That same evening the lieutenant left the chateau; and in about two months after came a letter, expressing his grat.i.tude for all the kindness of his host, and withal a present of a gun and a cha.s.seur's accoutrement for Alfred.. They were very handsome and costly, and he was never weary of trying them on his shoulder and looking how they became him; when, in examining one of the pockets for the twentieth time, he discovered a folded paper: he opened it, and found it was an appointment for a cadet in the military school of St. Cyr. Alfred de Vitry was written in pencil where the name should be inscribed, but very faintly, and so that it required sharp looking to detect the letters. It was enough, however, for him who read the words: he packed up a little parcel of clothes, and, with a few francs in his pocket, he set out that night for Chalons, where he took the _malle_. The third day, when he was tracked by the Pere, he was already enrolled a cadet, and not all the interest in France could have removed him against his consent.

I will not dwell on a career which was in no respect different from that of hundreds of others. Alfred joined the army in the second Italian campaign--was part of Dessaix's division at Marengo--was wounded at Aspern, and finally accompanied the Emperor in his terrible march to Moscow. He saw more service than his promotion seemed to imply, however; for, after Leipsig, Dresden, Bautzen, he was carried on a litter, with some other dying comrades, into a little village of Alsace--a lieutenant of hussars, nothing more.

An hospital, hastily constructed of planks, had been fitted up outside the village--there were many such, on the road between Strasbourg and Nancy; and here poor Alfred lay, with many more, their sad fate rendered still sadder by the daily tidings, which told them that the cause for which they had shed their blood was hourly becoming more hopeless.

The army that never knew defeat now counted nothing but disasters.

Before Alfred had recovered from his wound, the allies bivouacked in the Place Carrousel, and Napoleon was at Elba!

When little dreaming that he could take any part in that general joy by which France, in one of her least-thinking moments, welcomed back the Bourbons, Alfred was loitering listlessly along one of the quays of Paris, wondering within himself by what process of arithmetic he could multiply seven sous--they were all he had--into the price of a supper and a bed; and while his eyes often dwelt with lingering fondness on the windows of the _restaurants_, they turned, too, with a dreadful instinct towards the Seine, whose eddies had closed over many a sorrow and crime.

As he wandered thus, a cry arose for help: an unfortunate creature--one whose woes were greater, or whose courage to bear them less, than his own--had thrown herself from the Pont-Neuf into the river, and her body was seen to rise and sink several times in the current of the rapid stream, It was from no prompting of humanity--it was something like a mere instinct, and no more--mayhap, too, his recklessness of life had some share in the act;--whatever the reason, he sprung into the river, and, after a long and vigorous struggle, he brought her out alive; and then, forcing through the crowd that welcomed him, he drew his miserable and dripping hat over his eyes. He continued his road--Heaven knows he had little purpose or object to warrant the persistence!

He had not gone far when a number of voices were heard behind him, calling out,--

"That is he!--there he is!" and at the same instant an officer rode up beside him, and, saluting him politely, said that her royal highness the d.u.c.h.ess of Berri desired to speak to him;--her carriage was just by.

Alfred was in that humour when, so indifferent is every object in life, that he would have turned at the bidding of the humblest _gamin_ of the streets; and, wet and weary, he stood beside the door of the splendid equipage.

"It was _thou_ that saved the woman?" said the d.u.c.h.ess, addressing him, and using the conventional "Du," as suitable to his mean appearance.

"Madame," said Alfred, removing his tattered hat, "I am a gentleman!

These rags were once--the uniform of the Guard."

"My G.o.d!--my cousin!" cried a voice beside the d.u.c.h.ess; and, at the same instant, a young girl held out her hands towards him, and exclaimed,--

"Knowest thou not me, Alfred? I am Alice--Alice de Vitry--thy cousin and thy sister!"

It would little interest you to dwell on the steps that followed, and which, in a few weeks, made of a wretched outcast--without a home or a meal--an officer of the _Guard du Corps_, with the order of St. Louis at his breast.

Time sped on, and his promotion with it; and at length his Majesty, graciously desiring to see the old n.o.bility resume their place and grade, consented to the union of Alfred with his cousin. There was no violent love on either side, but there was sincere esteem and devoted friendship; and if they neither of them felt that degree of attachment which becomes a pa.s.sion, they regarded each other with true affection.

Alice was a devoted Royalist: all that she had suffered for the cause had endeared it to her; and she could forgive, but not forget, that her future husband had shed his blood for the Usurper.

Alfred was what every one, and with reason, called a most fortunate fellow: a colonel at twenty-eight--a promotion that, under the Empire, nothing but the most distinguished services could have gained--and yet he was far from happy. He remembered with higher enthusiasm his first grade of "corporal," won at Aspern, and his epaulettes that he gained at Wilna. His soldiering had been learned in another school than in the parade-ground at Versailles, or the avenue of the Champs Elysees.

"Come, _mon ami!_" said Alice, gaily, to him one morning, about ten days before the time appointed for their marriage; "thou art about to have some occasion for thy long-rusting sword: the Usurper has landed at Cannes."

"The Emperor at Cannes!"

"The Emperor, if thou wilt--but without an Empire."

"No matter. Is he without an army?" said Alfred.

"Alone--with some half-dozen followers, at most. Ney has received orders to march against him, and thou art to command a brigade."

"This is good news!" said Alfred; for the very name of war had set his heart a-throbbing; and as he issued forth into the streets, the stirring sounds of excitement and rapid motion of troops increased his ardour.

Wondering groups were gathered in every street, some, discussing the intelligence, others, reading the great placards, which, in letters of portentous size, announced that "the Monster" had once more polluted by his presence the soil of France.

Whatever the enthusiasm of the old Royalists to the Bourbon cause, there seemed an activity and determination on the part of the Buonapartists who had taken service with the King to exhibit their loyalty to the new sovereign; and Ney rode from one quarter of Paris to the other, with a c.o.c.kade of most conspicuous size, followed by a staff equally remarkable.

That same day Alfred left Paris for Lyons, where his regiment lay, with orders to move to the south, by forced marches, and arrest the advance of the small party which formed the band of the invader. It was Alice herself fastened the knot of white ribbon in his shako, and bade him adieu with a fondness of affection he had never witnessed before.

From Paris to Lyons, and to Gren.o.ble, Alfred hastened with prompt.i.tude.

At Lesseim, at last, he halted for orders.

His position was a small village, three leagues in advance of Lesseim, called Dulaure, where, at nightfall on the 18th of March, Alfred arrived with two companies of his regiment, his orders being to reconnoitre the valley towards Lesseim, and report if the enemy should present himself in that quarter.

After an anxious night on the alert, Alfred lay down to sleep towards morning, when he was awoke by the sharp report of a musket, followed immediately after by the roll of the drum and the call for the guard to "turn out." He rushed out, and hastened towards the advanced picket. All was in confusion: some were in retreat; others stood at a distance from their post, looking intently towards it; and at the picket itself were others, again, with piled arms, standing in a close group. What could this mean? Alfred called out, but no answer was returned. The men stared in stupid amazement, and each seemed waiting for the other to reply.

"Where is your officer?" cried De Vitry, in an angry voice.

"He is here!" said a pale, calm-featured man, who, b.u.t.toned up in a grey surtout, and with a low _chapeau_ on his head, advanced towards him.

"You the officer!" replied Alfred, angrily: "you are not of our regiment, sir."

"Pardon me, Colonel," rejoined the other; "I led the twenty-second at Rovigo, and they were with me at Wagram."

"_Grand Dieu!_" said Alfred, trembling; "who are you, then?"

"Your Emperor, Colonel de Vitry!"

Alfred stepped back at the words. The order to arrest and make him prisoner was almost on his lips. He turned towards his men, who instinctively had resumed their formation; his head was maddened by the conflict within it; his eyes turned again towards Napoleon--the struggle was over-he knelt and presented his sword.

"Take mine in exchange, _General_ de Vitry," said the Emperor; "I know you will wear it with honour."

And thus, in a moment, was all forgotten--plighted love and sworn faith--for who could resist the Emperor?

The story is now soon told. Waterloo came, and once more the day of defeat descended, never to dawn upon another victory. Alfred, rejected and scorned, lived years in poverty and obscurity. When the fortunes of the Revolution brought up once more the old soldiers of the Empire, he fought at the Quai Voltaire and was wounded severely. The Three Days over, he was appointed to a sous-lieutenancy in the dragoons. He is now _chef-d'escadron_, the last of his race, weary of a world whose vicissitudes have crushed his hopes and made him broken-hearted.

The relator of this tale was Alfred de Vitry himself, who, under the name of his maternal grandfather, St. Amand, served in the second regiment of Carabiniers.

CHAPTER V.

12 o'clock, Tuesday night, May 31st, 184-.

"Que bella cosa" to be a king! Here am I now, returned from Neuilly, whither I dreaded so much to venture, actually enchanted with the admirable manner of his Majesty Louis Philippe, adding one more to the long list of those who, beginning with Madame de Genlis and Johnson, have delighted to extol the qualities whose pleasing properties have been expended on themselves.

There is, however, something wonderfully interesting in the picture of a royal family living _en bourgeois_--a King sitting with his spectacles on his forehead and his newspaper on his knee, playfully alluding to observations whose fallacy he alone can demonstrate; a Queen busily engaged amid the toils of the work-table, around which Princesses of every European royalty are seated, gaily chatting over their embroidery, or listening while an amusing book is read out by a husband or a brother: even an American would be struck by such a view of monarchy.

The Duc de Nemours is the least prepossessing of the princes; his deafness, too, a.s.sists the impression of his coldness and austerity: while the too-studied courtesy of the Prince de Joinville towards Englishmen is the reverse of an amicable demonstration.

I could not help feeling surprised at the freedom with which his Majesty canva.s.sed our leading political characters; for his intimate acquaintance with them all, I was well prepared. One remark he made worth remembering,--"The Duke of Wellington should always be your Minister of Foreign Affairs, no matter what the changes of party. It is not that his great opportunities of knowing the Continent, a.s.sisted by his unquestionable ability, alone distinguish him, but that his name and the weight of his opinion on any disputed question exert a greater influence than any other man's over the various sovereignties of Europe.

After the Emperor himself, he was the greatest actor in the grand drama of the early part of the century; he made himself conspicuous in every council, even less by the accuracy of his views than by their unerring, unswerving rect.i.tude. The desperate struggle in which he had taken part had left no traces of ungenerous feeling or animosity behind, and the pride of conquest had never disturbed the equanimity of the negotiator."