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145 pages

English

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pubOne.info present you this new edition. A few children had congregated on the steps of the Marienkirche at Dantzig, because the door stood open. The verger, old Peter Koch- on week days a locksmith- had told them that nothing was going to happen; had been indiscreet enough to bid them go away. So they stayed, for they were little girls.

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Publié par	Pub One Info
Date de parution	06 novembre 2010
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9782819949978
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0100€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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BARLASCH OF THE GUARD
By Henry Seton Merriman
“And they that have not heard shall understand”
CHAPTER I. ALL ON A SUMMER'S DAY.
Il faut devoir lever les yeux pour regarder ce qu'onaime.
A few children had congregated on the steps of theMarienkirche at Dantzig, because the door stood open. The verger,old Peter Koch— on week days a locksmith— had told them thatnothing was going to happen; had been indiscreet enough to bid themgo away. So they stayed, for they were little girls.
A wedding was in point of fact in progress withinthe towering walls of the Marienkirche— a cathedral built of redbrick in the great days of the Hanseatic League.
“Who is it? ” asked a stout fishwife, stepping overthe threshold to whisper to Peter Koch.
“It is the younger daughter of Antoine Sebastian, ”replied the verger, indicating with a nod of his head the house onthe left-hand side of the Frauengasse where Sebastian lived. Therewas a wealth of meaning in the nod. For Peter Koch lived round thecorner in the Kleine Schmiedegasse, and of course— well, it is onlyneighbourly to take an interest in those who drink milk from thesame cow and buy wood from the same Jew.
The fishwife looked thoughtfully down theFrauengasse where every house has a different gable, and none ofless than three floors within the pitch of the roof. She singledout No. 36, which has a carved stone balustrade to its broadverandah and a railing of wrought-iron on either side of the stepsdescending from the verandah to the street.
“They teach dancing? ” she inquired.
And Koch nodded again, taking snuff.
“And he— the father? ”
“He scrapes a fiddle, ” replied the verger,examining the lady's basket of fish in a non-committing and finalway. For a locksmith is almost as confidential an adviser as anotary. The Dantzigers, moreover, are a thrifty race and keep theirmoney in a safe place; a habit which was to cost many of them theirlives before the coming of another June.
The marriage service was a long one and notexhilarating. Through the open door came no sound of organ orchoir, but the deep and monotonous drawl of one voice. There hadbeen no ringing of bells. The north countries, with the exceptionof Russia, require more than the ringing of bells or the waving offlags to warm their hearts. They celebrate their festivities withgood meat and wine consumed decently behind closed doors.
Dantzig was in fact under a cloud. No larger than aman's hand, this cloud had risen in Corsica forty-three yearsearlier. It had overshadowed France. Its gloom had spread to Italy,Austria, Spain; had penetrated so far north as Sweden; was nowhanging sullen over Dantzig, the greatest of the Hanseatic towns,the Free City. For a Dantziger had never needed to say that he wasa Pole or a Prussian, a Swede or a subject of the Czar. He was aDantziger. Which is tantamount to having for a postal address asingle name that is marked on the map.
Napoleon had garrisoned the Free City with Frenchtroops some years earlier, to the sullen astonishment of thecitizens. And Prussia had not objected for a very obvious reason.Within the last fourteen months the garrison had been greatlyaugmented. The clouds seemed to be gathering over this prosperouscity of the north, where, however, men continued to eat and drink,to marry and to be given in marriage as in another city of theplain.
Peter Koch replaced his snuff-stained handkerchiefin the pocket of his rusty cassock and stood aside. He murmured afew conventional words of blessing, hard on the heels of strongerexhortations to the waiting children. And Desiree Sebastian cameout into the sunlight— Desiree Sebastian no more.
That she was destined for the sunlight was clearlywritten on her face and in her gay, kind blue eyes. She was talland straight and slim, as are English and Polish and Danish girls,and none other in all the world. But the colouring of her face andhair was more pronounced than in the fairness of Anglo-Saxon youth.For her hair had a golden tinge in it, and her skin was of thatstartlingly milky whiteness which is only found in those who liveround the frozen waters. Her eyes, too, were of a clearer blue—like the blue of a summer sky over the Baltic sea. The rosy colourwas in her cheeks, her eyes were laughing. This was a bride who hadno misgivings.
On seeing such a happy face returning from the altarthe observer might have concluded that the bride had assuredlyattained her desire; that she had secured a title; that thepre-nuptial settlement had been safely signed and sealed.
But Desiree had none of these things. It was nearlya hundred years ago.
Her husband must have whispered some laughingcomment on Koch, or another appeal to her quick sense of thehumorous, for she looked into his changing face and gave a low,girlish laugh of amusement as they descended the steps togetherinto the brilliant sunlight.
Charles Darragon wore one of the countless uniformsthat enlivened the outward world in the great days of the greatestcaptain that history has seen. He was unmistakably French—unmistakably a French gentleman, as rare in 1812 as he is to-day.To judge from his small head and clean-cut features, fine andmobile; from his graceful carriage and slight limbs, this man wasone of the many bearing names that begin with the fourth letter ofthe alphabet since the Terror only.
He was merely a lieutenant in a regiment of Alsatianrecruits; but that went for nothing in the days of the Empire.Three kings in Europe had begun no farther up the ladder.
The Frauengasse is a short street, made narrow bythe terrace that each house throws outward from its face, eachseeking to gain a few inches on its neighbour. It runs from theMarienkirche to the Frauenthor, and remains to-day as it was builtthree hundred years ago.
Desiree nodded and laughed to the children, whointerested her. She was quite simple and womanly, as some women, itis to be hoped, may succeed in continuing until the end of time.She was always pleased to see children; was glad, it seemed, thatthey should have congregated on the steps to watch her pass.Charles, with a faint and unconscious reflex of that grand mannerwhich had brought his father to the guillotine, felt in his pocketfor money, and found none.
He jerked his hand out with widespread fingers, in agesture indicative of familiarity with the nakedness of theland.
“I have nothing, little citizens, ” he said with amock gravity; “nothing but my blessing. ”
And he made a gay gesture with his left hand overtheir heads, not the act of benediction, but of peppering, whichmade them all laugh. The bride and bridegroom passing on joined inthe laughter with hearts as light and voices scarcely lessyouthful.
The Frauengasse is intersected by the Pfaffengasseat right angles, through which narrow and straight street passesmuch of the traffic towards the Langenmarkt, the centre of thetown. As the little bridal procession reached the corner of thisstreet, it halted at the approach of some mounted troops. There wasnothing unusual in this sight in the streets of Dantzig, which wereaccustomed now to the clatter of the Saxon cavalry.
But at the sight of the first troopers CharlesDarragon threw up his head with a little exclamation ofsurprise.
Desiree looked at him and then turned to follow thedirection of his gaze.
“What are these? ” she murmured. For the uniformswere new and unfamiliar.
“Cavalry of the Old Guard, ” replied her husband,and as he spoke he caught his breath.
The horsemen vanished into the continuation of thePfaffengasse, and immediately behind them came a travellingcarriage, swung on high wheels, three times the size of a Dantzigdrosky, white with dust. It had small square windows. As Desireedrew back in obedience to a movement of her husband's arm, she sawa face for an instant— pale and set— with eyes that seemed to lookat everything and yet at something beyond.
“Who was it? He looked at you, Charles, ” saidDesiree.
“It is the Emperor, ” answered Darragon. His facewas white. His eyes were dull, like the eyes of one who has seen avision and is not yet back to earth.
Desiree turned to those behind her.
“It is the Emperor, ” she said, with an odd ring inher voice which none had ever heard before. Then she stood lookingafter the carriage.
Her father, who was at her elbow— tall,white-haired, with an aquiline, inscrutable face— stood in a likeattitude, looking down the Pfaffengasse. His hand was raised beforehis face with outspread fingers which seemed rigid in that gesture,as if lifted hastily to screen his face and hide it.
“Did he see me? ” he asked in a low voice which onlyDesiree heard.
She glanced at him, and her eyes, which were clearas a cloudless sky, were suddenly shadowed by a suspicion quick andpoignant.
“He seemed to see everything, but he only looked atCharles, ” she answered. For a moment they all stood in thesunshine looking towards the Langenmarkt where the tower of theRathhaus rose above the high roofs. The dust raised by the horses'feet and the carriage wheels slowly settled on their bridalclothes.
It was Desiree who at length made a movement tocontinue their way towards her father's house.
“Well, ” she said with a slight laugh, “he was notbidden to my wedding, but he has come all the same. ”
Others laughed as they followed her. For a bride atthe church-door, or a judge on the bench, or a criminal on thescaffold-steps, need make but a very small joke to cause merriment.Laughter is often nothing but the froth of tears.
There were faces suddenly bleached in the littlegroup of wedding-guests, and none were whiter than the handsomefeatures of Mathilde Sebastian, Desiree's elder sister, who lookedangry, had frowned at the children, and seemed to find this simplewedding too bourgeois for her taste. She carried her head with anair that told the world not to expect that she should ever becontent to marry in such a humble style, and walk from the churchin satin slippers like any daugh