St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 394 pages of information about St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England.

St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 394 pages of information about St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England.

’And I promise you, by the devil’s horns, that you shall have the chance!’ said he, and pledged me again; and again I did him scrupulous honour.

The news of this defiance spread from prisoner to prisoner with the speed of wings; every face was seen to be illuminated like those of the spectators at a horse-race; and indeed you must first have tasted the active life of a soldier, and then mouldered for a while in the tedium of a jail, in order to understand, perhaps even to excuse, the delight of our companions.  Goguelat and I slept in the same squad, which greatly simplified the business; and a committee of honour was accordingly formed of our shed-mates.  They chose for president a sergeant-major in the 4th Dragoons, a greybeard of the army, an excellent military subject, and a good man.  He took the most serious view of his functions, visited us both, and reported our replies to the committee.  Mine was of a decent firmness.  I told him the young lady of whom Goguelat had spoken had on several occasions given me alms.  I reminded him that, if we were now reduced to hold out our hands and sell pill-boxes for charity, it was something very new for soldiers of the Empire.  We had all seen bandits standing at a corner of a wood truckling for copper halfpence, and after their benefactors were gone spitting out injuries and curses.  ‘But,’ said I, ’I trust that none of us will fall so low.  As a Frenchman and a soldier, I owe that young child gratitude, and am bound to protect her character, and to support that of the army.  You are my elder and my superior:  tell me if I am not right.’

He was a quiet-mannered old fellow, and patted me with three fingers on the back.  ‘C’est bien, mon enfant,’ says he, and returned to his committee.

Goguelat was no more accommodating than myself.  ’I do not like apologies nor those that make them,’ was his only answer.  And there remained nothing but to arrange the details of the meeting.  So far as regards place and time we had no choice; we must settle the dispute at night, in the dark, after a round had passed by, and in the open middle of the shed under which we slept.  The question of arms was more obscure.  We had a good many tools, indeed, which we employed in the manufacture of our toys; but they were none of them suited for a single combat between civilised men, and, being nondescript, it was found extremely hard to equalise the chances of the combatants.  At length a pair of scissors was unscrewed; and a couple of tough wands being found in a corner of the courtyard, one blade of the scissors was lashed solidly to each with resined twine—­the twine coming I know not whence, but the resin from the green pillars of the shed, which still sweated from the axe.  It was a strange thing to feel in one’s hand this weapon, which was no heavier than a riding-rod, and which it was difficult to suppose would prove more dangerous.  A general oath was administered and taken, that no one should interfere in the duel nor (suppose it to result seriously) betray the name of the survivor.  And with that, all being then ready, we composed ourselves to await the moment.

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St. Ives, Being the Adventures of a French Prisoner in England from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.