The Romance of Modern Sieges. Gilliat Edward
’tis very possible,” said they; “but your money, your watch, and your linen are never the worse for that; no, nor your wine either!” and the ruthless savages swallowed the wine and the bread which had been portioned out as his sustenance and comfort for the day.
Feeling that such might be his case, Boothby put his money and watch in a little earthen vessel and sent it to be buried in the yard; then calling for his soup and a large glass of claret, he tossed it off defiantly, saying to himself, “You don’t get this, my boys!”
Next morning they heard that the French infantry were coming, and the town was to be given up to pillage, as so many of the citizens had deserted it.
The women came to him. “Shall we lock the street door, Don Carlos?” they said.
“By all means,” said he. “Make it as fast as you can, and don’t go near the windows.”
Soon they heard the bands playing, and the women rushed to the windows, as if to see a raree-show, forgetting all his injunctions.
Soon after thump! thump! thump! sounded at the door.
“Virgin of my soul!” cried old Pollonia, tottering to the window. “There they are!” But, peeping out cautiously, she added, “No, ’tis but a neighbour. Open, Pepa.”
“You had better not suffer your door to be opened at all,” said the Captain.
But Pepa pulled the string, and in came the neighbour, shrieking:
“Jesus! Maria! Dios Santissimo! The demons are breaking open every door and plundering every house; all the goods-chests – everything – dragged out into the street.”
“Maria di mi alma! Oh, señora!”
The crashing of doors, breaking of windows, loud thumpings and clatterings, were now distinctly heard in all directions. All outside seemed to boil in turmoil.
Ere long, thump! thump! at their own door.
But it was only another neighbour. Pepa pulled the string, and in she came. Her head was piled up with mattresses, blankets, quilts, and pillows. Under one arm were gowns, caps, bonnets, and ribbons. Her other hand held a child’s chair. Add to all this that her figure was of a stunted and ludicrous character, and she came in puffing and crying under that cumbrous weight of furniture. They could not resist laughing.
“For the love of God, señora,” she whined, “let me put these things in your house.”
She was shown up into the garret. Others followed after her.
But soon there was a louder knocking, with a volley of French oaths. The house shook under the blows.
“Pedro, tell them in French that this is the quarter of an English Captain.”
Pedro cautiously peeped out of the window.
“Dios! there is but one,” said Pedro, “and he carries no arms. Hallo, sair! la maison for Inglis Captin! Go to hell!”
This strange language, and his abrupt, jabbering way of talking, forced a laugh out of his master.
“Ouvrez la porte, bête!” shouted the Frenchman. “I want some water.”
“Holy Virgin!” cried Pollonia. “We had better open the door.”
“No, no, no!” said Boothby. “Tell him, Pedro, that if he does not take himself off I shall report him to his General.”
Pedro had not got half through this message, when suddenly he ducked his head, and a great stone came in and struck the opposite wall.
“Il demonio!” groaned the women, as they, too, ducked their heads.
Then the fellow, who was drunk, just reeled off in search of some easier adventure.
Pedro had hardly finished boasting of his victory when the door was again assailed.
“Oh,” said Pollonia, “it’s only two officers’ servants;” and she shut the window.
“Well, what did they want?” asked the Captain.
“They wanted lodgings for their masters, but I told them we had no room.”
“And have you room, Donna Pollonia?”
“Yes; but I didn’t choose to say so.”
“Run, Pedro, run and tell those servants that there is plenty of room. Don’t you see, señora, that this is the best chance of preserving your house from pillage?”
They returned – one a Prussian lad who spoke French very ill. The Captain’s hope that these fellow-lodgers would prove gentlemen lent him a feeling of security.
Little Pedro was watching the motions of the two servants like a lynx.
“Signore,” said he, “those two diavoli are prying about into every hole and corner.”
On this Aaron was sent to dig up the watch and money and bring the wine upstairs.
Soon after in came Pedro, strutting with a most consequential air.
“The French Captain, signore,” said he.
There followed him a fine, military-looking figure, armed cap-à-pie, and covered with martial dust. He advanced to the bedside with a quick step.
“I have had the misfortune, sir, to lose a limb,” said Boothby, “and I claim your protection.”
“My protection!” he replied, putting out his hand. “Command my devoted services! The name of an Englishman in distress is sufficient to call forth our tenderest attention.”
The Captain was a good deal affected by the kindness of his manner. Kindness can never be thoroughly felt unless it be greatly wanted.
He begged he would visit him sometimes, and he promised to bring a friend.
Señora Pollonia was charmed with M. de la Platière, who, with his young friend Captain Simon, often came in for a chat.
Alas! they had to go away after a few days’ stay, but de la Platière wrote his name in chalk on the door, in the hope that it might discourage any plunderers.
One day Boothby was suddenly aroused by the appearance in his room of an officer whom he had seen before, but did not much like.
“Eh, Capitaine, comment ça va-t-il? Ça va mieux! Ha! bon!”
Then he explained that the blade of his sword was broken. “As prisoner of war,” he said, “you will have no use for a sword. Give me yours, and, if you will, keep mine. Where is yours?”
“It stands,” said Boothby, “in yonder corner. Take it by all means.”
“Je vous laisserai la mienne,” he said, and hurried off.
Boothby wished his sword in the Frenchman’s gizzard, he was so rough and rude.
One afternoon Pedro rushed in, excited, and said: “The General himself is below, sir!”
“Bring him up, Pedro.”
Quickly he ushered in an officer of about the age of five-and-thirty. He was splendidly dressed, of an elegant person, his face beaming with good nature and intelligence.
He came up to the bed, and without waiting for the form of salutation, seated himself in a chair close to the pillow, and laying his hand on Boothby’s arm, he said, in a mild and agreeable voice:
“Ne vous dérangez, mon ami! Solely I am here to see if I can possibly lighten a little the weight of your misfortune. Tell me, can I be useful to you? Have you everything you want?”
For all these kind inquiries the Captain expressed his gratitude, and added, “I have really nothing to ask for, unless you could send me to England.”
“Ah! if you were able to move, Captain, I could exchange you now; but by the time you will have gained strength to travel you will be at the disposal of the Major-General of the army.”
That visit gave much comfort and hope.
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