his friends, accompanied only by one with
whom he could intrust his intention. In this capacity he had managed
his matters to such advantage, that many French officers of rank were
very well disposed to contribute their interest in his behalf, had his
inclination verged towards promotion in the army; but he thought proper
to conceal his real design, under the specious pretext of longing to
see the metropolis of France, that centre of pleasure and politeness,
in which he proposed to spend some time for the improvement of his
address and understanding. These were motives too laudable to be
opposed by his new patrons, some of whom furnished him with letters of
recommendation to certain noblemen of the first rank at the court of
Versailles, for which place he and his companion set out from the banks
of the Rhine, very well satisfied with the honourable dismission they
had obtained from a life of inconvenience, danger, and alarm.
CHAPTER TWENTY
HE PREPARES A STRATAGEM BUT FINDS HIMSELF COUNTERMINED—PROCEEDS ON HIS
JOURNEY, AND IS OVERTAKEN BY A TERRIBLE TEMPEST.
In the course of this journey, Ferdinand, who was never deficient in
his political capacity, held a secret conclave with his own thoughts,
not only touching the plan of his own future conduct, but also
concerning his associate, of whose fidelity and adherence he began to
entertain such doubts as discouraged him from the prosecution of that
design in which the Tyrolese had been at first included; for he had
lately observed him practise the arts of his occupation among the
French officers, with such rapacity and want of caution, as indicated a
dangerous temerity of temper, as well as a furious rage of acquiring,
which might be some time or other satiated upon his own friends. In
other words, our adventurer was afraid that his accomplice would profit
by his knowledge of the road and countries through which they
travelled, and, after having made free with his most valuable effects,
in consequence of the familiarity subsisting between them, leave him
some morning without the ceremony of a formal adieu.
Aroused by this suspicion, he resolved to anticipate the supposed
intention of the Tyrolese, by taking his own departure in the same
abrupt manner; and this scheme he actually put in execution, upon their
arrival in Bar-le-duc, where it was agreed they should spend a day to
repose and refresh themselves from the fatigue of hard riding.
Ferdinand, therefore, taking the advantage of his companion’s
absence—for the Tyrolese had walked abroad to view the town—found means
to hire a peasant, who undertook to conduct him through a by-road as
far as Chalons, and with his guide he accordingly set out on horseback,
after having discharged the bill, left a blank paper sealed up in form
of a letter, directed to his friend, and secured behind his own saddle
a pair of leathern bags, in which his jewels and cash were usually
contained. So eager was our hero to leave the Tyrolese at a
considerable distance behind, that he rode all night at a round pace
without halting, and next morning found himself at a village distant
thirteen good leagues from any part of the route which he and his
companion had at first resolved to pursue.
Here, thinking himself safely delivered from the cause of all his
apprehension, he determined to lie incognito for a few days, so as that
he might run no risk of an accidental meeting upon the road with the
person whose company he had forsaken; and accordingly took possession
of an apartment, in which he went to rest, desiring his guide to wake
him when dinner should be ready. Having enjoyed a very comfortable
refreshment of sleep, with his bags under his pillow, he was summoned,
according to his direction, and ate a very hearty meal, with great
tranquillity and internal satisfaction. In the afternoon he amused
himself with happy presages and ideal prospects of his future fortune,
and, in the midst of these imaginary banquets, was seized with an
inclination of realising his bliss, and regaling his eyesight with the
fruits of that success which had hitherto attended his endeavours. Thus
inflamed, he opened the repository, and, O reader! what were his
reflections, when, in lieu of Mademoiselle Melvil’s ear-rings and
necklace, the German’s golden chain, divers jewels of considerable
value, the spoils of sundry dupes, and about two hundred ducats in
ready money, he found neither more nor less than a parcel of rusty
nails, disposed in such a manner as to resemble in weight and bulk the
moveables he had lost.
It is not to be supposed our adventurer made this discovery without
emotion. If the eternal salvation of mankind could have been purchased
for the tenth part of his treasure, he would have left the whole
species in a state of reprobation, rather than redeem them at that
price, unless he had seen in the bargain some evident advantage to his
own concerns. One may, therefore, easily conceive with what milkiness
of resignation he bore the loss of the whole, and saw himself reduced