Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 193 — page 2: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

2 The Man in Red: The Ghost of the Old Guard, A Btory of the Lurning of Moscow. BY CAPT. FRED, WHITTAKER, AUTHOR OF ‘‘DEATH’S HEAD CUIRASSIERS,” ‘* PHANTOM KNIGHTS,” ETC., ETC. | CHAPTER I.’ THE MAN IN RED. -CRADLED in the bosom af the hills, lies a lit- tle spring, from which trickles a stream of water, too feeble to float the smallest boat or the humblest mill. _Amere thread of silver, it winds in and out among the daisies and violets of early spring, when the snows are begianing to melt on Jung- frau and Wetterhorn. _ Yet it gurgles along as musically as Strauss’s famous waltz; and the ebb and flow of the dance never fails to bring to mind the baby river Danube. On goes the t'ny stream, glittering in the sunlight, till it hears another, anotber, and yet another ssn wny 8 to it and burrying down to meet it from the Swabian Alps like children afraid to be left alone. They join together and dash on, laughing, and the baby rivulet has become a rushing, im- petuous stream, that goes careering on, like a colt let loose in the meadows in springtime. - On its banks rise the towers of Ulm; a little further on the roaring Lech comes tearing down from the Tyrol to join it at Donawertle, and the blue Danube has become a river. On it sweeps past Ingolstadt and Ratisbon and hundreds of towns and villages, till the black Iser flows in at Straubing, and the mightiest of all—the rushing Inn—j ins its waters at Passau. Now we can say indeed we have seen a river fit for kings to sail on, and we float over the beautiful, blue Danube, till before us rise the historic walls of Vienna, There is the grand tower of St. Stephen’s; there stand the palaces of the haughty Hapsbirgs; there is the home of Mozart, Beethoven, an many another lord of the world of music, and on the bridges is the glitter of bayonets. But what is yonder flag that floats from the towers of Schonbrunn? It does not show the white field and black eagle of Austria. No, by heavens! it is the tricolor, with its broad folds of red, white and blue. French | arein Vienna! ; Yes, the French are in Vienna, and far be- low the city, on the banks of the Danube and gz the island of Lobau from end to end g lines of tents, banks of earth, dotted with cannon, while the music of a hundred bands fills the evening air. French uniforms are in the streets of Vienna; oe hussars dash to and fro with orders; ng grimly over their guns of the Austrians, and the ass round one grand marquee, rmy knows the great Napoleon lodges. > sun to rest on the side of France, stars come out in the hot, sultry night of July, 1809. _ Far away over the ocean, in another land,the ckets are bursting into stars, and the bonfires bp ar RY celebrate the birthday of a na- tion destined to throw all the glories of old Rome and imperial France into theshade; but around Vienna all is quiet on the night of the h of July, 1809 . The bands have ceased to play, one after an- soldiers, wrapped in their gray capot horses munch their bay by the picket ropes; th sontries pace silently u and Sian like shal we. and over all the stars look down with the same ssion.ess calm with which they have beheld oman, German, Hun, Goth, Vandal, Turk and / Gaul, striving for the mastery of Vienna in the thousands of years that have passed over it, In the midst of the camp all the tents are dark save one, the great marquee around which y the Old Guard sleeps. - This stands like a beacon in the midst of the 2s et a late hour. rattling in the outer darkness, rides off with dispatches, and there is a buzz of conversation, inside and out: The night wears on, and the: Xe says ina low voice: ‘‘Admit no more to-night, sentry. His maj- esty wisbes to sleep.” ‘Very good, my general,” answers the grim old sentry. Then he marches up and down on ach artillerymen on the island of Lobau are | and | Zuns at the distant | — 9s of the Imperial Guard are gathered in a | other; the camp-fires have died into ashes; the. sleeping by the fires; the long lines of hens | army, and one may see figures going and com- very now and then comes a clanking and ' : as an officer low | go less frequently, till at last a tall officer, in general’s uniform, comes out of the tent and The Man in Red. ee his lonely post, while the general goes into the tents, and the lights are extinguished in the huge marquee. At the rear of this marquee, which serves as an antechamber thereto, are two other tents, and in the furthest a lamp still burns, and will burn all night. The segtry paces up and down, and looks at the distant lights of Vienna and the few dull red lanterns which mark the place of the bat- teries by the river shore. He feels the contrast of the silence to the bustle of the day, and mutters: ‘“‘ Peste! I wish it were over, this accursed lying still. We’ve beaten these Austrians so often that it doesn’t seem natural for the Guard to be lying behind works.” Then he hears the great clock of St. Stephen’s Cathedral toll out the hour of twelve, and balts to listen. The deep, solemn tones of the bell that boom so mournfully down the valley of the Danube have their influence even on the grizzled vet- eran of Lodiand Marengo. He stands still and crosses himself involuntarily, muttering, for the first time in years, the prayers he was taught when Louis the Martyr was king of France and the old soldier was a boy. One by one the strokes boom out, and the tremulous air repeats them in a dying cadence, inexpressibly solemn. And just then, at the last strike of the mid- night hour, a cold wind fans the face of the mo- tionless sentry, and something flits past him, noiselessly, toward the marquee, What it is he cannot tell; but the cold sweat bursts out on his forehead as he catches up bis musket, and boarsely challenges: * Qui va la !” Then he rubs his eyes. There is nothing there, and he begins to think he must have been asleep on his post and dreamed it. Presently, within the marquee, he hears the startled exclamation: ** Oui vient?” [Who comes?) The aide-de-camp, who had tbrown himself, dressed, on a rough bed, to watch beside the emperor, springs up with a pistol in bis hand. e sees the figure of a man in the dark marquee, faintly visible by the light that shines through the canvas of the inner tent. The man seems to be tall and thin, and is dressed entirely in red, with a face of ghastly white and a Bo pointed mustache and chin beard of black. So much he can see; also that the man has brilliant black eyes; then he calls out menacingly: “ Who are you?” Click! clack! | The long pistol is cocked, and the officer a third time: ‘* Who are you?” And then, to bis intense amazement, the red figure motions him to fire and advances straight The officer advances to eject the bold in- truder, for he does not like to fire on an un- armed mav, when The Man in Red, silently asa ghost, seems to vanish into thin air against.a red-lined cloak that hangs on the tent-pole, and mn the watchful officer lays his hand on it ) , he mutters: . le. ymrte de Friedland, you Stras says w 2 ve I must have been dreaming. bed his majesty by my : i e returns to his couch, and yet of the vision disturbs him, He Z is sure of it. They come from | tent; and the Count of Friedland, mp to the Emperor of the French, says “What t ne deuce is this? There was no one en I instructed the sent himself, in doubt, to finally says: we Tie t risk i” — r. | he goes softly to the first inner tent and pcre the door, on ce Persian rug, l ies ustan, the luke, -cimeter | is breast within his folded arms, one hand, relaxed in sleep, half-closed over a pistol butt, his dark, bearded face peaceful in repose. The aide-de-camp looks down. ‘‘T thought it must be he,” he mutters. Bus still there are voices in the inner tent, and one of them is the voice of the emperor He eat see on the tent wall the grand out- of that head, so famous throughout mi is classic beauty of outline; and opposi or shadow-head, which reminds him of vendary pictures of the Evil One. 3 is the long pointed nose and chin; the turned mustache; the close cap, with fd if he be ing voice is speaking, while the spiky mustache moves up and down. You think you have made yourself,” says the voice, mockingly. ‘‘Ho! ho! It is like all of you, I tell you it is time for you to turn back. You havécome too far east.’ ‘‘T have been further east before,” answers urg pie after ten at ars like horns, and a high pitched, sneer- ne eee rr ° Sess the calm voice of the emperor; “and never failed to beat my foes. As for you, I have only to raise my voice to have you stripped of your disguise and exposed.” | The listener in the outer tent hears mocking laugh. ‘* Ho! ho! try it. the same You boast that you are the first man in Europe. A continent trembles at your nod. But 1 fear you not. Ho! hol your master, I made you. Ho! ho!” Convinced that some madman has stolen into the tent, the aide-de-camp stirs the sleeping Mameluke with his foot, and in a moment Rous- tanis awake, The otber signs him to silence, and they noiselessly traverse the tent and look in. There sits the emperor by his table, spread with maps, and on the other side stands a tall, preter- naturally thin man, dressed in red, in whom the officer recognizes his vision, The emperor is paler even than his wont, and looks up at the corpse-like face, with its dark, flaming eyes, as if measuring intellect with in- tellect, as he replies slowly: ‘*Thou liest. I made myself the first in Europe, and I will be first in the world, with no help from thee.” The Man in Red smiles. He does not laugh; but there is a singular tone of triumphant mockery in his voice, as he answers: ‘*Be it so. I took thee, a puny boy in the walks of Brienne, and have made of thee, step by step, general, consul, emperor, victor on fifty fields. Thou hast passed Cesar; but lam thy master. Now hear me. I give thee six years more. In the seventh thou shalt be chained to a rock in the midst of the sea, with the vultures of despair to gnaw thy heart.” The emperor smiles scornfully. ** Madman, I laugh at thy prophecies. Who art thou, to tell the future?’ The Man in Red looks down on him ina sin- gular way. Hiseyes seem to be trying to over- awe those of the emperor. ‘*Who I am, thou knowest not,” he says, in his strange, unnatural voiee. “I bave placed thee where thou art, for the sake of a woman, Thy fate and hers are bound together with bands that cannot be broken, without b ws ae Beware, I know what is in thy heart to- night.” he emperor shrugs his shoulders. ‘*T will tell thee at once. I intend to cross the river and beat these Austrians.” ‘‘ And then?’ demands The Man in Red. ‘‘ And then make peace with them, as I have done before.” ‘‘ And then?” asks The Man in Red. ** And then return to France with another victory to inscribe on my standards. And now, Master et, tell me, if thou canst, what will be the issue of this battle?’ ‘‘Thou hast said it,” returned The Man in Red. ‘Thou shalt return to France victorious. But beware. It will be thy last decisive vic- tory. Thy star is in the zenith, From hence- forth it must wane, till it sinks behind the rock on the ocean.” the emperor laughs scornfully. “‘ Since thou knowest so much, tell me when I Iam shall next see thee?” “Thou shalt see me at Fontainebleau, this time next year. After that, no more, till we meet in Moscow.” an re time the emperor looks surprised b n Moscow? I have no thought of goin ere. But be it so. I may take a fancy to quer Russia, ard if I do, be sure I will go to Then the two listeners see a leer of evil im- rt contort the demoniac face of The Man in ed, as he answers: ‘Thou shalt go to Moscow, but beware of the Russian bear. He lives in the snow and makes his lair in the ice-caves. All thy fires shall be quenched before the snow-drifts of the steppes. Farewell!” ‘‘ Not so fast,” returns the emperor, in his old scornful tones. ‘‘ I have Jistened to thee patient- ly.. Now cast aside this mummery and tell me who thou art, and how thou camest here. , ‘Ho! ho!” retorts The Man in Red. *‘ Ho! ho! He asks who I sm!” And he laughs in the same shrill way as be- fore, till the emperor cries out: ‘‘Priedland! Roustan! Here!” shouted the em , “Seize that—thin w ‘The Histenets only waited Sor the werd, and they dash aside the curtain and rush to grasp the intruder, who stands on the opposite side of the table. They think they have bim. In that same Instant the lamp on the table is blown out; they bear a slight noise in the cor- ngp et ae tent; and grasp nothing. 6 Man in Red bas vanished. There isa short search, inside the tent and then out, but no traces are found of the mid- oe Finally the emperor says Com- “Tt is some madman, and they are very cun- ae. ‘ Light the Jamp again, and let us try to sleep. And silence rests over the tent again. In the dawn of morning the aide-de-cam looks into the inner tent, and sees the calm, pale Gomic (S.€O ; JOO