Vanity Fair
against you at Jena, and six to one at Montmirail. Those among you who
were prisoners in England can tell their comrades what frightful
torments they suffered on board the English hulks. Madmen! a moment
of prosperity has blinded them, and if they enter into France it will
be to find a grave there!" But the partisans of the French prophesied
a more speedy extermination of the Emperor's enemies than this; and it
was agreed on all hands that Prussians and British would never return
except as prisoners in the rear of the conquering army.
These opinions in the course of the day were brought to operate upon
Mr. Sedley. He was told that the Duke of Wellington had gone to try
and rally his army, the advance of which had been utterly crushed the
night before.
"Crushed, psha!" said Jos, whose heart was pretty stout at
breakfast-time. "The Duke has gone to beat the Emperor as he has
beaten all his generals before."
"His papers are burned, his effects are removed, and his quarters are
being got ready for the Duke of Dalmatia," Jos's informant replied. "I
had it from his own maitre d'hotel. Milor Duc de Richemont's people
are packing up everything. His Grace has fled already, and the Duchess
is only waiting to see the plate packed to join the King of France at
Ostend."
"The King of France is at Ghent, fellow," replied Jos, affecting
incredulity.
"He fled last night to Bruges, and embarks today from Ostend. The Duc
de Berri is taken prisoner. Those who wish to be safe had better go
soon, for the dykes will be opened to-morrow, and who can fly when the
whole country is under water?"
"Nonsense, sir, we are three to one, sir, against any force Boney can
bring into the field," Mr. Sedley objected; "the Austrians and the
Russians are on their march. He must, he shall be crushed," Jos said,
slapping his hand on the table.
"The Prussians were three to one at Jena, and he took their army and
kingdom in a week. They were six to one at Montmirail, and he
scattered them like sheep. The Austrian army is coming, but with the
Empress and the King of Rome at its head; and the Russians, bah! the
Russians will withdraw. No quarter is to be given to the English, on
account of their cruelty to our braves on board the infamous pontoons.
Look here, here it is in black and white. Here's the proclamation of
his Majesty the Emperor and King," said the now declared partisan of
Napoleon, and taking the document from his pocket, Isidor sternly
thrust it into his master's face, and already looked upon the frogged
coat and valuables as his own spoil.
Jos was, if not seriously alarmed as yet, at least considerably
disturbed in mind. "Give me my coat and cap, sir," said he, "and follow
me. I will go myself and learn the truth of these reports." Isidor was
furious as Jos put on the braided frock. "Milor had better not wear
that military coat," said he; "the Frenchmen have sworn not to give
quarter to a single British soldier."
"Silence, sirrah!" said Jos, with a resolute countenance still, and
thrust his arm into the sleeve with indomitable resolution, in the
performance of which heroic act he was found by Mrs. Rawdon Crawley,
who at this juncture came up to visit Amelia, and entered without
ringing at the antechamber door.
Rebecca was dressed very neatly and smartly, as usual: her quiet sleep
after Rawdon's departure had refreshed her, and her pink smiling cheeks
were quite pleasant to look at, in a town and on a day when everybody
else's countenance wore the appearance of the deepest anxiety and
gloom. She laughed at the attitude in which Jos was discovered, and
the struggles and convulsions with which the stout gentleman thrust
himself into the braided coat.
"Are you preparing to join the army, Mr. Joseph?" she said. "Is there
to be nobody left in Brussels to protect us poor women?" Jos succeeded
in plunging into the coat, and came forward blushing and stuttering out
excuses to his fair visitor. "How was she after the events of the
morning--after the fatigues of the ball the night before?" Monsieur
Isidor disappeared into his master's adjacent bedroom, bearing off the
flowered dressing-gown.
"How good of you to ask," said she, pressing one of his hands in both
her own. "How cool and collected you look when everybody else is
frightened! How is our dear little Emmy? It must have been an awful,
awful parting."
"Tremendous," Jos said.
"You men can bear anything," replied the lady. "Parting or danger are
nothing to you. Own now that you were going to join the army and leave
us to our fate. I know you were--something tells me you were. I was so
frightened, when the thought came into my head (for I do sometimes
think of you when I am alone, Mr. Joseph), that I ran off immediately
to beg and entreat you not to fly from us."
This speech might be interpreted, "My dear sir, should an accident
befall the army, and a retreat be necessary, you have a very
comfortable carriage, in which I propose to take a seat." I don't know
whether Jos understood the words in this sense. But he was profoundly
mortified by the lady's inattention to him during their stay at
Brussels. He had never been presented to any of Rawdon Crawley's great
acquaintances: he had scarcely been invited to Rebecca's parties; for
he was too timid to play much, and his presence bored George and Rawdon
equally, who neither of them, perhaps, liked to have a witness of the
amusements in which the pair chose to indulge. "Ah!" thought Jos, "now
she wants me she comes to me. When there is nobody else in the way she
can think about old Joseph Sedley!" But besides these doubts he felt
flattered at the idea Rebecca expressed of his courage.
He blushed a good deal, and put on an air of importance. "I should like
to see the action," he said. "Every man of any spirit would, you know.
I've seen a little service in India, but nothing on this grand scale."
"You men would sacrifice anything for a pleasure," Rebecca answered.
"Captain Crawley left me this morning as gay as if he were going to a
hunting party. What does he care? What do any of you care for the
agonies and tortures of a poor forsaken woman? (I wonder whether he
could really have been going to the troops, this great lazy gourmand?)
Oh! dear Mr. Sedley, I have come to you for comfort--for consolation.
I have been on my knees all the morning. I tremble at the frightful
danger into which our husbands, our friends, our brave troops and
allies, are rushing. And I come here for shelter, and find another of
my friends--the last remaining to me--bent upon plunging into the
dreadful scene!"
"My dear madam," Jos replied, now beginning to be quite soothed, "don't
be alarmed. I only said I should like to go--what Briton would not?
But my duty keeps me here: I can't leave that poor creature in the
next room." And he pointed with his finger to the door of the chamber
in which Amelia was.
"Good noble brother!" Rebecca said, putting her handkerchief to her
eyes, and smelling the eau-de-cologne with which it was scented. "I
have done you injustice: you have got a heart. I thought you had not."
"O, upon my honour!" Jos said, making a motion as if he would lay his
hand upon the spot in question. "You do me injustice, indeed you
do--my dear Mrs. Crawley."
"I do, now your heart is true to your sister. But I remember two years
ago--when it was false to me!" Rebecca said, fixing her eyes upon him
for an instant, and then turning away into the window.
Jos blushed violently. That organ which he was accused by Rebecca of
not possessing began to thump tumultuously. He recalled the days when
he had fled from her, and the passion which had once inflamed him--the
days when he had driven her in his curricle: when she had knit the
green purse for him: when he had sate enraptured gazing at her white
arms and bright eyes.
"I know you think me ungrateful," Rebecca continued, coming out of the
window, and once more looking at him and addressing him in a low
tremulous voice. "Your coldness, your averted looks, your manner when
we have met of late--when I came in just now, all proved it to me. But
were there no reasons why I should avoid you? Let your own heart answer
that question. Do you think my husband was too much inclined to
welcome you? The only unkind words I have ever had from him (I will do
Captain Crawley that justice) have been about you--and most cruel,
cruel words they were."
"Good gracious! what have I done?" asked Jos in a flurry of pleasure
and perplexity; "what have I done--to--to--?"
"Is jealousy nothing?" said Rebecca. "He makes me miserable about you.
And whatever it might have been once--my heart is all his. I am
innocent now. Am I not, Mr. Sedley?"
All Jos's blood tingled with delight, as he surveyed this victim to his
attractions. A few adroit words, one or two knowing tender glances of
the eyes, and his heart was inflamed again and his doubts and
suspicions forgotten. From Solomon downwards, have not wiser men than
he been cajoled and befooled by women? "If the worst comes to the
worst," Becky thought, "my retreat is secure; and I have a right-hand
seat in the barouche."
There is no knowing into what declarations of love and ardour the
tumultuous passions of Mr. Joseph might have led him, if Isidor the
valet had not made his reappearance at this minute, and begun to busy
himself about the domestic affairs. Jos, who was just going to gasp
out an avowal, choked almost with the emotion that he was obliged to
restrain. Rebecca too bethought her that it was time she should go in
and comfort her dearest Amelia. "Au revoir," she said, kissing her
hand to Mr. Joseph, and tapped gently at the door of his sister's
apartment. As she entered and closed the door on herself, he sank down
in a chair, and gazed and sighed and puffed portentously. "That coat
is very tight for Milor," Isidor said, still having his eye on the
frogs; but his master heard him not: his thoughts were elsewhere: now
glowing, maddening, upon the contemplation of the enchanting Rebecca:
anon shrinking guiltily before the vision of the jealous Rawdon
Crawley, with his curling, fierce mustachios, and his terrible duelling
pistols loaded and cocked.
Rebecca's appearance struck Amelia with terror, and made her shrink
back. It recalled her to the world and the remembrance of yesterday.
In the overpowering fears about to-morrow she had forgotten
Rebecca--jealousy--everything except that her husband was gone and was
in danger. Until this dauntless worldling came in and broke the spell,
and lifted the latch, we too have forborne to enter into that sad
chamber. How long had that poor girl been on her knees! what hours of
speechless prayer and bitter prostration had she passed there! The
war-chroniclers who write brilliant stories of fight and triumph
scarcely tell us of these. These are too mean parts of the pageant:
and you don't hear widows' cries or mothers' sobs in the midst of the
shouts and jubilation in the great Chorus of Victory. And yet when was
the time that such have not cried out: heart-broken, humble
protestants, unheard in the uproar of the triumph!
After the first movement of terror in Amelia's mind--when Rebecca's
green eyes lighted upon her, and rustling in her fresh silks and
brilliant ornaments, the latter tripped up with extended arms to
embrace her--a feeling of anger succeeded, and from being deadly pale
before, her face flushed up red, and she returned Rebecca's look after
a moment with a steadiness which surprised and somewhat abashed her
rival.
"Dearest Amelia, you are very unwell," the visitor said, putting forth
her hand to take Amelia's. "What is it? I could not rest until I knew
how you were."