Beadle's New York Dime Library No. 206 — page 2: what you’re looking at

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

q Britis 2 2. SS One Eye, the Cannoneer; | Marshal Ney’s Last Legacy. A STORY OF THE EXILE OF ST, HELENA, BY CAPT. FREDK WHITTAKER, AUTHOR OF “DEATH'S HEAD CUIRASSIERS,” ‘ MAN IN RED,” ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. Ix THE greys” Caer In: rarden of the Luxembourg Palace, in the your tS, stood a little squad of soldiers, leaning on their muskets, waiting for orders. Before them stretched a green lawn, shaven close, and around the lawa a dense throng of pie, gazing curiously at the soldiers, and vaiting for something. An air of silent expec- ation was visible on every face. The people in the crowd conversed in whispers, and one might see, every now and then, a handkerchief raised to a -woman’s eyes, as if the owner were weep- ing. One thing might also be noticed in the areagement of crowd and soldiers. In front of the squad of armed men was a clear lane that stretched up to a high wall, and this lance grew wider as it stretched further from the soldiers, whiie behind them the people pressed so chose that.a line of sentries had been established to keep them back. The officer in charge of the squad was a young man, hardly more than a boy. Handsome and well made, with tbe stamp of education on every feature, the dark down on his upper lip could hardly be ealled, save by courtesy, & mus- tache, and the youthfulness of his face was em- phasized by the fact that the soldiers of bis command were all gray-headed men, with griz- zled bristles on their lips, and the peculiar grim, set look of the veteran of many cam- ee ere they stood, in the uniforms that had made itself dreaded on every fieid in Europe for a generation. The tall bearskin, shakos, dark blue coats, faced with red, wide blue trowsers and white gaiters; one might know at a glance in those days that they were mostly veterans of the “‘ Old Guard,” the famous Iron Legion that had made France mistress of Europe, only a few years before, till the Rus- sian frocks rent asunder the power that no other force was able to overcome. The Old Guard in the gardens of the Luxem- bourg. A common sight enough. Nothing, one would say, to gather a crowd; for there were only twelve men avd the young sub-lieutenant of infantry. Yet there was something about the party and the gazing throng that denoted an event of importance about to happen. Looking closer into the crowd, one might see it was composed not only of citizens and women, but that there were many soldiers lounging about in their undress costumes, But not one of the soldiers wore a French uniform. There were tall, raw-boned Highlanders, in their plaids and kilts: red-coated and red-faced grenadiers, a few dragoons in scarlet, numbers of stolid Germans in the blue Prussian uniform, or the white coat of Austria; one or two savage-looking Cossacks; but of the French army the only representatives present were the few veterans of the Old Guard, who stood lean- on their muskets, gloomily eying the ee One might see, too, on the faces of the French 18 whenever a dier near though it was only displayed when the stranger turned his back. And the veterans of the Guard looked as if they ee attending the funeral of some one they love posi while the yousa ces gts | pacing to and fro, turning his back on the crowd; and a close observer might see that his lip was trembli | and that he had hard work to keep from shedding tears.of which 30 stood the crowd and the soldiers, with the peculiar air of vemsg for something we nave noticed, when t C e great clock of Not Dame out its long solemn note over buzz of the , and a low came from the crowd, while the old soldiers gave a slight start, and then bowed their S$ Over their if they were muttering something to himself. | Strange that the striking of a clock should such an effect. There, out in the crowd, women and men had gone down on their knees, the foreign soldiers alone standing = looking amazed at the wransformation, every French person pres- ent was praying softly, hal aloud, regardless One Eye, the Cann by th b -_-- ——_- — — —— ~~ —_——$—————$—— - -- -_—---— — - of prying eyes, as long as the strokes of the clock sounded, : One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Hight! Nine! As the strokes went on the preying became louder, the soldiers of the Guard muttered more plainly, and one might hear the words: ‘Dieu protege son ame! Bon Dieu,. par- donne ses peches! Seigneur Dieu, recois son ame au ciel.” [God pros his soul ! Good God pardon bis sins! Lord God, receive his soul to heaven. ] TEN! The sound of voices ceased as if by magic, and every bead was bowed, as if the people were in church at the elevation of the host. . Then over the perfumed air of the garden came stealing the sound of mournful music, slow, solemn, but ineffably sweet, and even the German and British soldiers began to look un- comfortably round them and at each other as if they felt ashamed of standing up. One old Highlander wiped the back of his hand over his eyes, and spoke in a low voice, heard distinctly for all that, over the crowd: ‘Doon, laddies, doon. Dinna ye ken the puir mon’s comin’?” And without more ado he knelt down in the crowd, an example followed by the British sol- diers with singular unanimity, till only the (Germans, stolid and immovable, remained on their feet, And then the music grew louder and more mournful, and one could plainly distinguish the regular beat of the muffled drums that mark the time of a funeral march. The reason of the expectation was plain at last. The armed veterans of the Old Guard were a firing party. Some one was to be shot to death, But. who was the criminal, whose fate seemed to excite so much sorrow, for whose soul every one..was praying. so earnestly, even the very men who were to kill him? The wild strains of the band came closer, and one might distinguish now the air of that grandest of all compositions m such a Cause, The band was playing Beethoven’s “ Funeral March of a Hero,” never heard before that day, and composed for that man. Clearly he could be no ordinar against military laws, no vulgar coward, Who was he? Nearer and nearer came the band, the hush of the crowd becoming oy every moment, and at last the head of a little procession made its appearance. First came the band, which wheeled off to one side and_ took its position on the right of the Tbe young officer had retired to his place and a silent signal with his sword bad brought ‘men to the position of *‘ Attention!” where the eitin ke statues, staring at the ground. Oo waite on whic t see two soldiers bearing a lay the cocked hat, epaulettes and sword of a marshal of France. And behind the coffin that was to hold his body within a few minutes walked a tall, pow- erfully-built man, with a handsome leonine face, that looked as calm and cheerful as if the doomed one were g to attend a festival. There was no m that face, with the high, bold forebead, slig ly bald at the tem- ples, the firm mouth and jaw, the aquiline nose with distended nostrils, the clear fierce blue eyes and ruddy hair. Had there n any doubt, the groan that came from the crowd would have settled it. ‘“ Mest lui! Crest Ney! Brave des Braves! Dieu sauve son ame !” (Tis he! "Tis Ney! God save his soul !] It was Ney, the doomed marshal, sentenced ie Royalist peers of King Louis the Eigh- teenth to shot for fighting to save France under the tricolor instead of the lilies. He was dressed in a simple shirt and trowsers, offender eserter or Brave of the Braves! . arching for some one bh knew, but could not find, tillhe had reached th never seen a battle, and he grew furious and ordered out three companies from | ment which had been hidden near by, to drive he ‘accursed sans-culottes,” as he called & & driven P d confusion, in the oat which Marshal ey observed, smilingly: “You are too hard en the r devils, mar- quis. They wish to take a last loek at me. t’s all. The marquis sneered. ‘The rabble don’t deserve an ment, marshal. They are only decent treat- 6 Paris mob.” oneer, ee ee s0e;T was bareheaded, and looked from side to side | ee up and he cr wd while the sentence is much noise Then he beckoned to his adjutant. ‘* Read aloud the sentence!’ | The adjutant read it, the condemned man lis- tening with a scornful smile. When it was over, the marquis, who was also a colonel, called up the young officer and said to him: ‘You are Monsieur Albert Delmont, lieu- tenant of infantry, I presume?’ The young man bowed. “ Just graduated from St. Cyr? first duty, is it not?” ** It is, colonel.” “Very well; see you do it properly, and I will mention your name to his majesty for pro- motion. You are about to rid France of a dan- erous traitor, and the king will reward you or the deed.” He spoke in hearing of Ney, who stood by with folded arms, the same scornful smile on his face, watching botb. The young officer looked up at the celone). His face had turned white and his eyes were blazing as he said: ‘‘T beg you will do no such thing, colonel. I am doing my duty as a soldier, because it is a disgrace to disobey orders. But I have written out my resignation, to take effect to-morrow, when this duty is done. I cannot afford to re- main in the Freneh army with the knowledge that I have aided to rob it of the brave of braves. Have you any orders, sir?” The colonel was so gouplused at this sudden ebullition of the quiet-looking boy that he could only ejaculate: ‘*None, none. Shoot him quick. That’s all. Good-day.” And he wheeled his horse away, just as Ney burst info a laugh and cried out: | *“ By heavens, lieutenant, you are just the man | was looking for. Come here.” . But the face of the ‘youth had changed again to an expression of intense sorrow’and shame as he said: ‘‘Oh, monsieur le marechal, if I only thought it would not be cowardly, | would blow out m brains before you. My /irst duty to be this! It is too hard.” - Ney laid his hand on the boy’s shoulder, and his fierce eyes softened as he said: ** My little boy, thou’rt a true French sol¢ier. Hard to the hard, wax to the fire of love. It is thy duty and must be done. France will need no soldiers till thou art past service. A soldier in peace is like asword hung over a fireplace. He rusts till he becomes useless. Thou’rt a brave boy. I see itin thine eye though it be brown, not the steel blue I love best. But Ive seen a brown Damascus blade once that was a good one. I was looking fora brave man as I came bere, to whom to intrustalegacy. Thou art the man. Hark! Quick! Dost Seid the emperor?” ‘* As my life, marshal. Better!” ‘‘Good! Thou knowest they’ve taken him to a lonely rock in the Atlantic to fret himself to death. Darest thou try to rescue him?” ‘“Show me a chance, marshal, and I'll die trying.” ‘Listen then—” J; ‘Why do you hesitate, lieutenant?” cried the Royalist colonel, angrily. ‘“‘Do your duty quickly.” Albert wheeled reund sharply. “It is customary in the service, colonel, to take the dying wishes of the man to be exe- cuted. Thé marshal is giving me bis adieux to This is your pad my I know my duty. Grenadiers, oad! The grim statues started to life and the ram- mers went ringing into the barrels, while Ney went on in a low tone: ‘Very well; you did that coolly. My faith! this is talking business in a hurry.’ It will cost ‘a great deal of money to rescue the emperor, but I know where is buried a treasure sufficient to pay for two such expeditions. Take this pieee of paper; go to the direction it has on it, and whisper in the ear of a man yeu will see with one eye the words: ‘ The violet ma bloom again if you will give tome the marshal’s legacy.’ He will give you a package which ll tell you the rest. Aha! just in time. I see the} Have you the password “Albert repeated it slowly, “Right. And now goed-by. Let me give the word to aim and fire.” “ So saying, he shook hands warmly with Al- bert, and turned toward the Brin squad with an air as as if he were going hor Albert, on the other har aaa hardly speak save in a choked voiee, but he m to say: “The marshal will g orders. Guard! Ready!” Then he saluted Ney Fire on me!” Twelve muskets came up to tke level and flashed a broad sheet of flame, with a single re- rt. Pe When the smoke cleared away, tae dead body of the bravest man in France lay ou the green ‘“My comrades, aim here! ’ com IOO cS (Elo) (e i f