LIBRARY • 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 Sir John Constantine
 
 Sir John Constantine 
 
 Memoirs of His Ad'ventures at Home and Abroad, and par- 
 ticularly in the Island of Corsica ; beginning 'iftth 
 the Year 1756; l^ritten by his son. Prosper 
 Paleologus, other<wise Constantine 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 (/^ T,^QUILLER-COUCH) 
 
 ^ 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 NEW YORK I • ' t • : : : 1906
 
 
 ■ ' '^ VJV-' 
 
 Copyright, 1905, 1906, bt 
 CHAKLES SCEIBNEE'S SONS 
 
 Published, September, 1906, 
 
 TRO* OIRECTORY 
 
 PRINTINQ AND BOOKBINDINQ COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTRR PAQB 
 
 I. Of the Lineage and Condition of Sir John 
 
 CONSTANTINE 1 
 
 II. I Ride on a Pilgrimage 10 
 
 III. I Acquire a Kingdom 29 
 
 IV. The Message of the Silfnt Men ... 54 
 V. The Silent Men 69 
 
 VI. How My Father Out of Nothing Built an 
 Army, and in Five Minutes Planned an 
 
 Invasion 84 
 
 VII. The Company of the Rose Ill 
 
 VIII. Tribulations of a Mayor 131 
 
 IX. I Enlist an Army 148 
 
 X. Of the Discussion Held on Board the 
 
 Gauntlet 171 
 
 XL We Fall in with a Sallee Rover . . ,195 
 
 XII. How We Landed on the Island . . . .219 
 
 XIII. How without Fighting Our Army Wasted 
 
 BY Enchantment 243 
 
 XIV. How BY Means of Her Swine I Came to Circe 264 
 XV. I Become Hostage to the Princess Camilla 282 
 
 V
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 XX. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV, 
 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Forest Hut 300 
 
 The First Challenge 319 
 
 The Tender Mercies of Prince Camillo . 332 
 
 How Marc'antonio Nursed Me and Gave 
 
 Me Counsel 346 
 
 I Learn of Liberty, and am Restored to It 365 
 Of My Father's Anabasis; and the Dif- 
 ferent Tempers of an English Gen- 
 tleman AND A Wild Sheep of Corsica . 388 
 
 The Great Adventure 418 
 
 Ordeal and Choosing 436 
 
 The Wooing of Princess Camilla . . 453 
 
 My Wedding Day 467 
 
 The Flame and the Altar 483
 
 Sir John Constantine
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 OF THE LINEAGE AND CONDITION OF SIR JOHN 
 CONSTANTINE 
 
 I have laboured to make a covenant with myself, that affection 
 may not press upon judgment : for I suppose there is no man, that 
 hath any apprehension of gentry or nobleness, but his affection 
 stands to a continuance of a noble name and house, and would 
 take hold of a twig or twine-thread to uphold it : and yet Time hath 
 his revolution, there must be a period and an end of all tempo- 
 ral things, finis rerum, an end of names and dignities and whatso- 
 ever is terrene. . . . For where is Bohun? Where is Mowbray? 
 Where is Mortimer? Nay, which is more and most of all, where 
 is Plantagenet? They are entombed in the urns and sepulchres of 
 mortality. — Lord Chief Justice Crew. 
 
 My father, Sir John Constantine of Constantine, 
 in the county of Cornwall, was a gentleman of am- 
 ple but impoverished estates, who by renouncing the 
 world had come to be pretty generally reputed a mad- 
 man. This did not affect him one jot, since he held 
 precisely the same opinion of his neighbours — with 
 whom, moreover, he continued on excellent terms. 
 He kept six saddle horses in a stable large enough for 
 
 1
 
 SIR JOHJsj COXSTAXTINE 
 
 a regiment of cavalry ; a brace of setters and an in- 
 firm spaniel in kennels which had sometime held 
 twenty couples of hounds ; and himself and his house- 
 hold in a wing of his great mansion, locking off the 
 rest, with its portraits and tapestries, cases of books, 
 and stands of antique arms, to be a barrack for the 
 mice. This household consisted of his brother-in- 
 law, Gervase (a bachelor of punctual habits but a 
 rambling head) ; a butler, Billy Priske ; a cook, Mrs. 
 Xance, who also looked after the housekeeping; two 
 serving-maids ; and, during his holidays, the present 
 writer. My mother (an Arundel of Trerice) had 
 died within a year after giving me birth ; and after a 
 childhood which lacked playmates, indeed, but was by 
 no means neglected or unhappy, my father took me 
 to Winchester College, his old school, to be improved 
 in those classical studies which I had hitherto fol- 
 lowed desultorily under our vicar, Mr. Grylls, and 
 there entered me as a Commoner in the house of Dr. 
 Burton, Head-master. I had spent almost four years 
 at Winchester at the date (Midsummer, 1756) when 
 this story begins. 
 
 To return to my father. He was, as the world 
 goes, a mass of contrarieties. A thorough English- 
 man in the virtues for which foreigners admire us, 
 and in the extravagance at which they smile, he had 
 never even affected an interest in the politics over 
 
 2
 
 LINEAGE AXD COXDITIOX 
 
 which Englishmen grow red in the face ; and this in 
 his youth had commended him to Walpole, who had 
 taken him up and advanced him as well for his abil- 
 ities, address, and singularly fine presence as because 
 his estate then seemed adequate to maintain him in 
 any preferment. Again Walpole's policy abroad — 
 which really treated warfare as the evil it appears in 
 other men's professions — condemned my father, a 
 born soldier, to seek his line in diplomacy ; wherein 
 he had no sooner built a reputation by services at two 
 or three of the Italian courts than, with a knighthood 
 in hand and an ambassadorship in prospect, he sud- 
 denly abandoned all, cast off the world and retired 
 into Cornwall, to make a humdrum marriage and 
 practise fishing for trout. 
 
 The reason of it none knew, or how his estate had 
 come to be impoverished, as beyond doubt it was. 
 Here again he showed himself unlike the rest of men, 
 in that he let the stress of poverty fall first upon him- 
 self, next upon his household, last of all upon his ten- 
 ants and other dependants. After my mother's death 
 he cut down his own charges (the cellar only ex- 
 cepted) to the last penny, shut himself off in a couple 
 of rooms, slept in a camp bed, wore an old velveteen 
 coat in winter and in summer a fisherman's smock, 
 ate frugally, and would have drunk beer or even 
 water had not his stomach abhorred them both. Of 
 
 3
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 wine he drank in moderation — that is to say, for him, 
 since his temperance would have sent nine men out of 
 ten under the table — and of the best. He had indeed 
 a large and obstinate dignity in his drinking. It be- 
 trayed, even as his carriage betrayed beneath his old 
 coat, a king in exile. 
 
 Yet while he pinched himself with these economies, 
 he drew no strings — or drew them tenderly — upon the 
 expenses and charities of a good landlord. The 
 fences rotted around his own park and pleasure 
 grounds, but his tenants' fences, walls, roofs stood in 
 more than moderate repair, nor (although my uncle 
 Gervase groaned over the accounts) would an abate- 
 ment of rent be denied, the appeal having been 
 weighed and found to be reasonable. The rain — 
 which falls alike upon the just and the unjust — beat 
 through his own roof, but never through the labour- 
 er's thatch; and Mrs. Nance, the cook, who hated 
 beggars, might not without art and secrecy dismiss a 
 single beggar unfed. His religion he told to no man, 
 but believed the practice of worship to be good for 
 all men, and regularly encouraged it by attending 
 church on Sundays and festivals. He and the vicar 
 ruled our parish together in amity as fellow-Chris- 
 tians and rival anglers. 
 
 Now all these apparent contrarieties in my father 
 flowed in fact from a very rare simplicity, and this 
 
 4
 
 LINEAGE AND CONDITION 
 
 simplicity again had its origin in his lineage, which 
 was something more than royal. 
 
 On the Cornish shore of the Tamar River, which 
 divides Cornwall from Devon, and a little above Salt- 
 ash, stands the country church of Landulph, so close 
 by the water that the high tides wash by its grave- 
 yard wall. Within the church you will find a mural 
 tablet of brass thus inscribed : 
 
 Here lyeth the body of Theodoro Paleologvs 
 of Pesaro in Italye, descended from y* Imperyall 
 lyne of y" last Christian Emperors of Greece 
 being the sonne of Camilio y" sone of Prosper 
 the Sonne of Theodoro the sonne of John y* 
 Sonne of Thomas second brother to Constantine 
 Paleologvs, the 8th of that name and last of y' lyne y' 
 raygned in Constantinople vntill svb- 
 dewed by the T\Tks who married with Mary 
 y davghter of William Balls of Hadlye in 
 Svffolke gent & had issve 5 children Theo- 
 doro John Ferdinando Maria & Dorothy & de- 
 p'ted this life at Clyfton y* 21th of lanvary 1636 
 
 Above these words the tablet bears an eagle en- 
 graved with two heads, and its talons resting upon 
 two gates (of Rome and Constantinople), with a 
 crescent for difference between the gates, and over 
 all an imperial crown. In truth this exile buried by 
 Tamar drew his blood direct from the loins of the 
 great Byzantine emperors, through that Thomas of 
 whom Mahomet II. said " I have found manv slaves 
 
 5
 
 SIR JOHN coxstanti:n'e 
 
 in Peloponnesus, but this man only " : and from 
 Theodore, through his second son John, came the 
 Constantines of Constantine — albeit with a bar sinis- 
 ter, of which my father made small account. I be- 
 lieve he held privately that a Constantine, de stirpe 
 imperatorum, had no call to concern himself with 
 petty ceremonies of this or that of the Church's off- 
 shoots to legitimise his blood. At any rate no bar 
 sinister appeared on the imperial escutcheon repeated, 
 with quarterings of Arundel, Mohun, Grenville, ^N'e- 
 vile, Archdeckne, Courtney, and, again, Arundel, on 
 the wainscots and in the windows of Constantine, 
 usually with the legend Dahit Devs His Qvoqve 
 Finem, but twice or thrice with a hopefuller one, 
 Generis Revocemus Honores. 
 
 Knowing him to be thus descended, you could rec- 
 ognise in all my father said or did a large simplicity 
 as of the earlier gods, and a dignity proper to a king 
 as to a beggar, but to no third and mean state. A 
 child might beard him, but no man might venture a 
 liberty with him or abide the rare explosions of his 
 anger. You might even, upon long acquaintance, 
 take him for a great, though mad, Englishman, and 
 trust him as an Englishman to the end ; but the soil 
 of his nature was that which grows the vine — vol- 
 canic, breathing through its pores a hidden heat to 
 answer the sun's. Whether or no there be in man a 
 
 6
 
 LINEAGE AND CONDITION 
 
 faith to remove mountains, there is in him (and it 
 may come to the same thing) a fire to split them, and 
 anon to clothe the bare rock with tendrils and soft- 
 scented blooms. 
 
 In person my father stood six feet five inches tall, 
 and his shoulders filled a doorway. His head was 
 large and shapely, and he carried it with a very noble 
 poise ; his face a fine oval, broad across the brow and 
 ending in a chin at once delicate and masterful ; his 
 nose slightly aquiline; his hair — and he wore his 
 own, tied with a ribbon — of a shining white. His 
 cheeks were hollow and would have been cadaverous 
 but for their hue, a sanguine brown, well tanned by 
 out-of-door living. His eyes, of an iron-grey colour, 
 were fierce or gentle as you took him, but as a rule 
 extraordinarily gentle. He would walk you thirty 
 miles any day without fatigue, and shoot you a 
 woodcock against any man ; but as an angler my 
 uncle Gervase beat him. 
 
 He spoke Italian as readily as English ; French 
 and the modern Greek with a little more difficultv ; 
 and could read in Greek, Latin, and Spanish. His 
 books were the " Meditations " of the Emperor Mar- 
 cus Aurelius, and Dante's " Divine Comedv," with 
 the " ^neis," Ariosto, and some old Spanish ro- 
 mances next in order. I do not think he cared greatly 
 for any English writers but Donne and Izaak Walton, 
 
 7
 
 SIE JOHX COXSTANTIXE 
 
 of whose " Angler " and " Life of Sir Henry Wot- 
 ton " he was inordinately fond. In particular he 
 admired the character of this Sir Henry Wotton, 
 singling him out among " the famous nations of the 
 dead" (as Sir Thomas Browne calls them) for a 
 kind of posthumous friendship — nay, almost a pas- 
 sion of memory. To be sure, though with more than 
 a hundred vears between them, both had been bred at 
 Winchester, and both had known courts and em- 
 bassies and retired from them upon entering private 
 life. . . . But who can explain friendship, even 
 after all the essays written upon it ? Certainly j be 
 friends with a dead man was to my father a leat 
 neither impossible nor absurd. 
 
 Yet he possessed two dear living friends at least in 
 my uncle Gervase and Mr. Grylls, and had even dedi- 
 cated a temple to their friendship. It stood about 
 half a mile away from the house, at the foot of the 
 old deer park : a small Ionic summer-house set on a 
 turfed slope facing down a dell upon the Helford 
 River. A spring of water, very cold and pure, rose 
 bubbling a few paces from the porch and tumbled 
 down the dell with a pretty chatter. Tradition said 
 that it had once been visited and blessed by St. Alban, 
 for which cause my father called his summer-house 
 by the saint's name, and annually on his festival 
 (which falls on the 22nd of June) caused wine and 
 
 8
 
 LINEAGE AND CONDITION 
 
 dessert to be carried out thither, where the three drank 
 
 to their common pastime and discoursed of it in the 
 
 cool of the evening within earshot of the lapsing 
 
 water. On many other evenings they met to smoke 
 
 their pipes here, my father and Mr. Grylls playing 
 
 at chequers sometimes, while my uncle wrapped and 
 
 bent, till the light failed him, new trout flies for the 
 
 next day's sport ; but to keep St. Alban's feast they 
 
 never omitted, which mv father commemorated with 
 
 a tablet set against the back wall and bearing these 
 
 Imes: 
 
 ■ ' Peace to this house within this little wood, 
 
 Named of S' Alban and his brotherhood 
 That here would meet and punctual on his day 
 Their heads and hands and hearts together lay, 
 Nor may no years the mem'ries thee untwine 
 Of Grylls W. G. 'j 
 
 "M 
 
 And Arundel G. A. I- Anno 1752 
 
 And Constantine J. C. 
 
 Flvmina amem silvasqve inglorivs. 
 
 Of these two friends of my father I shall speak in 
 their proper place, but have given up this first chap- 
 ter to him alone. My readers maybe will grumble 
 that it omits to tell what they would first choose to 
 learn: the reason why he had exchanged fame and 
 the world for a Cornish exile. But as yet he only — 
 and perhaps my uncle Gervase, who kept the accounts 
 — held the key to that secret. 
 
 9
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 I RIDE ON A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Heus Rogeref jer caballos; 
 Eja, nunc eamus! 
 
 At Winchester, which we boys (though we fared 
 hardly) never doubted to be the first school in the 
 world, as it was the most ancient in England, we had 
 a song we called Domuni: and because our common 
 pride in her — as the best pride will — belittled itself 
 in speech, I trust that our song honoured St. Mary 
 of Winton the more in that it celebrated only the joys 
 of leaving her. 
 
 The tale went, it had been composed (in Latin, 
 too) by a boy detained at school for a punishment 
 during the summer holidays. Another fable im- 
 proved on this by chaining him to a tree. A third 
 imprisoned him in cloisters whence, through the 
 arcades and from the ossuaries of dead scholars and 
 fellows, he poured out his soul to the swallows haunt- 
 ing the green garth — 
 
 Jam repetit domum 
 Daulias advena, 
 Nosque domum repetamus. 
 10
 
 I RIDE ON A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Whatever its origin, our custom was to sing it as 
 the holidays — especially the summer holidays — drew 
 near, and to repeat it as they drew nearer, until every 
 voice was hoarse. As I remember, we kept up this 
 custom with no decrease of fervour through the heats 
 of June, 1755, though they were such that our hosti- 
 arius Dr. Warton, then a new broom, swept us out of 
 school and for a fortnight heard our books (as the old 
 practice had been) in cloisters, where we sat upon 
 cool stone and in the cool airs, and between our 
 tasks watched the swallows at play. Nevertheless 
 we panted, until evening released us to wander 
 forth along the water-meadows by Itchen and bathe, 
 and, having bathed, to lie naked amid the mints 
 and grasses for a while before returning in the 
 twilight. 
 
 This bathing went on, not in one or two great 
 crowds, but in groups, and often in pairs only, scat- 
 tered along the river-bank almost all the way to 
 Hills; it being our custom again at Winchester (and 
 I believe it still continues) to socius or walk with 
 one companion ; and only at one or two favoured 
 pools would several of these couples meet together 
 for the sport. On the evening of which I am to tell, 
 my companion was a boy named Fiennes, of about my 
 own age, and we bathed alone, though not far away 
 to right and left the bank teemed with outcries and 
 
 11
 
 Sm JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 laughter and naked boys running all silvery as their 
 voices in the dusk. 
 
 With all this uproar the trout of Itchen, as you 
 may suppose, had gone into hiding, but doubtless some 
 fine fellows lay snug under the stones, and — the 
 stream running shallow after the heats — as we 
 stretched ourselves on the grass Fiennes challenged 
 me to tickle for one ; it may be because he had heard 
 me boast of my angling feats at home. There seemed 
 a likely pool under the farther bank ; convenient, ex- 
 cept that to take up the best position beside it I must 
 get the level sun full in my face. I crept across, 
 however, Fiennes keeping silence, laid myself flat on 
 my belly, and peered down into the pool, shading my 
 eyes with my hand. For a long while I saw no fish, 
 until the sun rays, striking aslant, touched the edge of 
 a golden fin very prettily bestowed in a hole of the 
 bank and well within an overlap of green weed. Now 
 and again the fin quivered, but for the most part my 
 gentleman lay quiet as a stone, head to stream, and 
 waited for relief from these noisy Wykehamists. 
 Experience perhaps had taught him to despise them : 
 at any rate, when gently — very gently — I lowered my 
 hand and began to tickle, he showed neither alarm 
 nor resentment. 
 
 " Is it a trout ? " demanded Fiennes in an excited 
 whisper from the farther shore. But of course I made 
 
 12
 
 I RIDE o:n^ a pilgrimage 
 
 no answer, and presently I supposed that be must 
 have crept off to his clothes, for some way up the 
 stream I heard the Second Master's voice warning the 
 bathers to dress and return, and with his usual for- 
 mula, " Ite domum saturoe, venit Hesperus, ite cap- 
 ellcB." Being short-sighted, he missed to spy me, and 
 I felt, rather than saw or beard, him pass on ; for 
 with one hand I yet shaded my eyes while with the 
 other I tickled. 
 
 Yet another two minutes went by, and then with a 
 jerk I had my trout, my thumb and forefinger deep 
 under his gills ; brought down my other clutch upon 
 him and, lif<-\ng, flung him back over my head 
 among the meadow grass, my posture being such 
 that I could neither hold him struggling nor recover 
 my own balance save by rolling sideways over 
 on my shoulder-pin; which I did, and, running 
 to him where he gleamed and doubled, flipping the 
 grasses, caught him in both hands and held him 
 aloft. 
 
 But other voices than Fiennes' answered my shout 
 over the river — voices that I knew, though they be- 
 longed not to this hour or this place; and, blinking 
 against the sun, now shining level across Lavender 
 Meads, I was aware of two tall flgures standing dark 
 against it, and of a third and shorter one between 
 whose legs it poured in gold as through a natural 
 
 13
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAXXmE 
 
 arch. Sure no second man in England wore Billy 
 Priske's legs ! 
 
 Then, and while I stood amazed, my father's voice 
 and my uncle Gervase's called to me together ; and, 
 gulping down all wonder, possessed with love only and 
 a wdld joy — but yet grasping my fish — I splashed 
 across the shallows and up the bank, and let my father 
 take me naked to his heart. 
 
 " So, lad," said he after a moment, thrusting me 
 a little back by the shoulders (while I could only 
 sob), and holding me so that the sun fell full on me, 
 " dost truly love me so much ? " 
 
 " Clivver boy, clivver boy ! " said the voice of Billy 
 Priske. " Lord, now, what things they do teach here 
 beside the Latin ! " 
 
 The rogue said it, as I knew, to turn my father's 
 suspicion, having himself taught me the poacher's 
 trick. But my uncle Gervase, whose mind moved 
 as slowly as it was easily diverted, answered with 
 gravity : 
 
 " It is hard knowing what may or may not be use- 
 ful in after-life, seeing that God in His wisdom hides 
 what that life is to be." 
 
 " Very true," agreed my father, with a twinkle, 
 and took snuff. 
 
 " But — but what brings you here ? " cried I, with 
 a catch of the breath, ignoring all this. 
 
 14
 
 I RIDE OX A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 " Nevertheless, such comely lads as they be," my 
 imcle continued, " God will doubtless bring them to 
 good. Comelier lads, brother, I never saw, nor, I 
 think, the sun never shined on ; yet there was one, at 
 the bowls yonder, was swearing so it grieved me to the 
 heart." 
 
 " Put on your clothes, boy," said my father, an- 
 swering me. " We have ridden far, but we bring no 
 ill news; and to-morrow — I have the Head-master's 
 leave for it — vou ride on with us to London." 
 
 " To London ! " My heart gave another great 
 leap, as every boy's must on hearing that he is to see 
 London for the first time. But here we all turned 
 at a cry from Billy Priske, between whose planted 
 ankles Master Eiennes had mischievously crept and 
 was measuring the span between with extended thumb 
 and little finger. My father stooped, haled him to his 
 feet by the collar, and demanded what he did. 
 
 " Why, sir, * he's a Colossus ' ! " quoted that nim- 
 ble youth ; 
 
 '"and we petty men 
 Walk under his huge legs and peer about ' " 
 
 " ' And will find yourself a dishonourable grave,' " 
 my father capped him. " What's your name, 
 boy?" 
 
 " Fiennes, sir ; Xathaniel Eiennes." The lad 
 saluted. 
 
 15
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 My father lifted his hat in answer. " Founder's 
 kin ? " 
 
 " I am here on that condition, sir." 
 
 " Then you are kinsman, as well as namesake, of 
 him who saved our Wykeham's tomb in the Parlia- 
 ment troubles. I felicitate you, sir, and retract my 
 words, for by that action of your kinsman's shall the 
 graves of all his race and name be honoured." 
 
 Young Fiennes bowed. " Compliments fly, sir, 
 when gentlemen meet. But " — and he glanced over 
 his shoulder and rubbed the small of his back ex- 
 pressively — " as a Wykehamist, you will not have me 
 late at names-calling." 
 
 " Go, boy, and answer to yours ; they can call no 
 better one." My father dipped a hand in his pocket. 
 " I may not invite you to breakfast with us to- 
 morrow, for we start early ; and you will excuse me 
 if I sin against custom — it was esteemed a laudable 
 practice in my time." A gold coin passed. 
 
 " Et in scecula swculo — o — rum. Amen!" Mas- 
 ter Fiennes spun the coin, pocketed it, and went off 
 whistling schoolwards over the meads. 
 
 My father linked his arm in mine and we followed, 
 I asking, and the three of them answering, a hundred 
 questions of home. But why, or on what business, 
 we were riding to London on the morrow my father 
 would not tell. " Nay, lad," said he, " take your 
 
 16
 
 I HIDE OX A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 Bible and read that Isaac asked no questions on the 
 way to Mariah." 
 
 My uncle, who overheard this, considered it for a 
 while, and said : " The difference is that you are not 
 going to sacrifice Prosper." 
 
 The three were to lie that night at the Wheel Inn, 
 where they had stabled their horses ; and at the door 
 of the Head-master's house, where we Commoners 
 lodged, they took leave of me, my father commending 
 me to God and good dreams. That they were happy 
 ones I need not tell. 
 
 He was up and abroad early next morning, in time 
 to attend chapel, where by the vigour of his responses 
 he set the nearer boys tittering, two of whom I after- 
 wards fought for it, though with what result I can- 
 not remember. The service, which we urchins 
 heeded little, left him pensive as we walked to- 
 gether towards the inn, and he paused once or twice, 
 with eyes downcast on the cobbles, and muttered to 
 himself. 
 
 " I am striving to recollect my ^Morning Lines, 
 lad," he confessed at length, with a smile ; " and thus, 
 I think, they go. The great Sir Henry Wotton, you 
 have heard me tell of, in the summer before his death 
 made a journey hither to Winchester ; and as he re- 
 turned towards Eton he said to a friend that went 
 with him : ' How useful was that advice of an old 
 
 17
 
 SIPt JOHX COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 monk that we should perform oiir devotions in a con- 
 stant place, because we so meet again with the very 
 thoughts which possessed us at our last being there ! ' 
 And, as Walton tells, ' I find it,' he said, ' thus far 
 experimentally true, that at my now being in that 
 school and seeing that very place where I sat when 
 I was a boy occasioned me to remember those very 
 thoughts of my youth which then possessed me : sweet 
 thoughts indeed ' " 
 
 Here my father paused. " Let me be careful, now. 
 I should be perfect in the words, having read them 
 more than a hundred times. ' Sweet thoughts in- 
 deed,' said he, ' that promised my growing years 
 numerous pleasures, without mixture of cares; and 
 those to be enjoyed when time — which I therefore 
 thought slow-paced — had changed my youth into 
 manhood. But age and experience have taught me 
 these were but empty hopes, for I have always found 
 it true, as my Saviour did foretell. Sufficient unto 
 the day is the evil thereof. Xevertheless, I saw there 
 a succession of boys using the same recreations, and, 
 questionless, possessed with the same thoughts that 
 then possessed me. Thus one generation succeeds 
 another, both in their lives, recreations, hopes, fears, 
 and death.' 
 
 " But I would not have you, lad," he went on, " to 
 pay too much heed to these thoughts, which will come 
 
 18
 
 T RIDE OX A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 to you in time, for as yet you are better without 'em. 
 Nor were they my only thoughts : for having brought 
 back my own sacrifice, which I had sometime hoped 
 might be so great, but now saw to be so little, at that 
 moment I looked down to your place in chapel and 
 perceived that I had brought belike the best offering 
 of all. So my hope — thank God ! — sprang anew as 
 I saw you there standing vigil by what bright ar- 
 mour you guessed not, nor in preparation for what 
 high warfare." He laid a hand on my shoulder. 
 " So your chapel to-day, child, has been the longer 
 by a sermon. There, there! forget all but the 
 tail on't." 
 
 We rode out of Winchester with a fine clatter, all 
 four of us upon hired nags, the Cornish horses being 
 left in the stables to rest; and, after crossing the 
 Hog's Back, baited at Guildford. A thunderstorm 
 in the night had cleared the weather, which, though 
 fine, was cooler, with a brisk breeze playing on the 
 uplands; and still as we went my spirits sang with 
 the larks overhead, so blithe was it to be sitting in a 
 saddle instead of at a scob, and riding to London 
 between the blown scents of hedgerow and havfield 
 and branfield, all fragrant of libertv vet none of them 
 more delicious to a boy than the mingled smell of 
 leather and horseflesh, Billy Priske kept up a chat- 
 ter beside me like a brook's. He had never till now 
 
 19
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 been outside of Cornwall but in a fishing-boat, and 
 though he had come more than two hundred miles 
 each new prospect was a marvel to him. My father 
 told me that, once across the Tamar ferry, being told 
 that he was now in Devonshire, he had sniffed and 
 observed the air to be growing " fine and stuffy " ; 
 and again, near Holt Forest, where my father an- 
 nounced that we were crossing the border between 
 Hampshire and Surrey, he drew rein and sat for 
 a moment looking about him and scratching his 
 head. 
 
 '' The Lord's ways be past finding out," he mur- 
 mured. " Not so much as a post ! " 
 
 " Why should there be a post ? " demanded my 
 uncle. 
 
 " Why, sir, for the men of Hampshire and the 
 men of Surrey to fight over and curse one another by 
 on Ash Wednesdays. But where there's no land- 
 mark a plain man can't remove it, and where he 
 can't remove it I don't see how he can be cursed 
 for it." 
 
 " 'Twould be a great inconvenience, as you say, 
 Billy, if, for the sake of argument, the men of Hamp- 
 shire wanted to curse the men of Surrey." 
 
 " They couldn't do it "—Billy shook his head— 
 " for the sake of argument or any other sake ; and 
 therefore I say, though not one to dictate to the Lord, 
 
 20
 
 I RIDE ON A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 that if a river can't be managed hereabouts — and, 
 these two not being Devon and Cornwall, a whole 
 river might be overdoing things — there ought to be 
 some little matter of a trout-stream, or at the least a 
 notice-board." 
 
 " The fellow's right," said my father. " Man 
 would tire too soon of his natural vices ; so we in- 
 vent new ones for him by making laws and bound- 
 aries." 
 
 " Surely, and virtues too," suggested my uncle, as 
 we rode forward again. " You will not deny that 
 patriotism is a virtue ? " 
 
 " Not I," said my father ; " nor that it is the finest 
 invention of all." 
 
 I remember the Hog's Back and the breeze blow- 
 ing there because on the highest rise we came on a 
 gibbet and rode around it to windward on the broad 
 heathery margin of the road ; and also because the 
 sight put my father in mind of a story which he nar- 
 rated on the way down to Guildford. 
 
 The Story of Our Lady of the Rosary 
 
 " It is told," began my father, " in a sermon of the 
 
 famous Vieyras " 
 
 " For what was he famous ? " asked my uncle. 
 " For being a priest, and yet preaching so good a 
 
 21
 
 SIR JOHX coxsta:n"tine 
 
 sermon on love. It is told in it that in the kingdom 
 of Valencia there lived an hidalgo, young and rich, 
 who fell in love with a virtuous lady, ill treated by 
 her husband : and she with him, howbeit without the 
 least thought of evil. But, as evil suspects its like, 
 so this husband doubted the fidelity which was his 
 without his deserving, and laid a plot to be revenged. 
 On the pretext of the summer heats he removed with 
 his household to a country house ; and there one day 
 he entered a room where his wife sat alone, turned 
 the key, and, drawing out a dagger, ordered her to 
 write what he should dictate. She, being innocent, 
 answered him that there was no need of daggers, but 
 she would write, as her duty was, what he com- 
 manded: which was, a letter to the young hidalgo 
 telling him that her husband had left home on busi- 
 ness; that if her lover would come, she was ready 
 to welcome him ; and that, if he came secretly the 
 next night, he would find the garden gate open, and 
 a ladder placed against the window. This she wrote 
 and signed, seeing no escape ; and, going to her own 
 room, commended her fears and her weakness to the 
 Virgin. 
 
 " The young hidalgo, on receiving the letter (very 
 cautiously delivered), could scarcely believe his bliss, 
 but prepared, as you will guess, to embrace it. Hav- 
 ing dressed himself with care, at the right hour he 
 
 22
 
 I RIDE ON A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 mounted his horse and rode out towards his lady's 
 house. Now he was a devout youth, as youths go, 
 and on his way he remembered — which was no little 
 thing on such an occasion — that since morning he had 
 not said over his rosary as his custom was. So he 
 began to tell it bead by bead, when a voice near at 
 hand said, ' Halt, Cavalier ! ' He drew his sword 
 and peered around him in the darkness, but could see 
 no one, and was fumbling his rosary again when again 
 the voice spoke, saying, ' Look up, Cavalier ! ' and, 
 looking up, he beheld against the night a row of way- 
 side gibbets, and rode in among them to discover who 
 had called him. To his horror one of the malefactors 
 hanging there spoke down to him, begging to be cut 
 loose ; ' and,' said the poor wTetch, ' if you will light 
 the heap of twigs at your feet and warm me by it your 
 charity shall not be wasted.' For Christian charity 
 then the youth, having his sword ready, cut him down, 
 and the gallows knave fell on his feet and warmed 
 himself at the lit fire. ' And now,' said he, being 
 warmed, ' you must take me up behind your saddle ; 
 for there is a plot laid to-night from which only I 
 can deliver you.' So they mounted and rode together 
 to the house, where, having entered the garden by 
 stealth, they found the ladder ready set. ' You must 
 let me climb first,' said the knave ; and had no sooner 
 reached the ladder's top than two or three pistol shots 
 
 23
 
 SIR JOHi^ CONSTANTIIs^E 
 
 were fired upon him from the window and as many 
 hands reached out and stabbed him through and 
 through until he dropped into the ditch; whence, 
 however, he sprang on his feet, and, catching our 
 hidalgo by the arm, hurried him back through the 
 garden to the gate where his horse stood tethered. 
 Then they mounted and rode away into safety, the 
 dead behind the living. ' All this is enchantment to 
 me,' said the youth as they went. ' But I must thank 
 you, my friend; for whether dead or alive — and to 
 my thinking you must be doubly dead — you have ren- 
 dered me a great service.' ' You may say a mass for 
 me, and thank you,' the dead man answered ; ' but 
 for the service you must thank the Mother of God, 
 who commanded me and gave me power to deliver 
 you, and has charged me to tell you the reason of her 
 kindness : which is, that every day you say her 
 rosary.' ' I do thank her and bless her then,' replied 
 the youth, ' and henceforth will I say her rosary not 
 once daily but thrice, for that she hath preserved my 
 life to-night.' " 
 
 " A very proper resolution," said my uncle. 
 
 " And I hope, sir, he kept it," chimed in Billy 
 Priske; " good Protestant though I be." 
 
 " The story is not ended," said my father. " The 
 dead man — they were dismounted now and close 
 under the gallows — looked at the young man angrily 
 
 24
 
 I HIDE ON A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 and said he, ' I doubt Our Lady's pains be wasted, 
 after all. Is it possible, sir, you think she sent me 
 to-night to save your life ? ' ' For what else ? ' in- 
 quired the youth. ' To save your soul, sir, and your 
 lady's; both of which (though you guessed not or 
 forgot it) stood in jeopardy just now, so that the gate 
 open to you was indeed the gate of Hell. Pray hang 
 me back as you found me,' he concluded, ' and go your 
 ways for a fool.' 
 
 " Xow see what happened. The murderers in the 
 house, coming do\\Ti to bury the body and finding it 
 not, understood that the young man had not come 
 alone; from which they reasoned that his servants 
 had carried him off and would publish the crime. 
 They therefore, with their master, hurriedly fled out 
 of the country. The lady betook herself to a religious 
 house, where in solitude questioning herself she found 
 that in will, albeit not in act, she had been less than 
 faithful. As for the hidalgo, he rode home and shut 
 himself within doors, whence he came forth in a few 
 hours as a man from a sepulchre — which, indeed, to 
 his enemies he evidently was when they heard that 
 he was abroad and unliurt whom they had certainly 
 stabbed to death ; and to his friends almost as great 
 a marvel when they perceived the alteration of his 
 life; and to himself the greatest of all, who alone 
 knew what had passed, and that, as by enchantment 
 
 25
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 his life had taken this turn, so he spent its remainder 
 like a man enchanted rather than converted. I am 
 told," my father concluded, " though the sermon says 
 nothing about it, that he and the lady came in the 
 end, and as by an accident, to be buried side by side, 
 at a little distance, in the Chapel of Our Lady of 
 Succour in the cathedral church of Valencia, and 
 there lie stretched — two parallels of dust — to meet 
 only at the Resurrection when the desires of all dust 
 shall be purged away." 
 
 With this story my father beguiled the road down 
 into Guildford, and of his three listeners I was then 
 the least attentive. Years afterwards, as you shall 
 learn, I had reason to remember it. 
 
 At Guildford, where Ave fed ourselves and our 
 horses and rested them for an hour, I took Billy 
 aside and questioned him (forgetting the example of 
 Isaac) why we were going to London and on what 
 business. He shook his head. 
 
 " Squire knows," said he. " As for me, a still 
 tongue keeps a wise head, and moreover I know not. 
 Bain't it enough for 'ee to be quit of school and 
 drinking good ale in the kingdom o' Guildford? 
 Very well, then." 
 
 " Still, one cannot help wondering," said I, half 
 to myself; but Billy took me up. 
 
 " The last friend a man should want to take up 
 
 26
 
 I RIDE ON A PILGRIMAGE 
 
 with is liis Future/' said he, sagely. " I knows 
 naught about en but what's to his discredit — as that 
 I shall die sooner or later, a thing that goes against 
 my stomach ; or that at the best I shall grow old, 
 which runs counter to my will. lie's that uncom- 
 fortable, too, you can't please him. Take him hope- 
 ful, and you're counting your chickens ; take him 
 doleful, and foreboding is worse than witchcraft. 
 There was a Mevagissey man I sailed with as a boy 
 — and your father's tale just now put me in mind 
 of him — paid half-a-crown to a conjurer, one time, 
 to have his fortune told ; which was, that he would 
 marry the ugliest maid in the parish. Whereby it 
 preyed on his mind till he hanged hisself. Whereby 
 along comes the woman in the nick o' time, cuts him 
 do^vn, an' marries him out o' pity while he's too weak 
 to resist. That's your Future ; and, as I say, I 
 keeps en at arm's length." 
 
 With this philosophy of Billy I had to be content 
 and find my own guesses at the mystery. But as the 
 afternoon wore on I kept no hold on any speculation 
 for more than a few minutes. I was saddle-wearv, 
 drowsed with sunburn and the moving landscape over 
 which the sun, when I turned, swam in a haze of dust. 
 The villages crowded closer, and at the entry of each 
 I thought London was come, but anon the houses 
 thinned and dwindled and we were between hedge- 
 
 27
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAXTINE 
 
 rows again. So it lasted, village after village, until 
 with the shut of night, when the long shadows of 
 our horses before us melted into dusk, a faint glow 
 opened on the sky ahead and grew and brightened. 
 I knew it : but even as I saluted it mj chin dropped 
 forward and I dozed. In a dream I rode through the 
 lighted streets, and at the door of our lodgings my 
 father lifted me down from the saddle. 
 
 28
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 Gloucester. The trick of that voice I do well remember: 
 
 Is't not the king? 
 Lear. Ay, every inch a king. — King Lear. 
 
 Surely he hath ruled enough; 
 Mark the leather of his gauntlet, how the worms are in the stuff. 
 
 The Two Old Kings. 
 
 From our lodgings, which were in Bond Street, we 
 sallied forth next morning to view the to^vn; my 
 father leading lis first by way of St. James's and 
 across the Park to the Abbey, and on the way holding 
 discourse to which I recalled myself with difficulty 
 from London's shows and wonders — his Majesty's 
 tall guards at the palace gates, the gorgeous prome- 
 naders in the Mall, the swans and wild fowl on the 
 lake. " I wish you to remark, my dear child," said 
 he, " that between a capital and solitude there is no 
 third choice; nor, I would add, can a mind extract 
 the best of solitude unless it bring urbanity to the 
 wilderness. Your rustic is no philosopher, and your 
 provincial townsman is the devil : if you would medi- 
 tate in Arden, your company must be the Duke, 
 
 29
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 Jaqiies, Touchstone — courtiers all — or, again, Rosa- 
 lind, the Duke's daughter, if you would catch the 
 very mood of the forest. I tell you this, child, that 
 you may not he misled by my example (which has a 
 reason of its own and, I trust, an excuse) into shun- 
 ning your destiny though it lead and keep you in 
 cities and among crowds ; for we have it on the word 
 of no less busy a man than the Emperor Marcus Au- 
 relius that to seek out private retiring-rooms for the 
 soul such as country villages, the sea-shore, moun- 
 tains, is but a mistaken simplicity, seeing that at 
 what time soever a man will it is in his power to 
 retire into himself and be at rest, dwelling within 
 the walls of a city as in a shepherd's fold of the 
 mountain. So also the sainted Juan du Avila tells 
 us that a man who trusts in God may, if he take 
 pains, recollect God in streets and public places bet- 
 ter than will a hermit in his cell ; and the excellent 
 Archbishop of Cambrai, writing to the Countess of 
 Gramont, counselled her to practise recollection and 
 give a quiet thought to God at dinner times in a lull 
 of the conversation, or, again, when she was driving 
 or dressing or having her hair arranged ; these hin- 
 drances (said he) profited more than any engoument 
 of devotion. 
 
 " But," he went on, " to bear yourself rightly in 
 a crowd you must study how one crowd differs from 
 
 '60
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 another, and how in one city you may have that great 
 orderly movement of life (whether of business or of 
 pleasure) which is the surrounding joy of princes in 
 their palaces, and an insensate mob, which is the most 
 brutal and at the same time the vilest aspect of man. 
 For as in a thronged street you may learn the high 
 meaning of citizenship, so in a mob you may unlearn 
 all that makes a man dignified. Yet even the mob 
 you should study in a capital, as Shakespeare did in 
 his " Julius Csesar " and his " Coriolanus " ; for only 
 so can you know it in its quiddity. I conjure you, 
 child, to get your sense of men from their capital 
 cities." 
 
 He had something to tell of almost every great 
 house we passed. He seemed — he that had saluted 
 no one as w^e crossed the Mall, saluted of none — to 
 walk this quarter of London with a proprietary 
 tread ; and by and by, coming to the river, he waved 
 an arm and broke into panegyric. 
 
 " Other capitals have had their turn and others 
 will overtake and outstrip her; but where is one in 
 these times to compare with London ? Where in 
 Europe will you see streets so well ordered, squares 
 so spacious, houses so comfortable, yet elegant, as in 
 this mile east and south of Hvde Park ? Where such 
 solid, self-respecting wealtli as in our City ? Where 
 such merchant-princes, such merchant-adventurers as 
 
 31
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 they of whom Whittington struck the note ? Where 
 half its commerce ? and where a commerce touched 
 with one tithe of its imagination? Where such a 
 river, for trade as for pageants? On what other 
 shore two buildings side by side so famous, the one 
 for just laws, civil security, liberty with obedience, 
 the other for heroic virtues resumed, with their prop- 
 agating dust, into the faith which sowed all and, 
 having reaped, renews ? " 
 
 In the Abbey — where my uncle Gervase was 
 forced to withdraw behind a pillar and rub Billy 
 Priske's neck, which by this time had a crick in it 
 — my father's voice, as he moved from tomb to tomb, 
 deepened to a regal solemnity. He repeated Beau- 
 mont's great lines : 
 
 "Mortality, behold and fear! 
 What a change of flesh is here!" 
 
 laying a hand on my shoulder the while ; and in the 
 action I understood that this and all his previous dis- 
 course was addressed to me with a purpose, and that 
 somehow our visit to London had to do with that 
 purpose. 
 
 "Here they lie had realms and lands 
 Who now want strength to stir their hands; 
 Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust 
 They preach 'In greatness is no trust' . . . 
 Here are sands, ignoble things, 
 Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings. ..." 
 32
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 I must have fallen a-wondering while he quoted 
 in a low sonorous voice, half eager; for as it 
 ceased I came to myself with a start and found 
 his eyes searching me ; also his hold on my shoulder 
 had stiffened, and he held me from him at arm's 
 length. 
 
 " And yet," said he as if to himself, " this dust is 
 the strongest man can build with ; and we must build 
 in our generation — quickly, trusting in the young, 
 firm flesh; yes, quickly — and trusting — though we 
 know what its end must be." 
 
 These last words he muttered, and afterwards 
 seemed to fall into a meditation which lasted until 
 we found ourselves outside the Abbey and in the light 
 again. 
 
 From Westminster we took boat to Blackfriars 
 and, landing there, walked up through the crowded 
 traffic to a gateway opening into Clement's Inn. I 
 did not know its name at the time, nor did I regard 
 the place as we entered, being yet fascinated with the 
 sight of Temple Bar and of the heads of four traitors 
 above it on poles, blackening in the sunshine ; but 
 within the courtyard we turned to the right and 
 moimted a staircase to the head of the second flight 
 and to a closed door on which my father knocked. A 
 clerk opened, and presently we passed through an 
 office into a well-sized room where, from amid a pile 
 
 33
 
 SIR JOH^^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 of books, a grave little man rose, reached for his wig 
 and, having adjusted it, bowed to us. 
 
 "Good morning! Good morning, gentlemen! 
 Ah — er — Sir John Constantine, I believe ? " 
 
 My father bowed. " At your service, Mr. Knox. 
 You received my letter, then ? Let me present my 
 brother-in-law and man of affairs, Mr. Gervase Arun- 
 del, who will discuss with you the main part of our 
 business; also my son here, about whom I wrote to 
 you." 
 
 "Eh? Eh?" Mr. Knox, after bowing to my 
 uncle, put on his spectacles, took them off, wiped 
 them, put them on again, and regarded me benevo- 
 lently. " Eh ? so this is the boy — h'm — Jasper, I 
 believe ? " 
 
 " Prosper," my father corrected. 
 
 " Ah, to be sure — Prosper — and I hope he will, 
 I'm sure." Mr. Knox chuckled at his mild little wit- 
 ticism and twinkled at me jocosely. " Your letter. 
 Sir John ? Yes, to be sure, I received it, and what 
 you propose is practicable, though irregular." 
 
 " Irregular ? " 
 
 " Xot legally irregular — oh, no, not in the least. 
 Legally the thing's as simple as A B C. The man has 
 only to take the benefit of the Act of Insolvency, 
 assign his estate to his creditors, and then — suppos- 
 ing that they are agreed " 
 
 34
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 " There can be no question of their agreement or 
 disagreement. His creditors do not exist. As I told 
 you, I have paid them off, bought up all their debts, 
 and the yes or no rests with me alone," 
 
 " Quite so ; I was merely putting it as the Act 
 directs. Very well then, supposing you agree, noth- 
 ing more is necessary than an appearance — a purely 
 formal appearance — at the Old Bailey, and your un- 
 fortunate friend " 
 
 " Pardon me," my father put in ; " he is not ray 
 friend." 
 
 " Eh ? " . . . Mr, Knox removed his spectacles, 
 breathed on them, and rubbed them, while he re- 
 garded my father with a bewildered air. " You'll 
 excuse me , . . but I must own myself entirely puz- 
 zled. Even for a friend's sake, as I was about to 
 protest, your conduct, sir, would be Quixotic ; yes, 
 yes. Quixotic in the highest degree, the amount being 
 (as you might say) princely, and the security — " 
 Mr. Knox paused and expressed his opinion of the 
 security by a pitying smile, " But if," he resumed, 
 " this man be not even vour friend, then, mv dear 
 sir, I can merely wonder." 
 
 For a moment my father seemed about to argue 
 with him, but checked himself. 
 
 " None the less the man is very far from being my 
 friend," he answered quietly, 
 
 35
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " But surely — surely, sir, you cannot be doing 
 this in any hope to recover what he already owes you ! 
 That were indeed to throw the helve after the hatchet ; 
 nay, sir, it were madness — stark madness ! " 
 
 My father glanced at my uncle Gervase, who stood 
 pulling his lip ; then with an abrupt motion he turned 
 on Mr. Knox again. 
 
 " You have seen him ? You delivered my letter ? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " What was his answer ? " 
 
 Mr. Knox shrugged his shoulders. " He jumped 
 at it, of course." 
 
 " And the boy, here ? What did he say about the 
 boy?" 
 
 " Well, to speak truth. Sir John, he seemed pass- 
 ably amused by the whole business. The fact is, 
 prison has broken him up. A fine figure he must 
 have been in his time, but a costly one to maintain 
 ... as tall as yourself, Sir John, if not taller ; and 
 florid, as one may say; the sort of man that must 
 have exercise and space and a crowd to admire him, 
 not to mention wine and meats and female society. 
 The Fleet has broken down all that. Even with 
 liberty I wouldn't promise him another year of life ; 
 and, unless I'm mistaken, he knows his case. A rare 
 actor, too ! It wouldn't surprise me if he'd even de- 
 ceived himself. But the mask's off. Your offer over- 
 
 36
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 joyed him ; that goes without saying. In spite of all 
 your past generosity this new offer obviously struck 
 him for the moment as too good to be true. But I 
 cannot say, Sir John, that he made any serious effort 
 to keep up the imposture or pretend that the security 
 which alone he can offer is more than a sentimental 
 one. Not to put too fine a point on it, he ordered in 
 a couple of bottles of wine at my expense, and over 
 the second I left him laughing." 
 
 My father frowned. " And yet this man, Mr. 
 Knox, is an anointed king." 
 
 " Of Corsica." Mr. Knox shrugged his shoulders. 
 " You may take my word for it, he's an anointed 
 actor — or was." 
 
 " One can visit him, I suppose ? " 
 
 " At the most the turnkey will expect half a crown. 
 Oh, dear me, yes ! for a crowned head he's accessible." 
 
 My father took me by the arm. " Come along 
 then, child. And you, Gervase, get your business 
 through with Mr. Knox and follow us, if you can, in 
 half an hour. You " — he turned to Billy Priske — 
 " had best come with us. 'Tis possible I may need 
 you all as witnesses." 
 
 He walked me out and downstairs and through 
 the lodge gateway; and so under Temple Bar again 
 and down Fleet Street through the throng; till near 
 the foot of it, turning up a side street out of the noise, 
 
 37
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 we found ourselves in face of a gateway which could 
 only belong to a prison. The gate itself stood open, 
 but the passage led to an iron-barred door, and in the 
 passage — which was cool but indescribably noisome 
 — a couple of children were playing marbles with 
 half a dozen turnkeys looking on, and (I believe) 
 betting on the game. 
 
 My father sniifed the air in the passage and turned 
 to me. " Gaol-fever," he announced. " Please God, 
 child, we won't be in it long." He rescued Billy 
 from the two urchins who had dropped their game 
 to pinch his calves, and addressed a word to one of 
 the turnkeys, at the same time passing a coin. The 
 fellow looked at it and touched his hat. 
 
 " Second court, first floor, number thirty-seven." 
 He opened a wicket in the gate. " This way, please, 
 and sharp to the right." 
 
 The narrow court into which we descended by a 
 short flight of steps was, as I remember, empty ; but, 
 passing under an archway and through a kind of 
 tunnel, we entered a larger one crowded with men, 
 some gathered in groups, others pacing singly and 
 dejectedly, the most of them slowly, too, with bowed 
 heads, but three or four with fierce strides as if in 
 haste to keep an appointment. One of them, coming 
 abreast of us as the turnkey led us off to a staircase 
 on the left, halted, drew himself up, stared at us for 
 
 38
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 a moment with vacant eyes, and hurried by ; yet 
 before we mounted the stairs I saw him reach the 
 farther wall, wheel, and come as hastily striding 
 back. 
 
 The stairway led to a filthy corridor, pierced on 
 the left with a row of tiny windows looking on the 
 first and empty courtyard ; and on the right with a 
 close row of doors, the most of which stood open and 
 gave glimpses of foul, disordered beds, broken meats, 
 and barred windows crusted with London grime. 
 The smell was pestilential. Our turnkey rapped on 
 one of the closed doors, and half-flung, half-kicked 
 it open; for a box had been set against it on the 
 inside. 
 
 " Visitors for the Baron," he announced, and stood 
 aside to let us enter. My father had ordered Billy 
 to wait below. We two passed in together. 
 
 Now my father, as I have said, was a tall man; 
 yet it seemed to me that the figure which gi-eeted us 
 was taller as it rose from the bed and stood between 
 us and the barred dirty window. By little and little 
 I made out that he wore an orange-coloured dressing- 
 gown, and on his head a Turk's fez; that he had 
 pushed back a table at which, seated on the bed, he 
 had been writing; and that on the sill of the closed 
 window behind him stood a geranium-plant dry with 
 dust and withering in the stagnant air of the room. 
 
 39
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 But as yet, since he stood with his back to the little 
 light, I could not make out his features. I marked, 
 however, that he shook from head to foot. 
 
 My father bowed — a very reverent and stately bow 
 it was too — regarded him for a moment, and, taking 
 a pace backward to the door, called after the retreat- 
 ing turnkey, to whom he addressed some order in a 
 tone to me inaudible. 
 
 " You are welcome, Sir John," said the prisoner 
 as my father faced him again ; " though to my shame 
 I cannot offer you hospitality." He said it in Eng- 
 lish, with a thick and almost guttural foreign accent, 
 and his voice shook over the words. 
 
 '' I have made bold, sire, to order the remedy." 
 
 " ^ Sire ! ' " the prisoner took him up with a flash 
 of spirit. " You have many rights over me. Sir 
 John, but none to mock me, I think." 
 
 " As you have no right to hold me capable of it, in 
 such a place as this," answered my father. " I ad- 
 dressed you in terms which my errand proves to be 
 sincere. This is my son Prosper, of whom I wrote." 
 
 " To be sure — to be sure." The prisoner turned to 
 me and looked me over — T am bound to say with no 
 very great curiosity — and sideways, in the half-light, 
 I had a better glimpse of his features, which were 
 bold and handsome but dreadfully emaciated. He 
 seemed to lose the thread of his speech, and his hands 
 
 40
 
 I ACQUIKE A KINGDOM 
 
 strayed towards the table as if in search of something. 
 " Ah, yes, the boy," said he vaguely. 
 
 The turnkey entering just then with two bottles of 
 •wine, my father took one from him and filled an 
 empty glass that stood on the table. The prisoner's 
 fingers closed over it. 
 
 " I have much to drown," he explained as, having 
 gulped down the wine, he refilled his glass at once, 
 knocking the bottle-neck on its rim in his clattering 
 haste. " Excuse me ; you'll find another glass in the 
 cupboard behind you. . . . Yes, yes, we were talk- 
 ing of the boy. . . . Are you filled ? . . . We'll 
 drink to his health ! " 
 
 " To your health. Prosper," said my father 
 gravely, and drank. 
 
 " But, look here — I had your letter all right, and 
 it sounds too good to be true. Only " — and into the 
 man's eyes there crept a sudden cunning — " I don't 
 understand what you want of me." 
 
 " You may think it much or little ; but all we want 
 — or, rather, all my boy wants — is your blessing." 
 
 " So I gathered ; and that's funny, by God ! My 
 blessing — mine — and here ! " He flung out a hand. 
 " I've had some strange requests in my time ; but 
 damn me if I reckoned any man any longer wanted 
 my blessing." 
 
 " My son does, though ; and even such a blessing 
 
 41
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 as your own son would need, if you had one. You 
 understand ? " — for the prisoner's eyes had wan- 
 dered to the barred window — " I mean the blessing 
 of Theodore the First." 
 
 " You are a strange fellow, John Constantine," 
 was the answer, in a weary, almost pettish tone. 
 " God knows I have more reason to be grateful to you 
 than to any man alive " 
 
 " But you find it hard ? Then give it over. You 
 may do it with the lighter heart since gratitude from 
 you — did I ever perceive it — would be offensive to 
 me." 
 
 " If you played for this — worthless prize as it is 
 — from the beginning " 
 
 Again my father took him up; and, this time, 
 sternly. " You know perfectly well that I never 
 played for this from the beginning; nor had ever 
 dreamed of it while there was a chance that you — 
 or she — might leave a child. I will trouble you — " 
 My father checked himself. " Your pardon, I am 
 speaking roughly. I will beg you, sire, to remember 
 first that you claimed and received my poor help 
 while your infant daughter lived, while there was yet 
 a likelihood of your having many children, before 
 your wife left you, and a good year before I myself 
 married or dreamed of marrying. I will beg you 
 further to remember that no payment of what you 
 
 42
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 owed to me was ever enforced, and that the creditors 
 who sent you and have kept you here are commercial 
 persons with whom I had nothing to do ; whose names 
 until the other day were strange to me. Now I will 
 admit that I play for a kingdom." 
 
 " You really think it worth while ? " The pris- 
 oner, who had stood all this time blinking at the 
 window, his hands in the pockets of his dirty dress- 
 ing-gown, turned again to question him. 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " But listen a moment. I have had too many fa- 
 vours from you, and I don't want another under false 
 pretences. You may call it a too-late repentance, 
 but the fact remains that I don't. Liberty ? " — he 
 stretched out both gaunt arms, far beyond the sleeves 
 of his gown, till they seemed to measure from side 
 to side of the room and to thrust its walls wide. 
 " Even with a week to live I would buy it dear — 
 you don't know, John Constantine, how you tempt 
 me — but not at that price." 
 
 " Your title is good. I will take the risk." 
 
 " How good or how bad my title is, you know. 
 'Tis the inheritance against which I warn you." 
 
 " I take the risk," my father repeated, " if you 
 will sign." 
 
 The prisoner shrugged his shoulders and helped 
 himself to another glassful. 
 
 43
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " We must have witnesses," said my father. 
 '' Have you a clergyman in this den ? " 
 
 " To be sure we have. The chaplain, we call him. 
 Figg — Jonathan Figg's his name; the Reverend 
 Jonathan Figg, B.A., of Sidney Sussex College, Cam- 
 bridge ; a good fellow and a moderately hard drinker. 
 He spends the best part of his morning marrying up 
 thieves and sailors to trulls ; but he's usually leaving 
 church about this time, if a messenger can catch him 
 before he's off to breakfast with 'em. Half an hour 
 hence he'll be too drunk to sign his name." 
 
 " Prosper " — my father swung round on me — 
 " run you down to Billy and take him off to search 
 for this clergyman. If on your way you meet with 
 your uncle and Mr. Knox, say that we shall require 
 them, too, as witnesses." 
 
 I ran down to the courtyard, but no Billy could I 
 see ; only the dejected groups of prisoners, and among 
 them the one I had marked before, still fiercely strid- 
 ing, and still, at the wall, returning upon his track. 
 I hurried out to the gate, and there, to my amaze- 
 ment, found Billy in the clutches of a strapping im- 
 pudent wench and surrounded by a ring of turnkeys, 
 who were splitting their sides with laughter. 
 
 " I won't ! " he was crying. " I'm a married man, 
 I tell 'ee, and the father of twelve ! " 
 
 " Oh, Billy ! " I cried, aghast at the lie. 
 
 44
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 " There was no other way, lad. For the Lord's 
 sake fetch Squire to deliver me ! " 
 
 Before I could answer or ask what was happening, 
 the damsel rounded on me. 
 
 " Boy," she demanded, " is this man deceiving 
 me?" 
 
 " As for that, ma'am," I answered, " I cannot say. 
 But that he's a bachelor I believe ; and that he hates 
 women I have his word over and over." 
 
 " Then he shall marry me or fight me," she an- 
 swered very coolly, and began to strip off her short 
 bodice. 
 
 " There's twelve o'clock," announced one of the 
 turnkeys as the first stroke sounded from the clock 
 above us over the prison gateway. " Too late to be 
 married to-day ; so a fight it is." 
 
 " A ring ! a ring ! " cried the others. 
 
 I looked in Billy's face, and in all my life (as I 
 have since often reminded him) I never saw a man 
 worse scared. The woman had actually thrown off 
 her jacket and stood up in a loose under-bodice that 
 left her arms free — and exceedingly red and brawny 
 arms they were. How he had come into this plight 
 I could guess as little as what the issue was like to 
 be, when in the gateway there appeared my uncle and 
 Mr. Knox, and close at their heels a rabble of men 
 and women arm-in-arm, headed by a red-nosed clergy- 
 
 45
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 man with an immense white favour pinned to his 
 breast. 
 
 "Hey? What's to do — what's to do?" inquired 
 Mr. Knox. 
 
 The clergyman thrust past him with a " Par- 
 don me, sir," and addressed the woman. " What's 
 the matter, Nan ? Is the bridegroom fighting 
 shy ? " 
 
 " Please your reverence, he tells me he's the father 
 of twelve." 
 
 " H'm." The priest cocked his head on one side. 
 " You find that an impediment ? " 
 
 " And a married man, your reverence." 
 
 " Then he has the laughing side of you, this time," 
 said his reverence promptly, and took snuff. " Tut, 
 tut, woman — down with your fists, button up your 
 bodice, and take disappointment with a better grace. 
 Come, no nonsense, or you'll start me asking what's 
 become of the last man I married ye to." 
 
 " Sir," interposed my uncle, " I know not the head 
 or tail of this quarrel. But this man Priske is my 
 brother's servant, and if he told the lady what she 
 alleges, for the credit of the family I must correct 
 him. In sober truth he's a bachelor and no more the 
 father of twelve than I am." 
 
 This address, delivered with entire simplicity, set 
 the whole company gasping. Most of all it seemed 
 
 46
 
 I ACQUIRE A KTXGDOM 
 
 to astonish the woman, who could not be expected to 
 know that my uncle's chivalry accepted all her sex, 
 the lowest with the highest, in the image in which 
 God made it and without defacement. 
 
 The priest was the first to recover himself. " Mj 
 good sir," said he, " your man may be the father of 
 twelve or the father of lies, but I'll not marry him 
 after stroke of noon, for that's my rule. Moreover " 
 — he swept a hand towards the bridal party behind 
 him — " these turtles have invited me to eat roast 
 duck and green peas with 'em, and I hate my gravy 
 cold." 
 
 " Ay, sir ? " asked my uncle. " Do you tell me 
 that folks marry and give in marriage wathin this 
 dreadful place ? " 
 
 " Now and then, sir ; and in the liberties and pur- 
 lieus thereof with a readiness that would astonish 
 you ; which, since I cannot hinder it, I sanctify. My 
 name is Figg, sir — Jonathan Figg; and my office 
 Chaplain of the Fleet." 
 
 " And, if it please you, sir," I put in, " my father 
 lias sent me in search of you, to request that you will 
 come to him at once." 
 
 " And you have heard me say, young sir, that I 
 marry no man after stroke of noon ; no, nor will visit 
 him sick unless he be in articulo mortis." 
 
 " But my father neither wants to be married, sir, 
 
 47
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 nor is he sick at all. I believe it is some matter of 
 witnessing an oath." 
 
 " Hath he better than roast duck and green peas 
 to offer, hey ? ISTo ? Then tell him he may come and 
 witness my oath, that I'll see him first to Jericho." 
 
 " Whereby, if I mistake not," said Mr. Knox 
 quietly, " your pocket will continue light of two 
 guineas ; and I may add, from Avhat I know of Sir 
 John Constantine, that he is quite capable, if he re- 
 ceive such an answer, of having your blood in a 
 bottle." 
 
 " ' Sir John Constantine ? ' did I hear you say. 
 ' Sir John Constantine ? ' " queried the Reverend Mr. 
 Figg with a complete change of manner. " That's 
 quite another thing! Anything to oblige Sir John 
 Constantine, I'm sure " 
 
 " Do you know him ? " asked my uncle. 
 
 " Well — er — no ; I can't honestly declare that I 
 Tcnow him ; but, of course, one knows of him — that is 
 to say, I understand him to be a gentleman of title ; 
 a knight at least." 
 
 " Yes," my uncle answered, " he is at least that. 
 What a very extraordinary person ! " he added in a 
 wondering aside, which I caught, though he had in- 
 tended it for Mr. Knox alone. 
 
 Oddly enough, as we were leaving, I heard 
 the woman Nan say pretty much the same of my 
 
 48
 
 I ACQUIKE A KINGDOM 
 
 uncle. She added that she had a great mind to kiss 
 him. 
 
 We found my father and the prisoner seated, with 
 the bottle between them on the rickety liquor-stained 
 table. Yet — as I remember the scene now — not all 
 the squalor of the room could efface or diminish the 
 majesty of their two figures. They sat like two tall 
 old kings, eye to eye, not friends, or made friends 
 only in this last and lonely hour, meditating man's 
 common fate. If I cannot make you understand this, 
 what follows will seem to you absurd, though indeed 
 at the time it was not so. 
 
 My father rose as we entered. " Here is the boy 
 returned," said he ; " and the witnesses also if it 
 please you." 
 
 The prisoner rose also. " I did not catch his name, 
 or else I have forgotten it," he said, fixing his eyes 
 on me and motioning me to step forward; which I 
 did. His eyes — which before had seemed to me 
 shifty — were straight now and commanding, yet 
 benevolent. 
 
 " His name is Prosper ; in full, John Prosper Ca- 
 milio Paleologus. Never more than one of us bears 
 the surname of Constantine, and he not until he suc- 
 ceeds as head of our house." 
 
 " One name is enough for a king." The prisoner 
 motioned again with his hand. 
 
 49
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 '^ Kneel, boy," my father commanded, and I knelt. 
 
 " I ask you, gentlemen," said the prisoner, facing 
 them and lifting his voice, " to hear and remember 
 what I shall say; to witness and remember what I 
 shall do; and by signature to attest what I shall 
 presently write. I say, then, that I, Theodore, was 
 on the fifteenth of April, twenty years ago, by the 
 united voice of the people of Corsica, made King of 
 that island and placed in possession of its revenues 
 and chief dignities. I declare, as God may punish 
 me if I lie, that by no act of mine or of my people of 
 Corsica has that election been annulled, forfeited, or 
 invalidated; that its revenues are to-day rightfully 
 mine to receive and bequeath, as its dignities are to- 
 day rightfully mine to enjoy or abdicate to an heir 
 of my own choosing. I declare further that, failing 
 male issue of my own body, I resign herewith and ab- 
 dicate both rank and revenue in favour of this boy, 
 Prosper Paleologus, son of Constantino, and heir in 
 descent of Constantino, last Emperor of Constanti- 
 nople. I lay my hands on him in your presence and 
 bless him. In your presence I raise him and salute 
 him on both cheeks, naming him my son of choice and 
 my successor. Prosper I., King of the Commonwealth 
 of Corsica. I call on you all to attest this act with 
 your names, and all necessary writings confirming it ; 
 and I beseech you all to pray with me that he may 
 
 50
 
 I ACQUIRE A KIXGDO^^r 
 
 come to the full inheritance of his kingdom, and 
 thrive therein as he shall justly and righteously ad- 
 minister it. God save King Prosper ! " 
 
 At the conclusion of this speech, admirably deliv- 
 ered, I — standing with bent head as he had raised 
 me, and with both cheeks tingling from his salutation 
 — heard my father's voice say sonorously " Amen ! " 
 and another — I think the parson's — break into some- 
 thing like a chuckle. But my uncle must have put 
 out a hand threatening his weasand, for the sound 
 very suddenly gave place to silence; and the next 
 voice I heard was Mr. Knox's. 
 
 " May I suggest that we seat ourselves and ex- 
 amine the papers ? " said Mr. Knox. 
 
 " One moment." King Theodore stepped to the 
 cupboard and drew out a bundle in a blue-and-white 
 checked kerchief, and a smaller one in brown paper. 
 The kerchief, having been laid on the table and un- 
 wrapped, disclosed a fantastic piece of ironwork in 
 the shape of a crown, set with stones of which the pre- 
 ciousness was concealed by a plentiful layer of dust. 
 He lifted this, set it on my head for a moment, and, 
 replacing it on the table, took up the brown paper 
 parcel. 
 
 " This," said he, '' contains the Great Seal. To 
 whose keeping " — he turned to my father — " am I 
 to entrust them, Sir John ? " 
 
 51
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAXTIXE 
 
 My father nodded towards Billy Priske, who 
 stepped forward and tucked both parcels under his 
 arm, while Mr. Knox spread his papers on the table. 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 We walked back to oiir lodgings that afternoon 
 with Billy Priske behind us, bearing in his pocket 
 the Great Seal, and under his arm, in a checked ker- 
 chief, the Iron Crown of Corsica. 
 
 Two mornings later we took horse and set our 
 faces westward again ; and thus ended my brief first 
 visit to London. Billy Priske carried the sacred par- 
 cel on the saddle before him ; and my uncle, riding 
 beside him, spent no small part of the way in an ex- 
 hortation against lying in general, and particularly 
 against the sin of laying false claim to the paternity 
 of twelve children. 
 
 Now, so shaken was Billy by his one adventure in 
 London that until we had passed the tenth milestone 
 he seemed content enough to be rated. I believe that 
 as, for the remainder of his stay in London, he had 
 never strayed beyond sight, so even yet he took com- 
 fort and security from my uncle's voice ; " since " 
 (said he, quoting a Cornish proverb) " 'tis better be 
 rated by your own than mated with a stranger." 
 But, by and by, taking courage to protest that a lie 
 might on occasion be pardonable and even necessary, 
 he drew my father into the discussion. 
 
 52
 
 I ACQUIRE A KINGDOM 
 
 " This difficulty of Billy's," interposed my father, 
 " was in some sort anticipated by Plato, who in- 
 stanced that a madman with a knife in his hand 
 might inquire of you to direct him which way had 
 been taken by the victim he proposed to murder. He 
 posits it as a nice point. Should one answer truth- 
 fully, or deceive ? " 
 
 " The villain ! I should knock him down," an- 
 swered my uncle with heat. 
 
 53
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE MESSAGE OF THE SILENT MEN" 
 
 We be all poor mariners, 
 
 Pardonnez nioy, je vous en prie. — Old Song. 
 
 A HISTORY (you will say) which finds a schoolboy 
 tickling trout, and by the end of another chapter has 
 clapped a crown on his head and hailed him sovereign 
 over a people of whom he has scarcely heard and 
 knows nothing save that they are warlike and ex- 
 tremely hot-tempered, should be in a fair way to 
 move ahead briskly. Nevertheless I shall pass over 
 the first two years of the reign of King Prosper, dur- 
 ing which he stayed at school and performed nothing 
 worthy of mention ; and shall come to a summer's 
 afternoon at Oxford, close upon the end of term, 
 when Nat Fiennes and I sat together in my rooms 
 in New College — he, curled on the window-seat with 
 a book, and I stretched in an easy chair by the fire- 
 place, and deep in a news sheet. 
 
 " By the way, Nat," said I, looking up as I turned 
 the page, " where will you spend your vacation ? " 
 
 A groan answered me. 
 
 " Hullo ! " I went on, making a hasty guess at his 
 
 54
 
 MESSAGE OF THE SILENT MEN 
 
 case. " Has the little cordwainer's tall daughter 
 jilted you, as I promised she would ? " 
 
 " A curse on this age ! " swore Nat, who ever car- 
 ried his heart on his sleeve. 
 
 I began to hum : 
 
 " I loved a lass, a fair one, 
 
 As fair as e'er was seen; 
 She was indeed a rare one, 
 
 Another Sheba queen. 
 Her w^aist exceeding small, 
 
 The fives did fit her shoe; 
 But now, alas! sh' 'as left me, 
 
 Falero, lero, loo!" 
 
 " Curse the age ! " repeated Nat viciously. " If 
 these were Lancelot's days now, a man could run 
 mad in the forest and lie naked and chew sticks ; and 
 then she'd be sorry." 
 
 "In summer time to Medley 
 My love and I would go ; 
 The boatman there stood read'ly 
 My love and me to row," 
 
 sang I, and ducked my head to avoid the cushion he 
 hurled at me. '" Well, then, there's very pretty forest 
 land around my home in Cornwall, with undergrowth 
 and dropped twigs to last you till Michaelmas term. 
 So why not ride down Avith me and spend at least 
 the forepart of your madness there ? " 
 " I hate vour Cornwall." 
 
 55
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 <l >r 
 
 'Tis a poor rugged land," said I ; " but hath this 
 convenience above your own home, that it contains 
 no nymphs to which you have yet sworn passion. 
 You may meet ours with a straight brow ; and they 
 are fair, too, and unembarrassed, though I won't 
 warrant them if you run bare." 
 
 " 'Tis never I that am inconstant." 
 
 " Never, Nat ; 'tis she always and only — ' she, she, 
 and only she ' — and there have been six of her to my 
 knowledge." 
 
 " If I were a king, now " 
 
 " T'cht ! " said I (for as my best friend, and al- 
 most my sole one, he knew my story). 
 
 " If a fellow were a king now — instead of being 
 doomed to the law — oh, good Lord ! " 
 
 " You are incoherent, dear lad," said I ; " and yet 
 you tell me one thing plainly enough ; which is that 
 in place of loving this one or that one, or the cord- 
 wainer's strapping daughter, you are in love with 
 being in love." 
 
 " Well, and why not ? " he demanded. " Were I 
 a king, now", that is even what I would be — in love 
 with being in love. Were I a king, now, so deep in 
 love were I with being in love, that my messengers 
 should compass earth to fetch me the right princess. 
 Yes, and could they not reach to her, if I but heard of 
 one hidden and afar that was worth mv levins:, I 
 
 56
 
 MESSAGE OF THE SILEXT MEN 
 
 would build ships and launch them, enlist crews and 
 armies, sail all seas and challenge all wars, to win 
 her. If I were king, now, my love should dwell in 
 the fastnesses of the mountains, and I would reach 
 her; she should drive me to turn again and gather 
 the bones of the seamen I had dropi^ed overboard, and 
 I would turn and dredge the seas for them; for a 
 whim she should demand to watch me at the task, 
 and gangs of slaves should level mountains to open 
 a prospect from her window; nay, all this while she 
 should deny me sight of her, and I would embrace 
 that last hardship that in the end she might be the 
 dearer prize, a queen worthy to sit beside. Man, 
 heave your great lubberly bones out of that chair and 
 salute a poor devil whom, as you put it, a cord- 
 wainer's daughter has jilted." 
 
 " IIullo ! " cried T, who had turned from his rhap- 
 sody to con the news again, and on the instant had 
 been caught by a familiar name at the foot of the 
 page. 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 " Why," said I, reading, " it seems that you are 
 not the only such madman as you have just pro- 
 claimed yourself. Listen to this : it is headed ' Fal- 
 mouth.' 
 
 " ' A Gentleman, having read that the Methodist Preachers 
 are to pay a visit to Falmouth, Cornwall, on the 16th, 17th, 
 
 57
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 and 18th of next month; and that on the occasion of their 
 last visit certain women, their sympathisers, were set upon 
 and brutally handled by the mob; hereby announces that he 
 will be present on the IMarket Strand, Falmouth, on these 
 dates, with intent to put a stop to such behaviour, and in- 
 vites any who share his indignation to meet him there and 
 help to see fair play. The badge to be a red rose pinned in 
 the hat. 
 
 (Signed) Eugenic' 
 
 " What think you of that ? " I asked, without turn- 
 ing mj head. 
 
 " The newspaper comes from Cornwall ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " From Falmouth itself. My father sent it. . . . 
 Jove ! " I cried after a moment, " I wonder if he's 
 answerable for this ? 'T would be like his extrava- 
 gance." 
 
 " A pity but what you inherited some of it, then," 
 said Nat crossly. 
 
 " Tell you what, Nat " — I slewed about in my 
 chair — " come you down to Cornwall and we'll stick 
 each a rose in our hats and help this Master Eugenio, 
 whoever he is. I've a curiosity to discover him ; and 
 if he be my father — he has not marked the passage, 
 by the way — we'll have rare fun in smoking him and 
 tracking him unbeknown to the rendezvous. Come, 
 lad, and if I know the Falmouth mob you shall have 
 a pretty little turn-up well worth the journey." 
 
 58
 
 MESSAGE OF THE SILENT MEN 
 
 But Nat, still staring out of the window, shook his 
 head. He was in one of his perverse moods — and 
 they had been growing frequent of late — in which 
 nothing I could say or do seemed to content him ; 
 and for this I chiefly accused the cordwainer's daugh- 
 ter, who in fact was a decent, merry girl, fond of 
 strawberries, with no more notion of falling in love 
 with Nat than of running oif with her father's 
 apprentice. Whatever the cause of it, a cloud had 
 been creeping over our friendship of late. He sought 
 companions — some of them serious men — with whom 
 I could not be easy. We kept up the pretence, but 
 talked no longer with entirely open hearts. Yet I 
 loved him ; and now in a sudden urgent desire to 
 carry him off to Cornwall with me and clear up all 
 misunderstandings, I caught his arm and haled him 
 down to our college garden, which lies close within 
 the city wall ; and there, pacing the broken military 
 terrace, plied him with a dozen reasons why he should 
 come. Still he shook his head to all of them ; and 
 presently, hearing four o'clock strike, pulled up in 
 his walk and announced that he must be going — he 
 had an engagement. 
 
 " And where ? " I asked. 
 
 He confessed that it was to visit the poor prisoners 
 shut up for debt in Bocardo. 
 
 I pulled a wry mouth, remembering the dismal 
 
 59
 
 Sm JOHN COIs^STANTINE 
 
 crew in the Fleet Prison. But though, the confession 
 being forced from him, he ended wistfully and as if 
 upon a question, I did not offer to come. It seemed 
 a mighty dull way to finish a summer's afternoon. 
 Moreover, I was nettled. So I let him go and 
 watched him through the gate, thinking bitterly that 
 our friendship was sick and drooping by no fault of 
 mine. 
 
 The truth was — or so I tried to excuse him — that 
 beside his plaguy trick of falling in and out of love 
 he had an overhanging quarrel with his father, a 
 worthy man, tyrannous when crossed, who meant him 
 for the law. ISTat abhorred the law and, foreseeing 
 that the tussle must come, vexed his honest conscience 
 with the thought that while delaying to declare war 
 he was eating his father's bread. This thought, work- 
 ing upon the ferment of youth, kept him like a colt in 
 a fretful lather. He scribbled verses, but never fin- 
 ished so much as a sonnet ; he flung himself into relig- 
 ion, but chiefly (I think) to challenge and irritate his 
 undevout friends ; and he would drop any occupation 
 to rail at me and what he was pleased to call my 
 phlegm. 
 
 He had some reason, too, though at the time I 
 could not discover it. ISTow, looking back, I can see 
 into what a stagnant calm I had run. My boyhood 
 should have been over; in body I had shot up to a 
 
 60
 
 MESSAGE OF THE SILENT MEN 
 
 great awkward height; but for the while the man 
 within me drowsed and himg fire. I lived in the 
 passing day and was content with it. Nat's gusts of 
 passion amused me, and why a man should want to 
 write verses or fall in love was a mystery at which 
 I arrived no nearer than to laugh. For this (strange 
 as it may sound) I believe the visit to London was 
 partly to blame. Nothing had come of it, except that 
 the unhappy King Theodore had gained his release 
 and improved upon it by dying a few weeks later, in 
 wretched lodgings in Soho, where, at my father's ex- 
 pense, the church of St. Anne's now bore a mural 
 tablet to his memory with an epitaph obligingly con- 
 tributed by the Hon. Horace Walpole, since Earl of 
 Orford. 
 
 Near this place is interred 
 
 THEODORE KING OF CORSICA 
 
 who died in this parish 
 
 Dec. 11, 1756 
 
 immediately after leaving 
 
 The King;'s Bench Prison 
 
 by the benefit of the Act of Insolvency 
 
 in consequence of which 
 he registered his kingdom of Corsica 
 for the use of his creditors. 
 
 The grave, great teacher, to a level brings 
 Heroes and beggars, galley slaves and kings; 
 But Theodore this moral learned ere dead : 
 
 01
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 Fate poured his lesson on his living head, 
 Bestow 'd a kingdom, and denied him bread. 
 
 My father, Avho copied this out for me, had an- 
 nounced in few words poor Theodore's fate, but with- 
 out particular allusion to our adventure, which, as 
 he made no movement to follow it up, or none that 
 he confided, I came in time to regard humorously a3 
 an escapade of his, a holiday frolic, a piece of mid- 
 summer madness. The serious part was that he had 
 undoubtedly paid away large sums of money, and for 
 two years my uncle Gervase had worn a distracted 
 air which I set down to the family accounts. By 
 degrees I came to conclude, with the rest of the world, 
 that my father's brain was more than a little cracked, 
 and sounded my uncle privately about this — deli- 
 cately as I thought ; but he met me with a fierce un- 
 expected heat. " Your father," said he, " is the best 
 man in the world, and I bid you wait to understand 
 him better, taking my word that he has great designs 
 for you." Sure enough, too, my father seemed to 
 hint at this in the tenor of his conversation with me, 
 which was ever of high politics and the government 
 of states, or on some point which could be stretched 
 to bear on these ; but of any immediate design he for- 
 bore — as it seemed, carefully — to speak. Thus I 
 found myself at pause and let my youth wait upon 
 his decision. 
 
 62
 
 MESSAGE OF THE SILENT MEX 
 
 Yet I had sense enough to feel less than satisfied 
 with myself, albeit sorer with Nat as I watched the 
 dear lad go from me across the turf and out at the 
 garden gate. Nor will I swear that my eyes did not 
 smart a little. I was but a boy, and I had set my 
 heart on our travelling down to Cornwall together. 
 
 To Cornwall I rode down alone, a week later, and 
 fell to work to idle my vacation away ; fishing a little, 
 but oftener sailing my boat — sometimes alone, some- 
 times with Billy Priske for company. Billy — whose 
 duties as butler were what he called a sine qua non, 
 pronounced as " shiny Canaan " and meaning a sine- 
 cure — had spent some part of term time in netting 
 me a trammel, of which he was inordinately proud, 
 and with this we amused ourselves, sailing or rowing 
 do\vn to the river's mouth every evening at nightfall 
 to set it, and, again, soon after daybreak, to haul it, 
 and usually returning with good store of fish for 
 breakfast — soles, dories, plaice, and the red mullet 
 for which Helford is famous over all streams. 
 
 Now, during these lazy weeks I had not forgotten 
 Eugenie's advertisement, which, on returning to my 
 rooms that evening after Nat's rebuff, I had clipped 
 from the newspaper and since kept in my pocket. 
 For the fun of it and to find out who this Eugenio 
 might be — I had given over suspecting my father — 
 my mind was made up to ride over to Falmouth on
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 the 16th of July; but whether with or without a rose 
 in my hat I had not determined. Therefore on the 
 morning of the 15th, when Billy, after hauling the 
 trammel, began to lay our plans for the morrow, I 
 cut him short, telling him that to-morrow I should 
 not fish. 
 
 " WTiat's matter with 'ee to-all ? " he asked, smash- 
 ing a spider-crab and picking it out piecemeal from 
 the net. " Pretty fair catch to-day, id'n-a ? spite of 
 all the weed; an' no harm done by these varmints 
 that a man can't put to rights afore evenin'." 
 
 I took the paddles without answering and pulled 
 towards the river's mouth, while he sat and smoked 
 his pipe over the business of clearing the net of weed, 
 which for some days had been troublesome. Around 
 his feet on the bottom boards lay our morning's catch 
 — half a dozen soles and twice the number of plaice, 
 a brace of edible crabs, six or seven red mullet, be- 
 sides a number of gurnard and wrass worth no man's 
 eating, an ugly-looking monkfish, and a bream of 
 wonderful rainbow hues. A silvery fog lay over the 
 sea, so dense that in places we could see but a bare 
 score of yards; but over it the tops of the tall cliffs 
 stood out clear, and the sun was mounting. A faint 
 breeze blew from the southward. All promised a hot, 
 still day. 
 
 The tide was making, too, and with wind and tide 
 
 64
 
 MESSAGE OF THE SILENT MEX 
 
 to help I pulled over the river bar and, within it, 
 towards the creek where daily, after hauling the 
 trammel, I bathed from the boat ; a delectable corner 
 in the eye of the morning sunshine, paved fathoms 
 deep with round, white pebbles, one of which, from 
 the gunwale, I selected to dive for. 
 
 The sun broke through the sea-fog around us while 
 I stripped ; it shone, as I balanced myself for the 
 plunge, on the broad wings of a heron flapping out 
 from the wood's blue shadow; it shone on the scales 
 of the fish struggling and gasping under the thwarts. 
 Divine the river was, divine the morning, divine the 
 moment — the last of my boyhood. 
 
 Souse I plunged and deep, with wide-open eyes, 
 chose out and grasped my pebble, and rose to the sur- 
 face, holding it high as though it had been a gem. 
 The sound of the splash was in my ears and the echo 
 of my own laugh, but with it there mingled a cry 
 from Billy Priske, and, shaking the water out of my 
 eyes, I saw him erect in the stern-sheets and astare 
 at a vision parting the fog — the vision of a tall fore- 
 and-aft sail, golden-grey against the sunlight, and 
 above the sail a foot or two of a stout pole-mast, and 
 above the mast a gilded truck and weather-vane with 
 a tail of scarlet bunting. So closely the fog hung 
 about her that for a second I took her to be a cutter ; 
 and then a second sail crept through the curtain, and 
 
 05
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 I recognised her for the Gauntlet ketch, Port of Fal- 
 mouth, Captain Jo Pomery, returned from six 
 months' foreign. I announced her to Billy with a 
 shout. 
 
 " As if a man eouldn' tell that ! " answered Billy, 
 removing his cap and rubbing the back of his head. 
 " AVhat brings her in here, that's what I'm askin' ? " 
 
 " Belike," said I, scrambling over the gunwale, 
 " the man has lost his bearings in this fog, and mis- 
 takes Helford for Falmouth entrance." 
 
 " Lost his bearin's ! Jo Pomery lost his bear- 
 in's ! " Billy regarded me between pity and re- 
 proach. " And him sailing her in from Blackhead 
 close round the Manacles, in half a capful o' wind an' 
 the tides lookin' fifty ways for Sunday ! That's what 
 he've a-done, for the weather lifted while we was 
 hauling trammel — anyways east of south a man could 
 see clear for three mile and more, an' not a vessel in 
 sight there. There's maybe three men in the world 
 besides Jo Pomery could ha' done it — the Lord 
 knows how, unless 'tis by sense o' smell. And he've 
 a-lost his bearin's, says you ! " 
 
 " Well, then," I ventured, " perhaps he has a fancy 
 to land part of his cargo duty free." 
 
 " That's likelier," Billy assented. " I don't say 
 'tis the truth, mind you, for if 'tis truth, why should 
 the man choose to fetch land by daylight ? Fog ? A 
 
 GG
 
 MESSx\GE OF THE SILENT MEX 
 
 man like Jo Pomerj isn' one to mistake a little pride- 
 o'-the-mornin' for proper thick weather — the more by 
 token it's been liftin' this hour and more. But 'tis a 
 likelier guess anyway, the Gauntlet being from for- 
 eign. Lost his bearin's, says you, and come, as you 
 might say, slap through the Manacles; an' by acci- 
 dent, as you might say ! Providence has a broad 
 back, my son, but be careful how you dance 'pon it." 
 
 '^ Where does she come from ? " I asked. 
 
 " Mediterranean ; that's all I know. Four months 
 and more she must ha' took on this trip. Iss ; sailed 
 out o' Falmouth back-along in the tail-end o' Febru- 
 ary, and her cargo muskets and other combustibles." 
 
 " Muskets ? " 
 
 " Muskets ; and you may leave askin' me who 
 wants muskets out there, for in the first place I don't 
 know, an' a still tongue makes a wise head." 
 
 I had slipped on shirt and breeches. " We'll give 
 him a hail, an^^way," said T, " and if there's sport 
 on hand he may happen to let us join it." The ketch 
 by this time was pushing her nose past the spit of 
 rock hiding our creek from seaward. As she came 
 by with both large sails boomed out to starboard and 
 sheets alternately sagging loose and tautening with 
 a jerk, I caught sight of two of her crew in the bows, 
 the one looking: on while the other verv deliberatelv 
 imlashed the anchor, and aft by the wheel a third 
 
 67
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 man, whom I made out to be Captain Pomery him- 
 self. 
 
 " Gauntlet ahoy ! " I shouted, standing on the 
 thwart and making a trumpet of my hands. 
 
 Captain Pomery turned, cast a glance towards us 
 over his left shoulder, and lifted a hand. A moment 
 later he called an order forward, and the two men 
 left the anchor and ran to haul in sheets. Here was 
 a plain invitation to pull alongside. I seized a pad- 
 dle, and was working the boat's nose round, to pur- 
 sue, when another figure showed above the Gauntlet's 
 bulwarks: a tall figure in an orange-russet garment 
 like a dressing-gown ; a monk, to all appearance, for 
 the sun played on his tonsured scalp as he leaned for- 
 ward and watched our approach. 
 
 68
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE SILENT MEN 
 
 Seamen, seamen, whence come ye? 
 Pardonnez rnoy, jc vous en prie. — Old Song. 
 
 A MONK he was too. A second and third look over 
 my shoulder left me no doubt of it. He gravely 
 handed us a rope as we overtook the ketch and ran 
 alongside, and as gravely bowed when I leapt upon 
 deck ; but he gave us no other Avelcome. 
 
 His russet gown reached almost to his feet, which 
 were bare ; and he stood amid the strangest litter of a 
 deck-cargo, consisting mainly — or so at first glance 
 it seemed to me — of pot-plants and rude agi-icultural 
 implements: spades, flails, forks, mattocks, picks, 
 hoes, dibbles, rakes, lashed in bundles; sieves, buck- 
 ets, kegs, bins, milk-pails, seed-hods, troughs, man- 
 gers, a wired dovecote, and a score of hen-coops filled 
 with poultry. Forward of the mainmast stood a cart 
 with shafts, upright and lashed to the mast, that the 
 headsails might work clear. The space between the 
 masts was occupied by enormous open hatcliways 
 through which came the lowing of oxen, and 
 
 69
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 through these, peering down into the hold, I saw 
 the backs of cattle and horses moving in its gloom, 
 and the bodies of men stretched in the straw at their 
 feet. 
 
 So much of the Gauntlet's hugger-mugger I man- 
 aged to discern before Captain Pomery left the helm 
 and hurried forward to give us welcome on board. 
 
 " Mornin', Squire Prosper ! Mornin', Billy ! 
 You know me, sir — Cap'n Jo Pomery — which is 
 short for Job, and 'tis the luckiest chance, sir, you 
 hailed me, for you'm nearabouts the first man I 
 wanted to see. Faith, now, and I wonder how your 
 father (God bless him) will take it ? " 
 
 " Why, what's the matter ? " asked I, with a glance 
 at the monk, who had drawn back a pace and stood, 
 still silent, fingering his rosary. 
 
 " The matter ? Good Lord ! isn't this matter 
 enough ? " Captain Jo waved an arm to include all 
 the deck-cargo. " See them pot-plants, there, and 
 what they'm teeled ^ in ? " 
 
 " Drinking-troughs ? " said I. " Or . . . is it 
 coffins ? " 
 
 " Coffins it is. I'd feel easier in mind if you could 
 tell me what your father (God bless him) will say 
 to it." 
 
 " But what has all this to do with my father ? 
 
 1 Tilled. 
 70 
 
 5>
 
 THE SILENT MEX 
 
 I demanded, and, seeking Billy's eyes, found them as 
 frankly full of amaze as my own. 
 
 " Not but what," continued Captain Jo, " they've 
 behaved well, though dog-sick to a man from the time 
 we left port. Look at 'em ! " — he caught me by the 
 arm and, drawing me to the hatchway, pointed down 
 to the hold. '" A round score and eight, and all well 
 paid for as passengers ; but for the return journey I 
 won't answer. It depends on your father, and that " 
 — with a jerk of his thumb towards the tall monk — 
 " I stippilated when I shipped 'em. ' Never you 
 mind,' was the answer I got ; ' take 'em to England 
 to Sir John Constantino.' And here they be ! " 
 
 " But who on earth are they ? " I cried, staring 
 down into the gloom, where presently I made out that 
 the men stretched in the straw at the horses' feet were 
 monks all, and habited like the monk on the deck 
 behind me. To him next I turned, to find his eyes, 
 which were dark and quick, searching me curiously; 
 and as I turned he made a step forward, put out a 
 hand as if to touch me on the shirt-sleeve, and anon 
 drew it back timidly, yet still continued to regard me. 
 
 " You are a son, signor, of Sir John Constan- 
 tine ? " he asked, in soft Italian. 
 
 " I am his only son, sir," I ansv.-ered him in the 
 same language. 
 
 " Ah ! You speak my tongue ? " A gleam of joy 
 
 71
 
 Sm JOH]\'^ CONSTANTIXE 
 
 passed over his grave features. " And you are his 
 son ? So — I should have guessed it at once, for you 
 bear great likeness to him." 
 
 " You know my father, sir ? " 
 
 " Years ago." His hands, which he used expres- 
 sively, seemed to grope in a far past. " I come to 
 him also from one who knew him years ago." 
 
 "Upon what business, sir? if I am allowed to 
 ask." 
 
 " I bring a message." He pointed to his breast. 
 
 " You bring a tolerably full one, then," said T, 
 glancing first at the disorder on deck and from that 
 down to the recumbent figures in the hold. 
 
 " I speak for them," he went on, having followed 
 the glance. " It is most necessary that they keep 
 silence ; but I speak for all." 
 
 " Then, sir, as it seems to me, you have much to 
 say." 
 
 " No," he answered slowly ; " very little, I think ; 
 very little, as you will see." 
 
 Here Captain Jo interrupted us. He had stepped 
 back to steady the wheel, but I fancy that the word 
 silenzio must have reached him, and that, small Ital- 
 ian though he knew, with this particular word the 
 voyage had made him bitterly acquainted. 
 
 " Dumb ! " he shouted. " Dumb as gutted had- 
 docks!" 
 
 72
 
 THE SILENT MEN 
 
 " Dumb ? " I echoed, while the two seamen for- 
 ward heard and laughed. 
 
 " It is their vow," said the monk gravely, and 
 seemed on the point to say more. 
 
 But at this moment Captain Pomery sang out 
 " Gybe-o ! " At the warning we ducked our heads 
 together as the boom swung over and the Gauntlet, 
 heeling gently for a moment, rounded the river-bend 
 in view of the great house of Constantine, set high 
 and gazing over the folded woods. A house more 
 magnificently placed, with forest, park, and great 
 stone terraces rising in successive tiers from the 
 water's edge, I do not believe our England in those 
 days could show; and it deserved its site, being 
 amply classical in design, with a facade that, discard- 
 ing mere ornament, expressed its proportion and 
 symmetry in bold straight lines, prolonged by the 
 terraces on which tall rows of pointed yews stood sen- 
 tinel. Right English though it was, it bore (as my 
 father used to say of our best English poetry) the 
 stamp of great Italian descent, and I saw the monk 
 give a start as he lifted his eyes to it. 
 
 " We have not these creeks of water in Italy," said 
 he, " nor these woods, nor these green lawns ; and 
 yet, if those trees, aloft there, were but cypresses — " 
 He broke oflF. " Our voyage has a good ending," he 
 added, half to himself. 
 
 73
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 The Gauntlet being in ballast and the tide high, 
 Captain Pomerj fonnd plenty of water in the wind- 
 ing channel, every curve of which he knew to a hair, 
 and steered for at its due moment, winking cheerfully 
 at Billy and me, who stood ready to correct his pilot- 
 age. 7Te had taken in his mainsail, and carried steer- 
 age way with mizzen and jib only ; and thus, for close 
 upon a mile, we rode up on the tide, scaring the 
 herons and curlews before us, until drawing within 
 sight of a grass-grown quay he let run down his re- 
 maining canvas and laid the ketch alongside, so 
 gently that one of the seamen, who had cast a stout 
 fender overside, stepped ashore, and with a slow pull 
 on her main rigging checked and brought her to a 
 standstill. 
 
 " Aut Lacedcemonium Tarentum," said the monk 
 at my shoulder quietly ; and, as I stared at him, " Ah, 
 to be sure, this is your Tarentum, is it not ? Yet the 
 words came to me for the sound's sake only and their 
 falling close. Our voyage has even such a gentle 
 ending." 
 
 " I had best run on," I suggested, " and warn my 
 father of your coming." 
 
 " It is not necessary." 
 
 " But still," I urged, " they can be preparing 
 breakfast for you, up at the house, while you and 
 your friends are making ready to come ashore." 
 
 74
 
 THE SILENT MEN 
 
 " We have broken our fast," he answered ; " and 
 we are quite ready, if you will be so good as to 
 guide us." 
 
 He stepped to the hatchways and called down, an- 
 nouncing simply that the voyage was ended : and in 
 the dusk there I saw monk after monk upheave him- 
 self from the straw and come clambering up the lad- 
 der ; tall monks and short, old monks and young and 
 middle-aged, lean monks and thickset — but the most 
 of them cadaverous, and all of them yellow with sea- 
 sickness ; twenty-eight monks, all barefoot, all tol- 
 erably dirty, and all blinking in the fresh sunshine. 
 When they were gathered, at a sign from one of 
 them — by dress not distinguishable from his fellows 
 — all knelt and gave silent thanks for the voyage 
 accomplished. 
 
 I could see that Billy Priske was frightened : for 
 arising they rolled their eyes about them like wild 
 animals turned loose in an unfamiliar country, and 
 the whites of their eyes were yellow (so to speak) 
 with seafaring, and their pupils glassy with fever 
 and from the sea's glare. But their spokesman 
 touched my arm and motioned me to lead ; and, when 
 I obeyed, one by one the whole troop fell into line 
 and followed at his feels. 
 
 Thus we went — T leading, with him and the rest 
 in single file after me — up by the footpath through 
 
 75
 
 SIR JOim COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 the woods, and forth into sunshine again upon the 
 green, dewy bracken of the deer-park. Here my com- 
 panion spoke for the first time since disembarking. 
 
 " Your father, sir," said he, looking about him and 
 seeming to sniff the morning air, " must be a very 
 rich signer." 
 
 " On the contrary," I answered, " I have some 
 reason to believe him a poor man." 
 
 He stared down for a moment at his bare feet, wet 
 with the grasses. " Ah ? Well, it will make no dif- 
 ference," he said ; and we resumed our way. 
 
 As we climbed the last slope under the terraces of 
 the house, I caught sight of my father leaning by a 
 balustrade high above us, at the head of a double 
 flight of broad stone steps, and splicing the top joint 
 of a trout-rod he had broken the day before. He 
 must have caught sight of us almost at the moment 
 when we emerged from the woods. 
 
 He showed no surprise at all. Only as I led my 
 guests up the steps he set down his work and, raising 
 a hand, bent to them in a very courteous welcome. 
 
 " Good morning, lad ! And good morning to those 
 you bring, whencesoever they come." 
 
 " They come, sir," I answered, " in Jo Pomery's 
 ketch Gauntlet; I believe from Italy; and I believe 
 with a message for you." 
 
 My father lifted his gaze from me and bent it on 
 
 76
 
 THE SILENT MEN 
 
 the spokesman at my elbow. His eyebrows lifted 
 with surprise and sudden pleasure. 
 
 " Hey ? " he exclaimed. " Is it my old friend " 
 
 But the other, before his name could be uttered, 
 lifted a hand. " My name is the Brother Basilio 
 now, Sir John: no other am I permitted to re- 
 member. The peace of God be with you and upon 
 your house ! " 
 
 " And with you, Brother Basilio, since you will 
 have it so : and with all your company ! You bear a 
 message for me ? But first you must break your 
 fast." He turned to lead the way to the house. 
 
 " We have eaten already. Sir John. As soon as 
 your leisure serves, we would deliver our message." 
 
 My father called to Billy Priske — who hung in the 
 rear of the monks — bidding him fetch my uncle Ger- 
 vase in from the stables to the State Room, and so, 
 without another word, motioned to his visitors to fol- 
 low. To this day I can hear the shuffle of their bare 
 feet on the steps and slabs of the terrace as they hur- 
 ried after him to keep up with his long strides. 
 
 In the great entrance-hall he paused to lift a bunch 
 of rusty keys off their hook, and, choosing the largest, 
 unlocked the door of the State Room. The lock had 
 been kept well oiled, for Billy Priske entered it twice 
 daily ; in the morning, to open a window or two, and 
 at sunset, to close them. But it is a fact that I had 
 
 77
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 not crossed its threshold a score of times in my life, 
 though I ran by it, maybe, as many times a day ; nor 
 (as I believe) had my father entered it for years. 
 Yet it was the noblest room in the house, in length 
 seventy-five feet, panelled high in dark oak and cedar 
 and adorned around each panel with carvings of 
 Grinling Gibbons — festoons and crowns and cherub- 
 faces and intricate baskets of flowers. Each panel 
 held a portrait, and over every panel, in faded gilt 
 against the morning sun, shone an imperial crown. 
 The windows were draped with hangings of rotten 
 velvet. At the far end on a dais stood a porphyry 
 table, and behind it, facing down the room, a single 
 chair, or throne, also of porphyry and rudely carved. 
 For the rest the room held nothing but dust — dust so 
 thick that our visitors' naked feet left imprints upon 
 it as they huddled after their leader to the dais, 
 where my father took his seat, after beckoning me 
 forward to stand on his right. 
 
 But of all bewildered faces there was never a 
 blanker, I believe, since the world began than my 
 uncle Gervase's ; who now appeared in the doorway, 
 a bucket in his hand, straight from the stables where 
 he had been giving my father's roan horse a drench. 
 Billy's summons must have hurried him, for he had 
 not even waited to turn down his shirt-sleeves: but 
 as plainly it had given him no sort of notion why he 
 
 T8
 
 THE SILENT MEN 
 
 •was wanted and in the State Room. I guessed indeed 
 that on his way he had caught up the bucket sup- 
 posing that the house was afire. At sight of the 
 monks he set it down slowly, gently, staring at them 
 the while, and seemed in act of inverting it to sit 
 upon, when my father addressed him from the dais 
 over the shaven heads of the audience. 
 
 " Brother, I am sorry to have disturbed you : but 
 here is a business in which I may need your counsel. 
 Will it please you to step this way ? These guests of 
 ours, I should first explain, have arrived from over 
 seas." 
 
 My uncle came forward, still like a man in a 
 dream, mounted the dais on my father's left and, 
 turnine:, surveved the visitors in front. 
 
 " Eh ? To be sure, to be sure," he murmured. 
 Broomsticks ? " 
 
 " Their spokesman here, who gives his name as the 
 Brother Basilio, l)ears a message for me ; and since 
 he presents it in form with a whole legation at his 
 back, I think it due to treat him with equal ceremony. 
 Do you agree ? " 
 
 " If you ask me," my uncle answered after a pause 
 full of thought, " they would prefer to start, maybe, 
 with a wash and a breakfast. By good luck, Billy 
 tells me, the trammel has made a good haul. As for 
 basins, brother, our stock will not serve all these gen- 
 
 79
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAXTIXE 
 
 tlemen : but if the rest will take the will for the deed 
 and use the pump I'll go round meanwhile and see 
 how the hens have been laying." 
 
 " You are the most practical of men, brother : but 
 my offer of breakfast has already been declined. 
 Shall we hear what Dom Basilio has to say ? " 
 
 " I have nothing to say, Sir John," put in Brother 
 Basilio, advancing, " but to give you this letter and 
 await your answer." 
 
 He drew a folded paper from his tunic and handed 
 it to my father, who rose to receive it, turned it over, 
 and glanced at the superscription. I saw a red flush 
 creep slowly up to his temples and fade, leaving his 
 face extraordinarily pale. A moment later, in face 
 of his audience, he lifted the paper to his lips, kissed 
 it reverently, and broke the seal. 
 
 Again I saw the flush mount to his temples as he 
 read the letter through slowly and in silence. Then 
 after a long pause he handed it to me ; and I took it 
 wondering, for his eyes were dim and yet bright with 
 a noble joy. 
 
 The letter (turned into English) ran thus: 
 
 To Sir John Constantiiie, Knight of the Most Noble Order 
 of the Star, at his house of Constantine in Cornwall, 
 England. 
 
 My Friend, — The bearer of this and his company have 
 been driven by the Genoese from their monastery of San Gior- 
 
 80
 
 THE SILEXT MEN 
 
 gio on my estate of Casalabriva above the Taravo valley, 
 the same where you will remember our treading the vintage 
 together to the freedom of Corsica. But the Genoese have 
 cut down my vines long since, and now they have fired the 
 roof over these my tenants and driven them into the macchia, 
 whence they send message to me to deliver them. Indeed, 
 friend, I have much ado to protect myself in these days : but 
 by good fortune I have heard of an English vessel homeward 
 bound which will serve them if they can reach the coast, when 
 numbers of the faithful will send them off with good provision. 
 Afterwards, what will happen? To England the ship is 
 bound, and in England I know you only. Remembering 
 your great heart, I call on it for what help you can render to 
 these holy men. Addio, friend. You are remembered in my 
 constant prayers to Christ, the Virgin, and all the Saints. 
 
 Emilia. 
 
 At a sign from my father — who had sunk back in 
 his chair and sat gripping its arms — I passed on this 
 epistle to my uncle Gervase, who read it and ran his 
 hand through his hair. 
 
 " Dear me ! " said he, running his eye over the 
 attentive monks, " this lady, whoever she may 
 be " 
 
 " She is a crowned queen, brother Gervase," my 
 father interrupted ; " and moreover she is the noblest' 
 woman in the world." 
 
 " As to that, brother," returned my uncle, " I am 
 saying nothing. But speaking of what I know, I 
 say she can be but poorly conversant with your 
 worldly aifairs." 
 
 81
 
 SIR JOnX CO^^STAA^TIXE 
 
 Mv father half-lifted himself from his seat. 
 " And is that how voii take it ? " he demanded 
 sharply. " Is that all you read in the letter ? 
 Brother, I tell you again, this lady is a queen. 
 What should a queen know of my degree of pov- 
 erty ? " 
 
 " Nevertheless — " began my uncle. 
 
 But my father cut him short again. " I had 
 hoped," said he reproachfully, " you would have 
 been prompt to recognise her noble confidence. Mark 
 you how, no question put, she honours me. * Do this, 
 for my sake ' — Who but the greatest in this world 
 can appeal thus simply ? " 
 
 " None, maybe," my uncle replied ; " as none but 
 the well-to-do can answer with a like ease." 
 
 " You come near to anger me, brother ; but I re- 
 member that you never knew her. Is not this house 
 large ? Are not four-fifths of my rooms lying at this 
 moment untenanted ? Very well : for so long as it 
 pleases them, since she claims it, these holy men shall 
 be our guests. No more of this," my father com- 
 manded peremptorily, and added with all the gravity 
 in the world, " You should thank her consideration 
 rather, that she sends us visitors so frugal, since pov- 
 erty degrades us to these economies. But there is 
 one thing puzzles me," he went on, taking the 
 letter again from my uncle and fastening his gaze 
 
 82
 
 THE SILENT MEX 
 
 on the Brother Basilio. " She says she has much ado 
 to protect herself." 
 
 " Indeed, Sir John," answered Brother Basilio, " I 
 fear the queen, our late liege-lady, writes somewhat 
 less than the truth. She wrote to you from a poor 
 lodging hard by Bastia, having ventured back to Cor- 
 sica out of Tuscany on business of her own; and on 
 the eve of sailing we heard that she had been taken 
 prisoner by the Genoese." 
 
 " What ! " My father rose, clutching the arms of 
 his chair. Of stone they were, like the chair itself, 
 and well mortised : but his great grip wrenched them 
 out of their mortises and they crashed on the dais. 
 " What ! You left her a prisoner of the Genoese ! " 
 He gazed around them in a wrath that slowly grew 
 cold, freezing into contempt. " Go, sirs ; since she 
 commands it, room shall be found for you all. My 
 house for the while is yours. But go from me now." 
 
 83
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 HOW MY FATHER OUT OF NOTHING BUILT AN ARMY, 
 AND IN FIVE MINUTES PLANNED AN INVASION 
 
 Walled Townes, stored Arcenalls and Armouries, Goodly Races 
 of Horse, Chariots of Warre, Elephants, Ordnance, Artillery, and 
 the like: All this is but a Sheep in a I-ion's Skin, except the Breed 
 and disposition be stout and warlike. Nay, Number it selfe in 
 Armies importeth not much where the People is of weake courage: 
 For (as Virgil saith) It never troubles a Wolfe, how many the 
 sheepe be. — Bacon. 
 
 For the rest of the day my father shut himself in 
 his room, while my uncle spent the most of it seated 
 on the hrewhouse steps in a shaded corner of the 
 back court, through which the monks brought in their 
 furniture and returned to the ship for more. The 
 bundles they carried were prodigious, and all the 
 morning they worked without halt or rest, ascending 
 and descending the hill in single file and always at 
 equal distances one behind another. Watching from 
 the terrace down the slope of the park as they came 
 and went, you might have taken them for a company 
 of ants moving camp. But my uncle never wholly 
 recovered from the shock of his first fright, to see 
 man by man cross the court with a stout coffin on his 
 
 84
 
 AN ARMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 back and above each coffin a pack of straw: nor was 
 he content with Fra Basilio's explanation that the 
 brethren slept in these coffins by rule and saved the 
 expense of beds. 
 
 " For my part," said my imcle, " considering the 
 numbers that manage it, I should have thought death 
 no such dexterity as to need practice," 
 
 " Yet bethink you, sir, of St. Paul's words. ' I 
 protest,' said he, ' I die daily.' " 
 
 " Why, yes, sir, and so do we all," agreed my uncle, 
 and fell silent, on the very point, as it seemed, of 
 continuing the argument. " I did not choose to be 
 discourteous, lad," he explained to me later : " but 
 I had a mind to tell him that we do daily a score of 
 things we don't brag about — of which I might have 
 added that washing is one : and I believe 'twould have 
 been news to him." 
 
 I had never knoAvn my uncle in so rough a temper. 
 Poor man ! I believe that all the time he sat there on 
 the brewhouse steps, he was calculating woefully the 
 cost of these visitors ; and it hurt him the worse be- 
 cause he had a native disposition to be hospitable. 
 
 '' But who is this lady that signs herself Emilia ? " 
 I asked. 
 
 " A crowned queen, lad, and the noblest lady in the 
 world — you heard your father say it. This evening 
 he may choose to tell us some further particulars." 
 
 85
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " Why this evening ? " I asked, and then suddenly 
 remembered that to-day was the 15th of Jnly and St. 
 Swithin's feast; that my father wonld not fail to 
 drink wine after dinner in the little temple below the 
 deer-park ; and that he had promised to admit me 
 to-night to make the fourth in St. Swithin's brother- 
 hood. 
 
 He appeared at dinner time, punctual and dressed 
 with more than his usual care (I noted that he wore 
 his finest lace ruffles) ; and before going in to dinner 
 we were joined by the Vicar, much perturbed — as his 
 manner showed — by the news of a sudden descent of 
 papists upon his parish. Indeed the good man so 
 bubbled with it that we had scarcely taken our seats 
 before the stream of questions overflowed. " Who 
 were these men ? " " How many ? " " Whence had 
 they come, and why ? " etc. 
 
 I glanced at my father in some anxiety for his 
 temper. But he laughed and carved the salmon com- 
 posedly. He had a deep and tolerant affection for 
 Mr. Grylls. "Where shall I begin?" said he. 
 " They are, I believe, between twenty and thirty in 
 number, though I took no care to count ; and they 
 belong to the Trappistine Order, to which I have ever 
 been attracted ; first, because I count it admirable to 
 renounce all for a faith, however frantic, and sec- 
 ondly for the memory of Bouthillier de Ranee, who 
 
 86
 
 AN ARMY AXD AX INVASION 
 
 a hundred years ago revived the order after five hun- 
 dred years of desuetude." 
 
 " And who was he ? " inquired the Vicar. 
 " He was a young rake in Paris, tonsured for the 
 sake of the family benefices, who had for mistress no 
 less a lady than the Duchess de Rohan-Montbazon. 
 One day, returning from the country after a week's 
 absence and letting himself into the house by a pri- 
 vate key, he rushed upstairs in a lover's haste, burst 
 open the door, and found himself in a chamber hung 
 with black and lit with many candles. His mistress 
 had died, the day before, of a putrid fever. But — • 
 worse than this and most horrible — the servants tad 
 ordered the coffin in haste; and, when delivered, it 
 was found to be too short. Upon which, to have done 
 with her, in their terror of infection, they had lopped 
 off the head, which lay pitiably dissevered from the 
 trunk. For three years after the young man travelled 
 as one mad, but at length found solace in his neg- 
 lected abbacy of Soligny-la-Trappe, and in reviving 
 its extreme Cistercian rigours." 
 
 " I had supposed the Trappists to be a French 
 order in origin, and confined to France," said the 
 Vicar. 
 
 " They have offshoots: of which I knew but one in 
 Italv. that settled some fiftv vears back in a monas- 
 tery they call Buon-Solazzo, outside Florence, at the 
 
 ST
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 invitation of the Grand Duke of Tiiscanv. But I 
 have been making question of our guests through 
 Dom Basilio, their guest-master and abbot de facto 
 (since their late abbot, an old man whom he calls 
 Dom Polifilo^ died of exposure on the mountains 
 some three days before they embarked) ; and it ap- 
 pears that they belong to a second colony, which has 
 made its home for these ten vears at Casalabriva in 
 Corsica, having arrived by invitation of the Queen 
 Emilia of that island, and there abiding until the 
 Genoese burned the roof over their heads." 
 
 The Vicar sipped his wine. 
 
 " You have considered/' he asked, " the peril 
 of introducing so many papists into our quiet 
 parish ? " 
 
 " I have not considered it for a moment," answered 
 my father cheerfully. " Nor have I introduced them. 
 But if you fear they'll convert — pervert — subvert — 
 invert your parishioners and turn 'em into papists, 
 I can reassure you. For in the first place thirty men, 
 or thirty thousand, of whom only one can open his 
 mouth, are, for proselytising, equal to one man and 
 no more." 
 
 " They can teach by their example if not by their 
 precept," urged the Vicar. 
 
 " Their example is to sleep in their coffins. My 
 good sir, if you will not trust your English doctrine 
 
 88
 
 AX AiniV AXD AN IXVASIOX 
 
 to its own truth, yoii might at least rely on the per- 
 suasiveness of its comfort. Nay, pardon me, my 
 friend," he went on, as the Vicar's either cheekbone 
 showed a red flush, " I did not mean to speak offen- 
 sively ; but Englishman as I am, in matters of relig- 
 ion my coimtrymen are ever a puzzle to me. At a 
 great price you won your freedom from the Bishop of 
 Rome and hi.s dictation. I admire the price and I 
 love liberty; yet liberty has its drawbacks, as you 
 have for a long while been discovering ; of which the 
 first is that every man with maggot in his head can 
 claim a like liberty with yourselves, quoting your 
 own words in support of it. Let me remind you of 
 that passage in which Rabelais — borrowing, I believe, 
 from Lucian — brings the good Pantagruel and his 
 fellow-voyagers to a port which he calls the Port of 
 Lanterns. ' Then (says he) upon a tall tower Panta- 
 gruel recognised the Lantern of La Rochelle, which 
 gave us an excellent, clear light. Also we saw the 
 Lanterns of Pharos, of Xauplia, and of the Acropolis 
 of Athens, sacred to Pallas,' and so on; whence 1 
 draw the moral that coast-lights are good, yet, multi- 
 plied, they complicate navigation." 
 
 " — and apply your moral by erecting yet an- 
 other!" 
 
 " Fairly retorted. Yet how can you object without 
 turning the sword of Liberty against herself ? Have 
 
 89
 
 Sm JOHN COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 you never heard tell, by the way, of Captain Byng's 
 midshipman ? " 
 
 " Who was he ? " 
 
 " I forget his name, but he started his first night 
 aboard ship by kneeling down and saying his prayers, 
 as his mother had taught him." 
 
 " I commend the boy," said my uncle. 
 
 " I also commend him : but the crowd of his fellow- 
 midshipmen found it against the custom of the ser- 
 vice and gave him the strap for it. This, however, 
 raised him up a champion in one of the taller lads, 
 who protested that their conduct was tyrannous: 
 ' and,' said he very very generously, ' to-morrow 
 night I too propose to say my prayers. If any one 
 object, he may fight me.' Thus, being a handy lad 
 with his fists, he established the right of religious 
 liberty on board. By and by one or two of the better- 
 disposed midshipmen followed his example: by de- 
 grees the custom spread along the lower deck, where 
 the dispute had happened in full view of the whole 
 ship's company, seamen and marines ; and by the 
 time she reached her port of Halifax she hadn't a 
 man on board (outside the ward-room) but said his 
 prayers regularly." 
 
 A notable Christian triumph," was the Vicar's 
 comment. 
 
 " Quite so. At Halifax," pursued my father, 
 
 'JO
 
 AN ARMY AND AX IXVASIOX 
 
 (I 
 
 Captain Byng took aboard out of hospital another 
 small midshipman, who on his first night no sooner 
 climbed into bis hammock than the entire mess 
 bundled him out of it. ' We would have you to know, 
 young man,' said they, ' that private devotion is the 
 rule on board our ship. It's down on your knees this 
 minute or you get the strap.' 
 
 " I leave you," my father concluded, " to draw the 
 moral. For my part the tale teaches me that in any 
 struggle for freedom the real danger begins w^ith the 
 moment of victory." 
 
 Said my uncle Gervase after a pause, " Then these 
 Corsicans of yours, brother, stand as yet in no real 
 danger, since the Genoese are yet harrying their 
 island with fire and sword." 
 
 " In no danger at all as regards their liberty," an- 
 swered my father, poising his knife for a first cut 
 into the saddle of mutton, " though in some danger, 
 I fear me, as regards their queen. They have, how- 
 ever, taken the first and most important step by get- 
 ting the news carried to me. The next is to raise 
 an army; and the next after that, to suit the plan 
 of invasion to our forces. Indeed," wound up my 
 father with another flourish of his carving-knife. 
 " I am in considerable doubt where to make a 
 start." 
 
 " I hold," said my uncle, eyeing the saddle of mut- 
 
 91
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 ton, " that you save the gravy by beginning close 
 alone^side the chine." 
 
 " I was thinking for my part that either Porto or 
 Sagone would serve us best," said my father medi- 
 tatively. 
 
 Dinner over, the four of us strolled out abreast 
 into the cool evening and down through the deer-park 
 to the small Ionic temple, where Billy Priske had laid 
 out fruit, wine, and glasses ; and there, with no more 
 ceremony than standing to drink my health, the three 
 initiated me into the brotherhood of St. Swithin. It 
 gave me a sudden sense of being grown a man, and 
 this sense my father very promptly proceeded to 
 strengthen. 
 
 " I had hoped," said he, putting down his glass 
 and seating himself, " to delay Prosper's novitiate. 
 I had designed, indeed, that after staying his full 
 time at Oxford he should make the Grand Tour with 
 me and prepare himself for his destiny by a leisured 
 study of cities and men. But this morning's news 
 has forced me to reshape my plans. Listen : 
 
 " In the early autumn of 1735, being then at the 
 Court of Tuscany, I received sudden and secret or- 
 ders to repair to Corte, the capital of Corsica, an isl- 
 and of which I knew nothing beyond what I had 
 learnt in casual talk from the Count Domenico Riva- 
 rola, who then acted as its plenipotentiary at Flor- 
 
 92
 
 AX ARMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 ence. He was a man with whom I would willingly 
 have taken coimsel, but my orders from England 
 expressly forbade it. Rivarola in fact was suspected 
 — and justly as my story will show — of designs of his 
 own for the future of the island ; and although, as it 
 will also show, we had done better to consult him — 
 Wal pole's injunctions were precise that I should by 
 every means keep him in the dark. 
 
 " The situation — to put it as briefly as I can — was 
 this. For two hundred years or so the island had 
 been ruled by the Republic of Genoa; and, by com- 
 mon consent, atrociously. For generations the island- 
 ers had lived in chronic revolt, under chiefs against 
 whom the Genoese — or, to speak more correctly, the 
 Bank of Genoa — had not scrupled to apply every de- 
 vice, down to secret assassination, Uno avolso non 
 deficit alter: the Corsicans never lacked a leader to 
 replace the fallen: and in 1735 the succession was 
 shared by two noble patriots, Giafferi and Hyacinth 
 Paoli. 
 
 " Under their attacks the Genoese were slowlv but 
 none the less certainly losing their hold on the island. 
 Their plight was such that, although no one knew 
 precisely what they would do, every one foresaw that, 
 failino; some heroic remedv, thev must be driven into 
 the sea, garrison after garrison, and lose Corsica alto- 
 gether; and of all speculations the most probable 
 
 93
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTIXE 
 
 seemed that thej would sell the island, with all its 
 troubles, to France. Now for France to acquire so 
 capital a point d'appui in the Mediterranean would 
 obviously be no small inconvenience to England : and 
 therefore our Ministers — who had hitherto regarded 
 the struggles of the islanders with indifference — ^woke 
 up to a sudden interest in Corsican affairs. 
 
 " They had no excuse for interfering openly. But 
 if the Corsicans would but take heart and choose 
 themselves a king, that king could at a ripe moment 
 be diplomatically acknowledged ; and any interfer- 
 ence by France would at once become an act of vio- 
 lent usurpation. (For let me tell you, my friends — 
 the sufferings of a people count as nothing in diplo- 
 macy against the least trivial act against a crown.) 
 The nuisance was, the two Paolis, Giafferi and Hya- 
 cinth, had no notion whatever of making themselves 
 kings ; nor would their devoted followers have tol- 
 erated it. Yet — as sometimes liappens — there was a 
 third man, of greater descent than they, to whom 
 at a pinch the crown miglit be offered, and with a 
 far more likely chance of the Corsicans' acquiescence. 
 This was a Count Ugo Colonna, a middle-aged man, 
 descended from the oldest nobility of the island, and 
 head of his family, which might more properly be 
 called a clan; a patriot, in his way, too, though lack- 
 ing the fire of the Paolis, to whom he had sur- 
 
 94
 
 AX ARMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 rendered the leadership while remaining some- 
 thing of a figurehead. In short my business was 
 to confer with him at Corte, persuade the Corsican 
 chiefs to offer him the crown, and persuade him to 
 accept it. 
 
 " I arrived then at the capital and found Count 
 Ugo willing enough, though by no means eager, for 
 the honour. He was in fact a mild-mannered gentle- 
 man of no great force of character, and frequently 
 interrupted our conference to talk by choice of a 
 bowel-complaint which obviously meant more to him 
 than all the internal complications of Europe : and 
 next to his bowel-complaint — but some way after — 
 he prized his popularity, which ever seemed more im- 
 portant than his country's welfare : or belike he 
 confused the two. He was at great pains to impress 
 me with the sacrifices he had made for Corsica — 
 which in tlic past had been real enough: but he had 
 come to regard them chiefly as matter for public 
 speaking, or excuse for public bowing and lifting of 
 the hat. You know the sort of man, I dare say. To 
 pass that view of life, at his age, is the last test 
 of greatness. 
 
 *' Still, the notion of being crowned King of Cor- 
 sica tickled his vanity, and would liave tickled it 
 more had he begotten a son to succeed him. It 
 opened new prospects of driving through crowds and 
 
 95
 
 SIR JOHX COXSTANTmE 
 
 bowing and lifting his hat : and he turned pardonably 
 sulky when the two Paolis treated my proposals with 
 suspicion. They had an immense respect for Eng- 
 land as the leader of the free peoples: but they 
 wanted to know why in Tuscany I had not taken 
 their Count Rivarola into my confidence. In fact 
 they were in communication with their plenipoten- 
 tiary already, and half-way towards another plan, 
 of which very excusably they allowed me to guess 
 nothing. 
 
 " The upshot was that my interference threw 
 Count Ugo into a pet with them. He only wanted 
 them to press him; was angry at not being pressed; 
 yet believed that they would repent in time. Mean- 
 while he persuaded me to ride back with him to one 
 of his estates, a palace above the valley of the 
 Taravo. 
 
 " I know not why, but ever the vow of Jephthah 
 comes to my mind as I remember how we rode up 
 the valley to Count Ugo's house in the hour before 
 sunset. * And behold, his daughter came out to meet 
 him with timbrels and with dances, and she was his 
 only child.' He had made no vow and was incapable, 
 poor man, of keeping any so heroic; and she came 
 out with no timbrel or dance, but soberly enough in 
 her sad-coloured dress of the people. Yet she came 
 out while we rode a good mile off, and waited for 
 
 96
 
 AN ARMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 us as we climbed the last slope, and she was his only 
 child. 
 
 " How shall I tell you of her ? She helped my 
 purpose nothing, for at first she was vehemently op- 
 posed to her father's consenting to be king. Her 
 politics she derived in part from the reading of 
 Plutarch's Lives and in part from her own sim- 
 plicity. They were childish, utterly: yet they put 
 me to shame, for they glowed with the purest love 
 of her country. She has walked on fiery plougli- 
 shares since then ; she has trodden the furnace, and 
 her beautiful bare feet are seared since they trod the 
 cool vintage with me on the slopes above the Taravo 
 . . . Priske, open the first of those bottles, yonder, 
 with the purple seal ! Here is that very wine, my 
 friends. Pour and hold it up to the sunset before you 
 taste. Had ever wine such a royal heart ? I will tell 
 you how to grow it. Choose first of all a vineyard 
 facing south, between mountains and the sea. Let 
 it lie so that it drinks the sun the day through ; but 
 let the protecting mountains carry perpetual snow 
 to cool the land breeze all the niglit. Having chosen 
 your site, drench it for two hundred years with the 
 blood of freemen; drench it so deep that no tai>root 
 can reach down below its fertilising virtue. Plant 
 it in defeat, and harvest it in liope, grape by grape, 
 fearfully, as though the bloom on each were a state's 
 
 97
 
 SIR JOHI^^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 ransom. Isext treat it after the recipe of the wine 
 of Cos ; dropping the grapes singly into vats of sea 
 water, drawn in stone jars from full fifteen fathoms 
 in a spell of halcyon weather and left to stand for 
 the space of one moon. Drop them in, one by one, 
 until the water scarcely covers the mass. Let stand 
 again for two days, and then call for your maidens 
 to tread them, with hymns, under the new moon. 
 Ah, and yet you may miss ! For your maidens must 
 be clean, and yet fierce as though they trod out the 
 hearts of men, as indeed they do. A king's daughter 
 should lead them, and they must trample with inno- 
 cence, and yet with such fury as the prophet's who 
 said ' their blood shall be sprinkled upon my gar- 
 ments, and I will stain all my raiment: for the day 
 of vengeance is in my heart, and the year of my 
 redeemed is come ' . . ." 
 
 My father lifted his glass. " To thee, Emilia, 
 child and queen ! " 
 
 He drank, and, setting down his glass, rested silent 
 for a while, his eyes full of a solemn rapture. 
 
 " My friends," he went on at length with lowered 
 voice, " know you that old song? 
 
 " Methought I walked still to and fro, 
 And from her company could not go — 
 But when I waked it was not so: 
 
 In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. 
 
 98
 
 AN ARMY AND AX INVASION 
 
 " All that autumn I spent under her father's roof, 
 and — my leave having been extended — all the win- 
 ter following. The old Count had convinced himself 
 by this time that by accepting the crown he would 
 confer a signal service on Corsica, and had opened 
 a lengthy correspondence with the two Paolis, whose 
 hesitation to accept this view at once puzzled and 
 annoyed him. For me, I wished the correspond- 
 ence might be prolonged for ever, for meanwhile 
 I lived my days in company with Emilia, and we 
 loved. 
 
 " I was a fool. Yet I cannot tax myself that I 
 played false to duty, though by helping to crown 
 her father I was destroying my own hopes, since as 
 heiress to his throne Emilia must be far removed 
 from me. We scarcely thought of this, but lived in 
 our love, we two. So the winter passed and the 
 spring came and the macchia burst into flower. 
 
 " Prosper, you have never set eyes on the macchia, 
 the glory of your kingdom. But you shall behold 
 it soon, lad, and smell it — for its fragrance spreads 
 around the island and far out to sea. It belts Corsica 
 with verdure and a million million flowers — cistus 
 and myrtle and broom and juniper; clematis and 
 vetch and wild roses run mad. Deeper than the tall 
 forests behind it, the macchia will liido two lovers, 
 and under the open sky hedge off all the world but 
 
 99
 
 SIR JOH^^T CONSTAiSTTINE 
 
 their passion ... In the macchia we roamed to- 
 gether, day after day, and forgot the world ; forgot 
 all but honour; for she, my lady, was a child of 
 sixteen, and as her knight I worshipped her. Ah, 
 those days ! those scented days ! 
 
 " But while we loved and Count Ugo wrote letters, 
 the two Paolis were doing; and by and by they 
 played the strangest stroke in all Corsica's history. 
 That spring, at Aleria on the east coast, there landed 
 a man of whom the Corsicans had never heard. He 
 came out of nowhere with a single ship and less than 
 a score of attendants — to be precise, two officers, a 
 priest, a secretary, a major-domo, an under-steward, 
 a cook, three Tunisian slaves, and six lackeys. He 
 had sailed from Algiers, with a brief rest in the port 
 of Leghorn, and he stepped ashore in Turkish dress, 
 with scarlet-lined cloak, turban, and scimitar. He 
 called himself Theodore, a baron of Westphalia, and 
 he brought with him a shipload of arms and am- 
 munition, a thousand zechins of Tunis, and letters 
 from half a dozen of the Great Powers promising as- 
 sistance. Whether these were genuine or not, I can- 
 not tell you. 
 
 " Led by the two Paolis — this is no fairy tale, my 
 friends — the Corsicans welcomed and proclaimed 
 him king, without even waiting for despatches from 
 Count Rivarola (who had negotiated) to inform 
 
 100
 
 AN AKMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 them of the terms agreed upon. They led him in 
 triumph to Corte, and there, in their ancient capital, 
 crowned and anointed him. He gave laws, issued 
 edicts, struck money, distributed rewards. He put 
 himself in person at the head of the militia, and 
 blocked up the Genoese in their fortified towns. For 
 a few months he swept the island like a conqueror. 
 
 " All this, as you may suppose, utterly discon- 
 certed the Count Ugo Colonna, who saw his dreams 
 topple at one stroke into the dust. But the chiefs 
 found a way to reconcile him. Their new King 
 Theodore must marry and found a dynasty. Let a 
 bride be found for him in Colonna's daughter, and 
 let children be born to him of the best blood in 
 Corsica. 
 
 " The Count recovered his good temper ; his spirits 
 rose at a bound : he embraced the offer. His grand- 
 sons should be kings of Corsica. And she — my 
 Emilia 
 
 " We met once — once only — after her father had 
 broken the news to her. He had not asked her con- 
 sent: he had told her, in a flutter of pride, that this 
 thing must be, and for her country's sake. She came 
 to me, in the short dusk, upon the terrace overlook- 
 ing the Taravo. She was of heart too heroic to 
 linger out our agony. In the dusk she stretched out 
 both hands — ah, God, the child she looked ! so help- 
 
 101
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 less, so brave ! — and I caught them and kissed them. 
 Then she was gone. 
 
 " A week later they married her to King Theodore 
 in the Cathedral of Corte, and crowned her beside 
 him. Before the winter he left the island and sailed 
 to Holland to raise moneys; for the promises of the 
 Great Powers had come to nothing, even if they were 
 genuinely given. For myself, I had bidden good-bye 
 to Corsica and sailed for Tuscany on the same day 
 that he was married. 
 
 " ISTow I must tell you that on the eve of sailing 
 I wrote a letter to the queen — as queen she would 
 be by the time it reached her — wishing her all hap- 
 piness and adding that if, in the time to come, fate 
 should bring her into poverty or danger, my estate 
 and my life would ever be at her service. To this 
 I received^ as I had expected, no answer : nor did she, 
 if ever she received it, impart its contents to her 
 husband. He — the rascal — had a genius for borrow- 
 ing, and yet 'twas I that had to begin by seeking 
 him out to feed him with money. 
 
 " ISTews came to me that he was in straits in Hol- 
 land, and had for a year been drumming the banks 
 in vain : also that the Genoese, whom his incursion 
 had merely confounded, were beginning to lift their 
 heads and take the offensive again. At first he had 
 terrified them like a mad dog; the one expedient they 
 
 102
 
 AN ARMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 could hit on was to set a price upon his head. Cer- 
 tainly he had gifts. He contrived — and by sheer 
 audacity, mark you, backed by a fine presence — to 
 drive them into such a panic that, months after he 
 had sailed, they were petitioning France to send over 
 troops to help them. Tlie Corsicans sent a counter- 
 embassy. ' If,' said they to King Louis, ' your 
 ^lajesty force us to yield to Genoa, then let us drink 
 this bitter cup to the health of the Most Christian 
 King, and die.' King Louis admired the speech but 
 nibbled at the opportunity. Our own Government 
 meanwhile had either lost heart or suffered itself to 
 be i^ersuaded by the Genoese Minister in London. 
 In the July after my Emilia's marriage, our late 
 Queen Caroline, as regent for the time of Great 
 Britain, issued a proclamation forbidding any sub- 
 ject of King George to furnish arms or provisions to 
 the Corsican malcontents. 
 
 " And now you know, my dear Prosper, why I cast 
 away the career on which I had started with some 
 ambition. My lady lacked help, which as a British 
 subject I was prohibited from offering. My con- 
 science allowed me to disobey : but not to disobey and 
 eat his Majesty's bread. I fiung up my post, and 
 as a private man hunted across Europe for King 
 Theodore. 
 
 " I ran him to earth in Amsterdam. He was in 
 
 103
 
 SIR JOHI^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 handsome lodgings, but penniless. It was the first 
 time I had conversed with him ; and he, I believe, 
 had never seen my face. I found him affable, spe- 
 cious, sanguine, but hollow as a drum. For her sake 
 I took up and renewed the campaign among the Jew 
 bankers. 
 
 " To be short, he sailed back for Corsica in a "well- 
 found ship, with cannon and ammunition on board, 
 and some specie — the whole cargo worth between 
 twenty and thirty thousand pounds. He made a 
 landing at Tavagna and threw in almost all his war- 
 like stores. His wife hurried to meet him: but 
 after a week, finding that the French were pouring 
 troops into the island, and becoming (they tell me) ' 
 suddenly nervous of the price on his head, he sailed 
 away almost without warning. They say also that 
 on the passage he murdered the man whom his cred- 
 itors had forced him to take as supercargo, sold the 
 vessel at Leghorn, and made off with the specie — 
 no penny of which had reached his queen or his poor 
 subjects. She — sad childless soul — driven with her 
 chiefs and counsellors into the mountains before the 
 combined French and Genoese, escaped a year later 
 to Tuscany, and hid herself with her sorrows in a 
 religious house ten miles from Florence. 
 
 " So ended this brief reign : and you, Prosper, 
 have met the chief actor in it. A very few words 
 
 104
 
 AN ARMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 will tell the rest. The French overran the island 
 until '41, when the business of the Austrian succes- 
 sion forced them to withdraw their troops and leave 
 the Genoese once more face to face with the islanders. 
 Promptly these rose again. Giafferi and Hyacinth 
 Paoli had fled to Naples; Hyacinth with two sons, 
 Pascal and Clement, whom he trained there (as I 
 am told) in all the liberal arts and in undying 
 hatred of the Genoese. These two lads, returning 
 to the island, took up their father's fight, and have 
 maintained it, with fair success as I learn. From 
 parts of the island they must have completely ex- 
 truded the enemy for a while; since my lady made 
 bold, four years ago, to settle these visitors of ours 
 in her palace above the Taravo. It would appear, 
 however, that the Genoese have gathered head again, 
 and his business with them may explain why Pascal 
 Paoli has not answered the letter I addressed to him, 
 these eight months since, notifying my son's claim 
 upon the succession. Or he may have reckoned it 
 indecent of me to address him in lieu of his queen, 
 who had returned to the island. I had not heard of 
 her return. I heard of it to-day for the first time, 
 and of her peril, which shall hurry us ten times 
 faster than our pretensions. Prosper," my father 
 concluded, " we must invade Corsica, and at once.'' 
 '' Good Lord ! " exclaimed my uncle. " How ? " 
 
 105
 
 SIE JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " In a ship," my father answered him as simply. 
 " How otherwise ? " 
 
 Said my uncle, " But where is your ship ? " 
 
 Answered my father, " If you will but step outside 
 and pick up one of these fir-cones in the grass, you 
 can almost toss it on to her deck. She is called the 
 Gauntlet, and her skipper is Captain Jo Pomery. 
 I might have racked my brain for a month to find 
 as good a skipper or a ship so well found and hap- 
 pily named as these which Providence has brought 
 to my door. I attach particular importance to the 
 name of a ship." 
 
 My uncle ran his hands through his hair. " But 
 to invade a kingdom," he protested, " you will need 
 also an army ! " 
 
 " Certainly. I must find one." 
 
 " But where ? " 
 
 " It must be somewhere in the neighbourhood, and 
 within twentj^-four hours," replied my father imper- 
 turbably. " Time presses." 
 
 " But an army must be paid. You have not only 
 to raise one, but to find the money to support it." 
 
 " You put me in mind of an old German tale," 
 said my father, helping himself to wine. " Once 
 upon a time there were three brothers — but since, 
 my dear Gervase, you show signs of impatience, I 
 will confine myself to the last and luckiest one. On 
 
 106
 
 AN ARMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 his travels, which I will not pause to describe in 
 detail, he acquired three gifts — a knapsack which, 
 when opened, discharged a regiment of grenadiers ; a 
 cloth which, when spread, was covered with a meal ; 
 and a purse which, when shaken, filled itself with 
 money." 
 
 " Will you be serious, brother ? " cried my uncle. 
 
 " I am entirely serious ! " answered my father. 
 " The problem of an army and its pay I propose to 
 solve by enlisting volimteers; and the difficulty of 
 feeding my troops (I had forgotten it and thank you 
 for reminding me) will be minimised by enlisting 
 as few as possible. Myself and Prosper make two; 
 Priske, here, three; I would fain have you accom- 
 pany us, Gervase, but the estate cannot spare you. 
 Let me see — " He drummed for a moment on the 
 table with his fingers. " We ought to have four more 
 at least, to make a show: and seven is a lucky 
 number." 
 
 " You seriously design," my uncle demanded, " to 
 invade the island of Corsica with an army of seven 
 persons ? " 
 
 " Most seriously I do. For consider. To begin 
 with, this Theodore — a vain, hollow man — brought 
 but sixteen, including many non-combatants, and yet 
 succeeded in winning a croA\Ti. You will allow that 
 to win a crown is a harder feat than to succeed to one. 
 
 107
 
 SIE JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 On Avhat reckoning then^ or by what Riile-of -Three 
 sum, should Prosper, who goes to claim what already 
 belongs to him, need more than seven ? 
 
 " Further," my father continued, " it may well 
 be argued that the fewer he takes the better; since 
 we sail not against the Corsicans but against their 
 foes, and therefore should count on finding in every 
 Corsican a soldier for our standard. 
 
 " Thirdly, the Corsicans are a touchy race, whom 
 it would be impolitic to offend with a show of foreign 
 strength. 
 
 " Fourthly, we must look a little beyond the im- 
 mediate enterprise, and not (if we can help it) saddle 
 Prosper's kingdom with a standing army. For, as 
 Bacon advises, that state stands in danger whose 
 warriors remain in a body and are used to donatives ; 
 whereof we see examples in the Turk's Janissaries 
 and the Pretorian Bands of Rome. 
 
 " And fifthly, we have neither the time nor the 
 money to collect a stronger force. The occasion 
 presses; and fronte capillata est, post Jicec Occasio 
 calva: Time turns a bald head to us if we miss our 
 moment to catch him by the forelock." 
 
 " The Abantes," put in Mr. Grylls, " practised the 
 direct contrary: of whom Homer tells us that they 
 shaved the forepart of their heads, the reason being 
 that thoir enemies might not gi'ip them by the hair 
 
 108
 
 A.\ AILMY AND AN INVASION 
 
 in close fighting. I regret, my dear Constantine, you 
 never warned me that you designed Prosper for a 
 military career. We might have bestowed more at- 
 tention on the warlike customs and operations of the 
 ancients." 
 
 My father sipped his wine and regarded the Vicar 
 benevolently. For closest friends he had two of the 
 most irrelevant thinkers on earth and he delighted 
 to distinguish between their irrelevancies. 
 
 " But I would not/' he continued, " have you 
 doubt that the prime cause of our expedition is to 
 deliver my lady from the Genoese; or believe that 
 Prosper will press his claims unless she acknowledge 
 them." 
 
 " I am Avondering," said my uncle, " where you 
 will find your other four men." 
 
 " Prosper and I will provide them to-morrow," my 
 father answered with a careless glance at me. " And 
 now, my friends, we have talked overlong of Corsica 
 and nothing as yet of that companionship which 
 brings us here — it may be for the last time. Priske, 
 you may open another four bottles and leave us. 
 Gervase, take down the book from the cupboard and 
 let the Vicar read to us while the light allows." 
 
 " The marker tells me," said the Vicar, taking the 
 book and opening it, " that we left off in the midst of 
 Chapter 8 — On the Luce or Fike.^' 
 
 109
 
 SIR JOIIX COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 " Ay, and so I remember," my uncle agreed. 
 The Vicar began to read : 
 
 And for your dead bait for a pike, for that you may be 
 taught by one day's going a-fishing Avith me or any other 
 body that fishes for him ; for the baiting of your hook with a 
 dead gudgeon or a roach and moving it up and down the 
 water is too easy a thing to take up any time to direct you to 
 do it. And yet, because I cut you short in that, I will com- 
 mute for it by teUing you that that was told me for a secret. 
 It is this: Dissolve gum of ivy in oil of spike, and therewith 
 anoint your dead bait for a pike, and then cast it into a likely 
 place, and when it has lain a short time at the bottom, draw 
 it towards the top of the water and so up the stream, and it 
 is more than hkely that you have a pike follow with more 
 than common eagerness. And some affirm that any bait 
 anointed with the marrow of the thigh-bone of a heron is a 
 great temptation to any fish. 
 
 These have not been tried by me, but told me by a friend 
 of mine, that pretended to do me a courtesy. But if this 
 direction to catch a pike thus do you no good, yet I am 
 certain this direction how to roast him when he is caught is 
 choicely good 
 
 " Upon my soul, brother," interrupted my uncle 
 Gervase, removing the pipe from his mouth, " this 
 reads like a direction for the taking of Corsica." 
 
 110
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE COMPANY OF THE ROSE 
 
 Alway be merry if thou may, 
 But waste not thy good alway: 
 Have hat of floures fresh as May, 
 Chapelet of roses of Whitsonday 
 For sich array ne costneth but lyte. 
 
 — Romaunt of the Rose. 
 
 Somerset. Let him that is no coward 
 
 Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. 
 
 — First Part of King Henry VI. 
 
 Early next morning I was returning, a rosebud 
 in my hand, from the neglected garden to the east 
 of the house, when I spied my father coming towards 
 me along the terraces, and at once felt my ears 
 redden. 
 
 " Good morning, lad ! " he hailed. " But where is 
 mine ? " 
 
 I turned back in silence and picked a bud for him. 
 " So," said I, " 'twas you, sir, after all, that wrote 
 the advertisement ? " 
 
 " Hey ? " he answered. " I ? Certainly not. I 
 noted it and sent you the news-sheet in half a hope 
 that vou had been the advertiser." 
 
 4/ 
 
 111
 
 SIR JOH^T CONSTAJv^TIXE 
 
 "You were mistaken, sir." 
 
 He halted and rubbed his chin. " Then who the 
 devil can he be, I wonder ? Well, we shall discover." 
 
 " You ride to Falmouth this morning ? " 
 
 " We have an army to collect," he answered, grip- 
 ping me not unkindly by the shoulder. 
 
 We rode into Falmouth side by side, Billy Priske 
 following, by my father's command, and each with 
 a red rose pinned to the flap of his hat. Upon the 
 way we talked, mainly of the Trappist Brothers, and 
 of Dom Basilio, who (it seemed) had at one time 
 been an agent of the British legation at Florence, 
 and in particular had carried my father's reports 
 and instructions to and fro between Corsica and that 
 city, avoiding the vigilance of the Genoese. 
 
 " A subtle fellow," was my father's judgment, 
 " and, as I gave him credit, in the matter of con- 
 science as null as Cellini himself: the last man in 
 the world to turn religious. But the longer you live 
 the more cause will you find to wonder at the divine 
 spirit which bloweth where it listeth. Take these 
 Methodists, who are to preach in Falmouth to-day. 
 I have seen Wesley, and stood once for an hour listen- 
 ing to him. For aught I could discover he had no 
 great eloquence. He said little that his audience 
 might not have lieard any Sunday in their own 
 churches. His voice was hoarse from overwork, and 
 
 112
 
 TlIK COMPAXY OF THE HOSE 
 
 his manner by no means winning. Yet T saw many 
 notorions ruffians sobbing about Iiini like children: 
 some even throwing themselves on the ground and 
 writhing, like the demoniacs of Scripture. The se- 
 cret was, he spoke with authority: and the secret 
 again was a certain obtuseness — he appeared not to 
 see those signs by which other men judge their neigh- 
 bours or themselves to be past help. Or take these 
 Trappists : Dom Basilio tells me that more than half 
 of them are ex-soldiers and rough at that. To be 
 sure I can understand why, having once turned re- 
 ligious, an old soldier runs to the Trappist rule. He 
 has been bred under discipline, and has to rely 
 on discipline. 'Tis what he understands, and the 
 harder he gets it the more good he feels himself 
 getting " 
 
 We were nearing the town by the way of Arwen- 
 nack, and just here a turn of the road brought us 
 in sight of a whitewashed cottage and put a period 
 to my father's discourse, as a garden gate flew open 
 and out into the highway ran a lean young man 
 with an angry woman in pursuit. His shoulders 
 were bent and he put up both hands to ward off her 
 clutch. But in the middle of the road she gripped 
 him by the collar and caught him two sound cuffs on 
 the nape of the neck. 
 
 She turned as we rode up. " The villain ! " she 
 
 113
 
 SIR JOHX COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 cried, still keeping her grip. " Oh, protect me from 
 such villains ! " 
 
 " But, my good woman," remonstrated my father, 
 reining up, " it scarcely appears that you need pro- 
 tecting. Who is this man ? " 
 
 " A thief, your honour ! Didn't I catch him 
 prowling into my garden? And isn't it for him to 
 say what his business was ? I put it to your honour " 
 — here she caught the poor wretch another cuff — 
 " what honest business took him into my garden, and 
 me left a widow-woman these sixteen vears ? " 
 
 " Ai-ee ! " cried the accused, still shielding his 
 neck and cowering in the dust — a thin, ragged windle- 
 straw of a youth, flaxen-headed, hatchet-faced, with 
 eyes set like a hare's. " Have pity on me, sirs, and 
 take her off ! " 
 
 " Let him stand up," my father commanded. 
 '' And you, sir, tell me — What were you seeking in 
 this good woman's garden ? " 
 
 " A rose, sir — hear my defence ! — a rose only, a 
 small rose ! " His voice was high and cracked, and 
 he flung his hands out extravagantly. " Oh, York 
 and Lancaster — if you will excuse me, gentlemen — 
 that I should suffer this for a mere rose ! The day 
 only just begun too! And why, sirs, was I seeking 
 a rose ? Ay, there's the rub." He folded his arms 
 dramatically and nodded at the woman. " There's 
 
 114
 
 THE COMPANY OF THE ROSE 
 
 the gall and hitterness, the worm in the fruit, the 
 peculiar irony — if you'll allow me to say so — of this 
 distressing affair. Listen, madam, if I w^antcd a 
 rose of you, 'twas for your whole sex's sake : your 
 sex's, madam — every one of whom was, up to five 
 or six months ago, the object with me of something 
 very nearly allied to worship." 
 
 " Lord help the creature ! " cried the woman. 
 "What's he telling about? And what have you to 
 do with my sex, young man ? which is what the Lord 
 made it." 
 
 "It is not, madam. Make no mistake about it: 
 'twere blasphemy to think so. But speaking gener- 
 ally, what I — as a man — have to do with your sex 
 is to protect it." 
 
 " A nice sort of protector you'd make ! " she re- 
 torted, planting her knuckles on her hips and eyeing 
 him contemptuously. 
 
 " I am a beginner, madam, and have much to 
 learn. But you shall not discourage me from pro- 
 tecting you, though you deny me the rose which was 
 to have been my emblem. Every woman is a rose, 
 madam, as says the poet Dunbar — 
 
 " Sweet rose of vertew and of gentilness, 
 Richest in bonty and in bewty clear 
 And every vertew that is werrit dear, 
 Except only that ye are nierciless 
 
 115
 
 SIR JOHX COXSTANTINE 
 
 "You take me? 'Merciless,' madam?" 
 
 " I don't understand a word," said she, puzzled 
 
 and angry. 
 
 " He was a Scotsman : and you find it a far cry 
 
 to Loch Awe. Well, well — to resume — 
 
 " Into your garth this day I did pursue 
 
 by ' garth ' meaning ' garden ' : a good word, and 
 why the devil it should be obsolescent is more than 
 I can tell you " 
 
 But here my father cut him short. " My good 
 Mrs. Ede," said he, turning to the woman, " I believe 
 this young man intended no harm to you and very 
 little to your garden. You are quits with him at 
 any rate. Take this shilling, step inside, and choose 
 him a fair red rose for the price and also in token 
 of your forgiveness, while he picks up his hat which 
 is lying yonder in the dust." 
 
 "Hey?" The youth started back, for the first 
 time perceiving the badges in our hats. " Are you 
 too, sirs, of this company of the rose ? " His face 
 fell, but with an effort he recovered himself and 
 smiled. 
 
 " You are not disappointed, I hope ? " inquired 
 mv father. 
 
 " Why — to tell you the truth, sir — I had looked 
 for a rendezvous of careless jolly fellows. For 
 
 116
 
 THE COMPANY OF THE liOSE 
 
 cavaliers of your quality it never occurred to me 
 to bargain." He held np a flap of his ragged coat 
 and shook it rnefiilly. 
 
 My father frowned. " And I, sir, am disap- 
 pointed. A moment since I took you for an original ; 
 but it appears you share our common English vice 
 of looking at the world like a lackey." 
 
 " I, sir ? " The young man waved a hand. " I 
 an original ? Give me leave to assure you that this 
 island contains no more servile tradesman. Why, my 
 lord — for I take it I speak to a gentleman of 
 title ?" 
 
 " Of the very humblest, sir. I am a plain knight 
 bachelor." 
 
 The original cringed elaborately, rubbing his 
 hands. " A title is a title. Well, sir, as I was about 
 to say, I worship a lord, but my whole soul is bound 
 up in a ledger: and hence (so to speak) these tears: 
 hence the disreputable garb in which you behold me. 
 If I may walk beside you, sir, after this good woman 
 has fetched me the rose — thank vou, madam — and 
 provided me with a pin from the chevaux de frise in 
 her bodice — and again, madam, I thank you : you 
 wear the verv cuirass of matronlv virtue — I should 
 enjoy, sir, to tell you my history. It is a somewhat 
 curious one." 
 
 " I feel sure, sir " — mv father bowed to him 
 
 117
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTIKE 
 
 from the saddle — '' it will lose nothing in the tell- 
 ing." 
 
 The young man, having fastened the rose in his 
 hat, bade adieu to his late assailant with a bow; 
 waved a hand to her ; lifted his hat a second time ; 
 turned after us and, falling into stride by my father's 
 stirrup, forthwith plunged into his story. 
 
 The Travels of Phineas Fett 
 
 " My name, sir, is Phineas Fett " 
 
 He paused. " I don't know how it may strike 
 you : but in my infant ears it ever seemed to f or- 
 bode something in the Admiralty — a comfortable 
 post, carrying no fame with it, but moderately lucra- 
 tive. In wilder flights my fancy has hovered over 
 the Pipe Office (Addison, sir, was a fine writer; 
 though a bit of a prig, between you and me)." 
 
 " There was a Phineas Pett, a great shipbuilder 
 for the iSTavy in King Charles the Second's time. I 
 believe, too, he had a son christened after him, who 
 became a commissioner of the Navy." 
 
 " You don't say so ! The mere accident of a let- 
 ter . . . but it proves the accuracy of our childish 
 instincts. A commissionership — whatever the duties 
 it may carry — would be the very thing, or a store- 
 keepership, with a number of ledgers : it being un- 
 
 118
 
 THE COMPANY OF TlIP] ROSE 
 
 derstood that shipping formed my background, in 
 what I believe is naiiticallj termed the offing. I 
 know not what exact distance constitutes an offing. 
 My imagination ever placed it within sight and suffi- 
 ciently near the scene of my occupation to pervade 
 it with an odour of hemp and tar." 
 
 He paused again, glanced up at my father, and — 
 on a nod of encouragement — continued : 
 
 " The nuisance is, I was bom in the Midlands — 
 to be precise, at West Bromicheham — the son of a 
 well-to-do manufacturer of artificial jewellery. The 
 only whiff of the brine that ever penetrated my 
 father's office came wafted through an off-channel of 
 his trade. He did an intermittent business in the 
 gilding of small idols, to be shipped overseas and 
 traded as objects of worship among the negroes of 
 the American plantations. Jewellery, however, was 
 his stand-by. In the manufacture of meretricious 
 ware he had a plausibility amounting to genius, in 
 the disposing of it a talent for hard bargains; and 
 the two together had landed him in affluence. Well, 
 sir, being headed off my boyhood's dream by the geo- 
 graphical inconvenience of Warwickshire — for a lad 
 may run away to be a sailor, sir, but the devil take 
 me if ever I heard of one running off to be a super- 
 cargo, and even this lay a bit beyond my ambition 
 — I recoiled upon a passion to enter my father's 
 
 119
 
 SIR JOHJS^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 business and increase the already tidy patrimonial 
 pile. 
 
 " But here comes in the cross of my destiny. My 
 father, sir, had secretly cherished dreams of raising 
 me above his own station. To him a gentleman — and 
 he ridiculously hoped to make me one — was a fellow 
 above working for his living. He scoffed at my en- 
 thusiasm for trade, and at length he sent for me and 
 in tones that brooked no denial commanded me to 
 learn the violin. 
 
 " N^ever shall I forget the chill of heart with which 
 I received that fatal mandate. I have no ear for 
 music, sir. In tenderer years indeed I had made 
 essay upon the Jew's harp, but had relinquished it 
 without a sigh. 
 
 " ' The violin ! ' I cried, though the words choked 
 me. ' Father, anything but that ! If it were the 
 violoncello, now ' 
 
 " But he cut me short in cold incisive accents. 
 ' The violin, or you are no son of mine.' 
 
 " I fled from the house, my home no longer. On 
 the way to the front-door I had sufficient presence 
 of mind, and no more, to make a detour to the lar- 
 der and possess myself of the longest joint; which 
 my heated judgment, confusing temporal with linen 
 measurement, commended to me as the most sustain- 
 ing. It proved to be a shin of beef: unnutritious 
 
 120
 
 THE COMPANY OF THE ROSE 
 
 except for soup (and I carried no tureen), useless 
 as an object of barter. With this and two half- 
 crowns in my pocket I slammed the front-door behind 
 me and faced the future." 
 
 Mr. Fett paused impressively. 
 
 " And you call me an original, sir," he went on in 
 accents of reproach ; " me, who started in life with 
 two half-crowns in my pocket, the conventional outfit 
 for a career of commercial success ! " 
 
 " They have carried you all the way to Fal- 
 mouth ! " 
 
 " The one of them carried me so far as to 
 Coventry, sir: where, finding a fair in progress as 
 I passed through the town, and falling in with three 
 bridesmaids who had missed their wedding party in 
 the crowd, I spent the other in treating them to the 
 hobby-horses at one halfpenny a ride. Four half- 
 pennies — there were four of us — make twopence, and 
 two's into thirty are fifteen rides ; a bold investment 
 of capital, and undertaken (T will confess it) not 
 only to solace the fair ones but to ingratiate myself 
 with the fellow who turned the handle of the ma- 
 chine. To him I applied for a job. He had none 
 to offer, but introduced me to a company of stroll- 
 ing players who (as fortune would have it) were on 
 the point of presenting ' Hamlet ' with a dramatis 
 personam decimated by Coventry ale. They cast me 
 
 121
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 for Poloniiis and some other odds and ends. You 
 may remember, sir, that at one point the Prince of 
 Denmark is instructed to ' enter reading.' That stage 
 direction I caught at, and by a happy ' improvisa- 
 tion ' spread it over the entire play. Not as Polonius 
 only, but as Bernardo upon the midnight platform, 
 as Osric, as Fortinbras, as the Second Gravedigger, 
 as one of the odd players — always I entered reading. 
 In my great scene with the Prince we entered read- 
 ing together. They killed me, still reading, behind 
 the arras ; and at a late hour I supped with the com- 
 pany on Irish stew ; for, incensed by these novelties, 
 the audience had raided a greengrocer's shop between 
 the third and fourth acts and thereafter rained their 
 criticism upon me in the form of cabbages and vari- 
 ous esculent roots which we collected each time the 
 curtain fell. 
 
 " Every cloud, sir, has a silver lining. I con- 
 tinued long enough with this company to learn that 
 in our country an actor need never die of scurvy. 
 But I weary you with my adventures, of which in- 
 deed I am yet in the first chapter." 
 
 " You shall rehearse them on another occasion. 
 But will you at least tell us how you came to Pal- 
 mouth ? " 
 
 " Why, in the simplest manner in tlie world. A 
 fortnight since I happened to be sitting in the stocks, 
 in the absurd but accursed town of Bovey Traccy in 
 
 122
 
 THE COMPANY OF THE ROSE 
 
 Devonshire. My companion — for the machine dis- 
 commodated two — was a fiddler, convicted (like my- 
 self) of vagrancy; a bottle-nosed man, who took the 
 situation wdth such phlegm as only experience can 
 breed, and sliced a sausage composedly under the 
 commonalty's gaze. ' Good Lord,' said I to myself, 
 eyeing him, ' and to think that he with my chances, 
 or I with his taste for music, might be driving at 
 this moment in a coach and pair ! ' 
 
 " ' Sir,' said I, ' are you attached to that instru- 
 ment of yours V 'So deeply,' he answered, ' that, 
 like IsTero, I could fiddle if Bovey Tracey were burn- 
 ing at this moment.' ' You can perform on it 
 creditably ? ' I asked. ' In a fashion to bring tears 
 to your eyes,' he answered me, and offered to prove 
 his words. ' Xot for worlds,' said I ; ' but it grieves 
 me to think how Fortune distributes her favours.' 
 I told him of my father. ' I should like to make the 
 acquaintance of such a man,' said he. ' You shall,' 
 said I ; and, fetching a pencil and a scrap of paper 
 out of my pocket, I wrote as follows : 
 
 '' ' To Mr. Jonathan Fett, Manufacturer of Flams, 
 
 W. Bromicheham. 
 
 The Public Stocks, Bovey Tracey, "Devon. 
 June 21st (longest day). 
 
 Dear Father, — Adopt bearer, in lieu of 
 
 Your affectionate son, 
 
 Phineas.' 
 123
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTAXTKs^E 
 
 " The fiddler at first suspected a jest : but on my 
 repeated assurances took the letter thankfully, and 
 at parting, on our release, pressed on me the end of 
 his sausage wrapped in a piece of newspaper. I ate 
 the sausage moodily and was about to throw the paper 
 away when my eye caught sight of an advertisement 
 in the torn left-hand corner. I read it, and my mind 
 was made up. I am here, and (thanks to you, sir) 
 with a rose in my hat." 
 
 By the time Mr, Fett concluded his narrative we 
 had reached the outskirts of the town and found our- 
 selves in a traffic which, converging upon the Market 
 Strand from every side-street and alley, at once car- 
 ried us along with it and constrained us to a walk- 
 ing pace. My father, finding the throng on the 
 Market Strand too dense for our horses, turned aside 
 to the Three Cups Inn across the street, gave them 
 over to the ostler, and led us upstairs to a window 
 which overlooked the gathering. 
 
 The Market Strand at Falmouth is an open oblong 
 space, not very wide, leading off the main street to 
 the water's edge, and terminating in steps where as 
 a rule the watermen wait to take off passengers to 
 the packets. A lamp-post stands in the middle of 
 it, and by the base of this the preachers — a grey- 
 headed man and two women in ugly bonnets — were 
 already assembled, with but a foot or two dividing 
 
 124
 
 THE CO.MPANY OF THE KOSE 
 
 them from the crowd Close behind the lamp-post 
 stood a knot of men conversing together — one of 
 whom stepped forward for a word with the grey- 
 headed preacher. Tie wore a rose in his hat, and 
 at sight of him my heart gave a wild incredulous 
 leap. It was Nat Fiennes ! 
 
 I pushed past my father and flung the open win- 
 dow still wider. The grey-haired preacher had 
 opened the Bible in his hand and was climbing the 
 stone base of the lamp-post when a handful of filth 
 struck the back of the book and bespattered his face. 
 I saw !N'at whip out his sword and swing about an- 
 grily in the direction of the shot, while the two 
 women laid hands on either arm to check him ; and 
 at the same moment my father spoke up sharply in 
 my ear. 
 
 " Tumble out, lad," he commanded. " We are in 
 bare time." 
 
 I vaulted over the window-ledge and dropped into 
 the street; my father after me, and Mr. Fett and 
 Billy close behind. Indeed, that first shot had but 
 given the signal for a general engagement; and, as 
 we picked ourselves up and thrust our way into the 
 crowed, a whole volley of filth bespattered the group 
 of Methodists. In particular I noted the man with 
 whom Nat Fiennes, a minute since, had been con- 
 versing — a little bald-headed fellow of about fifty- 
 
 125
 
 SIR JOHN CO^^STAXTINE 
 
 five or sixty, in a suit of black which, even at thirty 
 paces distant, showed rusty in the sunshine. An egg 
 had broken against his forehead^ and the yellow of 
 it trickled down over his eyes; yet he stood, hat in 
 hand, neither yielding pace nor offering to resist. 
 Nat, less patient, had made a rush upon the crowd, 
 which had closed around and swallowed him from 
 sight. By its violent swaying he was giving it some- 
 thing to digest. One of the two women shrank ter- 
 rified by the base of the lamp-post. The other — a 
 virago to look at, with eyes that glared from under 
 the pent of her black bonnet — had pulled the grey- 
 headed preacher down by his coat-tails, and, mount- 
 ing in his room, clung with an arm around the lamp- 
 post and defied the persecutors. 
 
 " Why am I here, friends ? " she challenged them. 
 " O generation of vipers, why am I here ? Answer 
 me, you men of Belial — you, whose fathers slew the 
 prophets ! Because I glory to suffer for the right ; 
 because to turn the other cheek is a Christian's duty, 
 and as a Christian woman I'll turn it though you 
 were twice the number, and not be afraid what man 
 can do unto me." 
 
 Now my father was well known in Falmouth and 
 pretty generally held in awe. At sight of him ad- 
 vancing, the throng fell back and gave us passage 
 in a sudden lull which reached even to where Nat 
 
 12G
 
 THE COMPANY OF THE ROSE 
 
 Fiennes struggled in the grasp of a dozen longshore- 
 men who were haling him to the quay's edge, to fling 
 him over. He broke loose, and before they could 
 seize him again came staggering back, panting and 
 dishevelled. 
 
 " Prosper ! " he cried, catching sight of me, and 
 grinning delightedly all over his muddied face. " I 
 knew you would come! And your father, too? — 
 splendid, lad, splendid ! " 
 
 " Ye men of Falmouth " — the woman by the 
 lamp-post lifted her voice more shrilly — " what shall 
 I testify of the hardness of your hearts? Shall I 
 testify that your Mayor, sending his crier round, has 
 threatened to whip us through Falmouth streets at 
 the cart-tail? Shall I testify " 
 
 But here my father lifted a hand. " Gently, 
 madam; gently. I am not defending his Worship 
 if he issued any such proclamation ; but 'tis an an- 
 cient punishment for scolds, and I advise you to 
 lend him no colour of excuse." 
 
 " And who may you be, sir ? " she demanded, look- 
 ing down, angry, but checked in spite of herself by 
 my father's air of authority. 
 
 " One," he answered, " who has come to see fair 
 play, and who has — as you may see — for the moment 
 some little influence with this rabble 1 will con- 
 tinue to exert it while I can, if you on your part 
 
 127
 
 SIK JOHX COXSTANTINE 
 
 will forbear to provoke ; for the tongue, madam, has 
 its missiles as well as the hands." 
 
 " I thank joii, sir," said the grey-headed preacher, 
 stepping forward and thrusting a book into my fa- 
 ther's hands. " We had best begin with a hymn, 
 I think. I have some experience of the softening 
 power of music on these occasions." 
 
 " We wall sing," announced the woman, " that 
 beautiful hymn beginning, ' Into a world of ruffians 
 sent.' Common metre, my friends, and Sister Tre- 
 size will give the pitch: 
 
 ''Into a world of ruffians sent, 
 I walk on hostile ground " 
 
 My father bared his head and opened the hymn- 
 book ; the rest of us, bareheaded too, ranged ourselves 
 beside him ; and so we stood facing the mob while 
 the verses were sung in comparative quiet. The 
 words might be provocative, but few heard them. 
 The tune commanded an audience, as in Cornwall a 
 tune usually will. The true secret of the spell, how- 
 ever, lay in my father's presence and bearing. A 
 British crowd does not easily attack one whom it 
 knows as a neighbour and born superior ; and it paid 
 homage now to one who, having earned it all his life, 
 carelessly took it for granted. 
 
 " Begad, sir," said Mr. Fett in my ear, " and the 
 
 128
 
 THE CO.ALPANY OF THE ROSE 
 
 books say that the feudal system is dead in England ! 
 Why, here's the very flower of it ! Damme, though, 
 the old gentleman is splendid; superlative, sir; it's 
 ten to one against Coriolanus, and no takers. Be- 
 tween ourselves, Coriolanus was a pretty fellow, but 
 talked too much. Phocion, sir? Did I hear you 
 mention Phocion ? " 
 
 " You did not," I answered. 
 
 " And quite right," said he ; " with your father 
 running, I wouldn't back Phocion for a place. All 
 the same," Mr. Fett admitted, " this is what Mr. 
 Gray, of Peterhouse, Cambridge, would call a fear- 
 ful joy, and I'd be thankful for a distant prospect 
 of the way out of it." 
 
 " Indeed, sir " — my father, overhearing this, 
 turned to him affably — " you touch the weak spot. 
 For the moment I see no way out of the situation, 
 nor any chance but to prolong it; and even this," 
 he added, " will not be easy unless the lady on the 
 lamp-post sensibly alters the tone of her discourse.'* 
 
 Indeed, at the conclusion of the singing she had 
 started again to address the crowd, albeit — acting on 
 my father's hint — in more moderate tones, and even, 
 as I thought, somewhat tepidly. Her theme was 
 what she called convictions of sin, of which by her 
 own account she had wrestled with a surprising quan- 
 tity; but in the rehearsal of thoni, though fluent, she 
 
 129
 
 (I 
 ii 
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 seemed to lose heart as her hearers relaxed their 
 attention. 
 
 Confound the woman ! " grumbled my father. 
 
 She had done better, after all, to continue frantic. 
 The crowd came to be amused, and is growing restive 
 again." 
 
 " Sir," interposed Mr. Fett, " give me leave to as- 
 sure you that an audience may be amused and yet 
 throw things. Were this the time and place for 
 reminiscences, I could tell you a tale of Stony Strat- 
 ford (appropriately so-called, sir), where, as Juba in 
 Mr. Addison's tragedy of ' Cato,' for two hours I 
 piled the Pelion of passion upon the Ossa of elocu- 
 tionary correctness, still without surmounting the 
 zone of plant life ; which in the Arts, sir, must extend 
 higher than geographers concede. And yet I evoked 
 laughter ; from which I may conclude that my ef- 
 forts amused. The great Demosthenes, sir, practised 
 declamation with his mouth full of pebbles — for re- 
 taliatory purposes, I have sometimes thought." 
 
 Here my father, who had been paying no atten- 
 tion to Mr. Fett's discourse^ interrupted it with a 
 sharp but joyful exclamation ; and, glancing towards 
 him, I saw his face clear of anxiety. 
 
 " We are safe," he announced quietly, nodding in 
 the direction of the Three Cups. " What we wanted 
 was a fool, and we have found him." 
 
 130
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A MAYOR 
 
 Like the Mayor of Falmouth, who thanked God when the 
 Town Jail was enlarged. — Old Byword. 
 
 His nod was levelled at a horseman who had 
 ridden down the street and was pressing upon the 
 outskirts of the crowd : and this was no less a dig- 
 nitary than the Mayor of Falmouth, preceded on 
 foot by a beadle and two mace-bearers, all three of 
 them shouting " Way ! Make way for the Mayor ! " 
 with such effect that in less than half a minute the 
 crowd had divided itself to form a lane for them. 
 
 " Eh ? eh ? What is this ? What is the meaning 
 of all this ? " demanded his Worship magisterially, 
 as, having drawn rein, he fumbled in his tail pocket, 
 drew forth a pair of horn spectacles, adjusted them 
 on his nose, and glared round upon the throng. 
 
 " That, sir," answered my father stepping for- 
 ward, " is what we are waiting to learn." 
 
 " Sir John Constantine ? " The Mayor bowed 
 from his saddle. " You will pardon me, Sir John, 
 that for the moment T missed to recognise you. The 
 
 131
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 fact is, I suffer, Sir John, from some — er — short- 
 ness of sight : a grave inconvenience, at times, to one 
 in my position." 
 
 " Indeed ? " said my father gravely. " And yet, 
 as I have heard, 'tis a malady most incident to 
 borough magistrates." 
 
 " You don't say so? " The Mayor considered this 
 for a moment. " The visitations of Providence are 
 indeed inscrutable, Sir John. It would give me 
 pleasure to discuss them with you, on some — er — 
 more suitable occasion, if I might have the honour. 
 But as I was about to say, I am delighted to see 
 you, Sir John: your presence here will strengthen 
 my hands in dealing with this — er — unlawful as- 
 sembly." 
 
 " 7s this an unlawful assembly ? " my father asked. 
 
 " It is worse. Sir John ; it is far worse. I have 
 been studying the law, and the law admits of no 
 dubiety. It is unlawful assembly where three or 
 more persons meet together to carry out some private 
 enterprise in circumstances calculated to excite alarm. 
 Mark those words, Sir John — ' some private enter- 
 prise.' When the enterprise is not private but meant 
 to redress a public grievance, or to reform religion, 
 the offence becomes high treason." 
 
 " Does the law indeed say so ? " 
 It does. Sir John. The law, let me tell you, is 
 
 132 
 
 i(
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A MAYOR 
 
 very fierce against any reforming of religion. Nay 
 more, Sir John, under tlio first of King George the 
 First, statute two — I forget what chapter — by the 
 Act commonly called the Riot Act, it is enacted that 
 if a dozen or more go about reforming of religion or 
 otherwise upsetting the public peace and refuse to 
 go about their business within the space of one hour 
 after I tell 'em to, the same becomes felony without 
 benefit of clergy." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " exclaimed Billy Priske, pulling 
 off his hat and eyeing the rose in its band. 
 
 " And further," his Worship continued, " any man 
 wearing the badge or ensign of the rioters shall him- 
 self be considered a rioter without benefit of clergv'." 
 
 All this while the crowd had been pressing closer 
 and closer upon us, under compulsion (as it seemed) 
 of reinforcements from the waterside, the purlieus of 
 the Market Strand being, by now, so crowded that 
 men and women were crying out for room. At this 
 moment, glancing across the square, I was puzzled 
 to see a woman leaning forth from a first-floor win- 
 dow and dropping handfuls of artificial flowers upon 
 the heads of the throng. While I watched, she re- 
 tired — her hands being empty — came back with a 
 band-box, and scattered its contents broadcast, paus- 
 ing to blow a kiss towards the Mayor. 
 
 I plucked my father's sleeve to call his attention 
 
 133
 
 SIR JOHN" coxsta:n'Tixe 
 
 to this ; but he and the Major were engaged in ar- 
 gument, his Worship maintaining that the Metho- 
 dists — and my father that their assailants — ^were the 
 prime disturbers of the peace. 
 
 " And how, pray," asked my father, " are these 
 poor women to disperse, if your ruffians won't let 
 'em ? " 
 
 " As to that, sir, you shall see," promised the 
 ]Mayor, and turned to the town crier. " John Sprott, 
 call silence. Make as much noise about it as you 
 can, John Sprott. And you, iSTandy Daddo, catch 
 hold of mv horse's bridle, here." 
 
 He rose in his stirrups and, searching again in his 
 tail-pocket, drew forth a roll of paper. 
 
 " Silence ! " bawled the crier. 
 
 " Louder, if you please, John Sprott : louder, if 
 you can manage it! And say ' in the name of King 
 George,' John Sprott ; and wind up with ' God save 
 the King.' For without ' God save the King ' 'tis 
 no riot, and a man cannot be hanged for it. So be 
 very particular to say ' God save the King,' John 
 Sprott, and put 'em all in the wrong." 
 
 John Sprott bawled again, and this time achieved 
 the whole formula. 
 
 " That's better, John Sprott. And you — " his 
 AVorship turned upon the Methodists, " you just 
 listen to this, now: 
 
 134
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A MAYOR 
 " Our sovereign Lord the King " 
 
 Here, as the Methodists stood before him with 
 folded hands, a lump of filth flew past the Mayor's 
 ear and bespattered the lamp-post. 
 
 " Damme, who did that ? " his Worship demanded. 
 " John Sprott, who threw that muck ? " 
 
 " I don't know the man's name, your Worship: but 
 he's yonder, there, in a striped shirt open at the neck, 
 Avith a little round hat on the back of his head ; and, 
 what's more, I see'd him do it." 
 
 " Then take down his description, John Sprott, 
 and write that at the words ' Our sovereign Lord ' he 
 shied a lump of muck." 
 
 John Sprott pulled out a note-book and entered the 
 offence. 
 
 " And after ' muck,' John Sprott, write ' God save 
 the King.' I don't know that 'tis necessary, but 
 you'll be on the safe side." His Worship unfolded 
 the proclamation again, cleared his throat, and re- 
 sumed : 
 
 " Our sovereign Lord the King chargeth and rom- 
 mandeth all persons, being assembled, immediately 
 to disperse themselves and peaceably to depart to 
 their habitations or to their lawful business, upon the 
 pains contained in the Act made in the first year of 
 George the First for preventing " 
 
 A handful of more or less liquid mud here took 
 
 135
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 him on the nape of the neck and splashed over the 
 paper which he held in both hands. 
 
 " Arrest that man ! " he shouted, bouncing about 
 in a furj. At the same moment my father gripped 
 my elbow as a volley of missiles darkened the air, and 
 we fell back — all the company of the Rose — shoul- 
 der to shoulder, to protect the Methodists, as a small 
 but solid phalanx of men came driving through the 
 crowd with mischief in their faces. 
 
 " But wait awhile! wait awhile ! " called out Billy 
 Priske, as my father plucked out his sword. " These 
 be no enemies, master^ to us or the Methodies, but 
 honest sea-f ardingers — packet-men all- -and, look 
 you, with roses in their hats ! " 
 
 " Roses ? Faith, and so they have ! " cried my 
 father, lowering his guard. " But what the devil, 
 then, is the meaning of it ? " 
 
 He was answered on the moment. The official 
 whom his Worship called Nandy Daddo had made a 
 rush into the crowd, charging it with his mace as 
 with a battering-ram, and was in the act of clutching 
 the man who had thrown the filth, when the phalanx 
 of packet-men broke through and bore him down. A 
 moment later I saw his gold-laced hat fly skimming 
 over the heads of the throng, and his mace wrenched 
 from him and held aloft in the hands of a red-faced 
 man, who flourished it twice and rushed upon the 
 
 136
 
 TKIBULATIOXS OF A MAYOR 
 
 Mayor, shouting at the same time with all his lungs: 
 " TowTishends ! This way, Townshends ! " whereat 
 the packet-men cheered and pressed after him, driv- 
 ing the crowd of Falmouth to right and left. 
 
 Clearly what mischief they meant was intended 
 for the Mayor: and the Mayor, for a short-sighted 
 man, detected this very promptly. Also he showed 
 surprising agility in tumbling out of his saddle; 
 which he had scarcely done before the crupper re- 
 sounded with a whack, of which one of the borough 
 maces bears an eloquent dent to this day. 
 
 The Mayor, catching his toe in the stirrup as he 
 slipped off, staggered and fell at our feet. But the 
 body of his horse, interposed between him and the 
 rioters, protected him for an instant, and in that 
 instant my father and Xat Fiennes dragged him up 
 and thrust him to the rear while we faced the as- 
 sault. For now, and without a word said, the 
 Methodists were forgotten, and we of the Rose were 
 istanding for law and order against this other com- 
 pany of the Rose, of whose quarrel we knew nothing 
 at all. 
 
 Our attitude indeed, and the sight of drawn 
 swords (to oppose which they had no weapons but 
 short cudgels), appeared to take them aback for the 
 moment. The press, however, closing on us, as we 
 backed to cover the Mavor's retreat, offered less and 
 
 10 — 
 Oi
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 less occasion for sword-play; and, the seamen still 
 advancing and outnumbering us by about three to 
 one, the whole affair began to wear an ugly look. 
 
 At this juncture relief came to us in the strangest 
 fashion. I had clean forgotten the little Methodist 
 man in black ; whom, to be sure, I had no occasion 
 to remember but for the quiet resolution of his car- 
 riage as he had stood with the burst egg trickling 
 over his face. But now, to the surprise of us all, 
 he sprang forward upon the second mace-bearer, 
 snatched the mace from his hand and laid about him 
 in a sudden frenzy; at the first blow, delivered 
 unawares, catching the ringleader on the crown and 
 felling him like an ox. For a second, perhaps, he 
 stared, amazed at his own prowess, and with that 
 the lust of battle seized him. 
 
 He rained blows ; yet with cunning, running forth 
 and back into our ranks as each was delivered ; and 
 between the blows he capered, uttering shrill, inartic- 
 ulate cries. This diversion indeed saved us. For 
 the rabble, pressing up to see the fun, left a space 
 more or less clear on the far side of the Market 
 Strand, and for this space we stampeded, dragging 
 the Mayor along with us. 
 
 The next thing I remember was fighting side by 
 side with Nat before a door beneath the window 
 where I had seen the woman throwing down her 
 
 138
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A MAYOR 
 
 handfuls of artifieial flowers. The lower windows 
 were barred, but the door stood open ; and we fought 
 to defend it whilst my father lifted the Mayor of 
 Falmouth by his coat-collar and the seat of his 
 breeches and flunc; him inside. Then we too backed 
 and, ducking indoors under the arms of the little 
 man in black — who stood on the step swinging the 
 borough mace as though to scythe off the head of 
 any one who approached within five feet of it — seized 
 him by the coat-tails, dragged him inside and, slam- 
 ming-to the door (which shut with two flaps), locked 
 and bolted it and leant against it with all our weight. 
 
 Yet a common house-door is but a flimsy barricade 
 against a mob, especially if that mob be led by five- 
 and-twenty stout-bodied seamen. We had shut it 
 merely to gain time, and when the cudgels outside 
 began to play tattoo upon its upper panels I looked 
 for no more than a minute's respite at the best. 
 
 It puzzled me therefore when — and immediately 
 upon two ugly blows that had well-nigh shaken the 
 lock from its fastenings — the shouting suddenly sub- 
 sided into a confused hubbub of voices, followed by 
 a clang and rattle of arms upon the cobblestones. 
 This last sound appeared to hush the others into 
 silence. I stood listening, with my hip pressed 
 against the lock to hold it firm against the next con- 
 cussion. None came : but presently some one rapped 
 
 139
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 with his knuckles on the upper panel and a voice, 
 authoritative but civil enough, challenged us in the 
 name of King George to open. 
 
 To this I had almost answered bidding him go to 
 the devil, when a damsel put her head over the stair- 
 rail of the landing above and called down to us to 
 obey and open at once: and, looking up in the dim 
 light of the passage, I recognised her for the one who 
 had scattered the flowers, just now, to the rioters. 
 
 " Excuse me," said I, " but how shall I know you 
 are not playing us a trick ? " 
 
 " My good child," she replied, " open the door and 
 don't stand arguing. The riot is over and the square 
 full of military. The person who knocks is Captain 
 Bright of the Pendennis Garrison. If you don't be- 
 lieve me, step upstairs here and look out of window." 
 
 " My father — " I began. 
 
 " Your father is right enough, and so is that fool 
 of a Mayor — or will be when he has drunk down a 
 glass of cordial." 
 
 Nevertheless I would not obey her until I had sent 
 Nat Fiennes upstairs to look; who within a minute 
 called over the stair-head that the woman told the 
 truth and I had my father's leave to open. There- 
 upon I pulled open the upper flap of the door, and 
 stood blinking at a tall officer in gorgeous regi- 
 mentals. 
 
 140
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A :\rAYOIl 
 
 " Hullo ! " said he. " Good morning ! " 
 
 " Good morning ! " said T. " And forgive me that 
 I kept you waiting." 
 
 " Don't mention it," said he very affably. " My 
 fault entirely, for coming late ; or rather the Mayor's, 
 who sent word that we weren't needed. I took the 
 liberty to doubt this as soon as my sentries reported 
 that a couple of boats' crews were putting ashore 
 from the Townshend packet : and here we are in con- 
 sequence. Got him safe ? " 
 
 " The Mayor ? " said I. " Yes, I believe he is up- 
 stairs at this moment, drinking brandy-and-water 
 and pulling himself together." 
 
 The Captain grinned amiably. " Sorry to disturb 
 him," said he : " but the mob is threatening to burn 
 his house, and I'd best take him along to read the 
 Riot Act and put things ship-shape." 
 
 " He has read it already, or some part of it.'' 
 
 " Some part of it won't do. He must read the 
 whole proclamation, not forgetting ' God save the 
 King.' " 
 
 " If you can find the paper," said I, " there's a 
 lump of mud on it, marking the place where he left 
 off." 
 
 The Captain grinned again. " I doubt he'll have 
 to begin afresh after breaking off to drink brandy- 
 and-water with Moll Whiteaway. For a chief mag- 
 
 141
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAXTIXE 
 
 istrate that will need some explaining. And yet," 
 mused the Captain as he stepped into the passage, 
 " YOU may have done him a better turn than ever you 
 guessed; for, when the mob sees the humour of it, 
 belike it'll be more for laughing than setting fire to 
 his house." 
 
 " But who is Moll Whiteaway ? " I asked. 
 He stared at me. " You mean to say you didn't 
 know ? " he asked slowlv. " You didn't bring him 
 here for a joke ? " 
 
 " A joke ? " I echoed. " A mighty queer joke, sir, 
 you'd have thought it, if your men had been five min- 
 utes earlier." 
 
 He leaned back against the wall of the passage. 
 " And you brought him here by accident ? Well, if 
 this don't beat cock-fighting! " 
 
 " But who is this Moll Whiteaway ? " I repeated. 
 The question again seemed to take his breath 
 away. For answer he could only point to a small 
 brass plate in the lower flap of the door ; and, stoop- 
 ing, I r.ead: Miss Whiteaway, Milliner, Modes and 
 Robes. 
 
 " Oh ! " said I. " That accounts for the band-box 
 of flowers." 
 
 " Does it ? " he asked. 
 
 " She flung them out of window to the packet- 
 
 men." 
 
 142
 
 TRTBULATIOXS OF A :\rAYOr. 
 
 " Which, doubtless, seemed to you an everyday 
 proceeding — just a milliner's usual way of getting 
 rid of her summer stock. My good young sir, did 
 you ever hear tell of a ' troacher ' ? Xay, spare that 
 ingenuous blush : Moll is a loose fish, but I mean 
 less than your modesty suspects. A ' troacher ' is a 
 kind of female smuggler that disposes of the goods 
 the packet-men bring home in their bunks ; and Moll 
 Whiteaway is the head of the profession in Fal- 
 mouth. Now our worthy Mayor took oath the other 
 day to put down this smuggling on board the packets ; 
 and he began yesterday with the Toiunshend. He 
 and the Port Searcher swept the ship, sir. They dug 
 Portuguese brandy in kegs out of the seamen's beds 
 and parcels of silk out of the very beams. They 
 shook two case-bottles out of the chaplain's breeches, 
 which must have galled him sorely in his devotions. 
 They netted close on two hundred pounds worth of 
 contraband in the fo'c's'le alone " 
 
 " Good Heavens ! " I interjected. " And as the 
 riot began he was calling himself short-sighted ! " 
 
 Captain Bright laughed, clapped me on the shoul- 
 der, and led the way upstairs, where (strange to say) 
 we found the Mayor again deploring his defective 
 vision. He lay in an easy chair amid an army of 
 band-boxes, bonnet-stands, and dummies representing 
 the female iigure; and sipped Miss Whiteaway's 
 
 143
 
 SIR JOim CONSTAXTIXE 
 
 brandy while he discoursed in broken sentences to an 
 audience consisting of that lady, my father, Nat 
 Fiennes, Mr. Fett, and the little man in black (who, 
 by the way, did not appear to be listening, but 
 stood and pondered the borough mace, which he held 
 in his hands, turning it over and examining the 
 dents). 
 
 " It is a great draw^back, Sir John — a great draw- 
 back," his Worship lamented. " A man in my posi- 
 tion, sir, should have the eye of an eagle; instead 
 of which on all public occasions I have to rely on 
 John Sprott. My good woman " — he turned to Miss 
 Whiteaway — " would you mind taking a glance out 
 of window and telling me what has become of John 
 Sprott?" 
 
 " He's down below under protection of the sol- 
 diers," announced Miss Whiteaway ; " and no harm 
 done but his hat lost and his gown split up the 
 back." 
 
 " I shall never have the same confidence in John 
 Sprott. He takes altogether too sanguine a view of hu- 
 man nature. Why, only last November — you remem- 
 ber the great gale of November the first, Sir John? 
 I was very active in burying the poor bodies brought 
 ashore next day and for several days after; for, as 
 you remember, a couple of Indymen dragged their 
 anchors and broke up under Pendennis Battery : and 
 
 144
 
 TlilBULxVTIONS OF A MAYOK 
 
 John Sprott said to me in the most assured way, 
 * The town'U never forget your kindness, sir. You 
 mark my words,' he said, ' this here action will stand 
 you upon the pinnacles of honour till you and me 
 meets, if I may respectfully say it, and sits us down 
 in the land of marrow and fatness.' After that you'd 
 have thought a man might count on some popularity. 
 But what happened ? A day or two later — that is 
 to say, on November the fifth — I was sitting in my 
 shop with a magnifying-glass in my eye, cleaning out 
 a customer's watch, when in walked half a dozen boys 
 carrying a man's body between 'em. You could tell 
 that life was extinct by the way his head hung back 
 and his legs trailed limp on the floor as they brought 
 him in, and his face looked to me terribly swollen 
 and discoloured. ' Dear, dear ! ' said I. ' What ? 
 Another poor soul ? Take hira up to the mortewary, 
 that's good boys,' I said ; ' and you shall have two- 
 pence apiece out of the poor-box.' How d'ye think 
 they answered me ? They bust out a-laughing, and 
 cries one : ' If you please, sir, 'tis meant for you ! 
 'Tis the fifth of November, and we'm goin' to burn 
 you in effigy.' I chased 'em out of the shop, and 
 later on in the day I spoke to John Sprott about it. 
 ' Well, now,' said John Sprott, ' I passed a lot of 
 boys just now, burning a guy at the top of the Moor, 
 and I had my suspicions; but the thing hadn't a 
 
 145
 
 SIR JOIIX COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 feature of yours to take hold on, barrin' the size of 
 its feet.' And that's what you call popularity ! " 
 wound up the Mayor with bitterness. " That's what 
 a man gets for rising early and lying down late to 
 serve his country ! " 
 
 '' Excuse me, Mr. Mayor," put in Captain Bright, 
 " but they are threatening to burn worse than your 
 effigy: in fact I heard some talk of setting fire to 
 your house and shop. Xay," he went on as the Mayor 
 bounced up to his feet, " there's no real cause for 
 alarm. I have sent on my lieutenant with fifty men 
 to keep the mob on the move, and have stationed a 
 dozen outside here to escort you home." 
 
 " The Riot Act — where's my Riot Act ? " cried 
 his Worship, searching his pockets desperately. " I 
 never read out ' God save the King,' and without 
 ' God save the King ' a man may burn all my valy- 
 bles and make turbulent gestures and show of arms, 
 and harry and murder to the detriment of the public 
 peace^ and refuse to move on when requested, and 
 all the time in the eyes of the law be a babe unborn. 
 Where's the Riot Act, I say? for without it I'm 
 a lost man and good-bye to Falmouth ! " 
 
 " Then 'tis lucky that I came provided with a 
 copy," Captain Bright produced a paper from the 
 breast of his tunic. 
 
 The Mayor took it with trembling hands and read. 
 
 146
 
 TPtlBTn.ATTOXS OF A MAYOR 
 
 "Why, 'tis a duplicity!" he cried. "A very du- 
 plicity ! and, what's more, printed in the same lan- 
 guage word for word ! " He caught the mace from 
 the little man in black. " Lead the way, Captain : 
 lead the way : and blessings on the man that first in- 
 vented duplicities ! " 
 
 147
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 I ENLIST AN ARMY 
 
 If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I am a soused gurnet. 
 
 — Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 My father turned to me as they descended the 
 stair. " This is all very well, lad/' said he, " but 
 we have yet to find our army. After the murder of 
 Julius Csesar, now " 
 
 " I did enact Julius Csesar once," quoted Mr. Fett 
 in parenthesis. " I was killed i' the capitol ; Brutus 
 killed me." 
 
 My father frowned. " After the murder of Julius 
 Caesar, when the mob for two days had Rome at their 
 mercy, I have read somewhere that two men ap- 
 peared out of nowhere, and put themselves at the 
 head of the rioters. None knew them ; but so boldly 
 they comported themselves, heading the charges, 
 marshalling the ranks, here throwing up barricades, 
 there plucking down doors and gates, breaking open 
 the prisons, and setting fire to private houses, that 
 presently the whisper spread they were Castor and 
 Pollux; till, at length, falling into the hands of the 
 
 148
 
 1 EXLIST AN ARMY 
 
 tiediles, these dioscuri were found to be two poor 
 lunatics escaped from a house of detention. Tf we 
 could discover another such pair among the mob, 
 now!" 
 
 " We are wasting time here for certain," said I. 
 " And where, by the way, is Billy Priske ? " 
 
 " If you waste your time upstairs here, gentle- 
 men," said Miss Whiteaway, " belike you may do 
 better in the parlour, where I had prepared for 
 some friends of mine with two-three chickens and a 
 ham." 
 
 " Ah, to be sure! " said I; "the packet-men." 
 
 " Never you worry, young sir," she answered 
 tartly, " so long as they don't mind eating after their 
 betters. And as for your man Priske, I saw him 
 twenty minutes ago escape towards Church Street 
 with the Methodists." 
 
 " Hang it ! " put in Nat Fiennes, " if I hadn't 
 clean forgotten the Methodists ! " 
 
 " We left them scurvily," said I, " every Jack 
 and Jill of them but our friend here." I nodded 
 towards the little man in black. " And he not only 
 saved himself, but w^as half the battle." 
 
 The little man seemed to come out of himself with 
 a start, and gazed from one to another of us per- 
 plexedly. 
 
 " Excuse me, gentlemen." He drew himself up 
 
 149
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 with dignity. " Do my ears deceive me, or are you 
 mistaking me for a Methodist ? " 
 
 " Indeed, and are yon not, sir ? " asked my father. 
 
 " Why, good God, gentlemen ! — if you'll excuse 
 me — but I'm the parish clerk of Axminster ! " 
 
 My father recovered himself with a bow. " In 
 Devon ? " he asked gravely, after a pause in which 
 our silence paid tribute to the announcement. 
 
 " In Devon, sir ; a county remarkable for its at- 
 tachment to the principles of the Church of England. 
 And that I should have lived to be mistaken for a 
 Methodist!" 
 
 " But, surely, John Wesley himself is a Clerk in 
 Holy Orders ? and, I have heard, a great stickler for 
 the Church's authority." 
 
 " He may say so, sir," answered the little man 
 darkly. " He may say so. But, if he means it, why 
 does he go about encouraging such a low class of 
 people ? A man, sir, is known by the company he 
 keeps." 
 
 " Is that in the Bible ? " my father inquired. " I 
 seem to remember, on the contrary, that in the mat- 
 ter of consorting with publicans and sinners " 
 
 " It won't work, sir. It has been tried in Ax- 
 minster before now, and you may take my word for 
 it that it won't work. You mustn't suppose, gentle- 
 men," he went on, including us all in the argument, 
 
 150
 
 I ENLIST AN ARMY 
 
 " you mustn't take me for one of those parrot-Chris- 
 tians who just echo what they hear in the pulpits on 
 Sundays. I think about these things ; and I find that 
 your extreme doctrines may do all very well for the 
 East and for hot countries where you can go about 
 half-naked and nobody takes any notice ; but the 
 Church of England, as its name implies, is the only 
 Church for England. A truly Christian Church, 
 gentlemen, because it selects its doctrines from the 
 Gospels; and English, sir, to the core, because it 
 selects 'em with a special view to the needs of our 
 beloved country. And what (if T may so put it) 
 is the basis of that selection ? The same, sirs, which 
 we all admit to be the basis of England's welfare 
 and the foundation of her society ; in other words, 
 the land. The land, gentlemen, is solid ; and our 
 reformed religion (say what you will, I am not 
 denying that it has, and will ever have, its de- 
 tractors) is the religion for solid Englishmen." 
 
 My father put out a han^ and arrested Mr. Fett, 
 who had been regarding the speaker with joyful ad- 
 miration, and at this point made a movement to 
 embrace him. 
 
 " I must have his name ! " murmured Mr. Fett. 
 '' He shall at least tell us his name ! " 
 
 " Bad cock, sir; Ebenezer Badcock," answered the 
 little man, producing a black-edged visiting-card. 
 
 151
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " But/' urged mj father, " you must forgive us, 
 Mr. Badcock, if we find it hard to reconcile your 
 conduct this morning with these sentiments, on 
 which, for the moment, I offer no comment except 
 that they are admirably expressed. What song the 
 Sirens sang, Mr. Badcock, or what name Achilles 
 assumed when he hid himself among women, are 
 questions (as Sir Thomas Browne observes) not be- 
 yond conjecture, albeit the Emperor Tiberius posed 
 his grammarians with 'em. But when a man openly 
 champions street-preaching, and goes on to lay about 
 him with a mace " 
 
 " Ah ! " exclaimed Mr. Badcock with sudden 
 eagerness. " And what — ^by the way, sir — did you 
 think of that performance ? " 
 
 " Why, to be sure, you behaved valiantly." 
 
 The little man blushed with pleasure. " You 
 really think so ? It struck you in that light, did it ? 
 Well, now I am glad — yes, sir, and proud — to hear 
 that opinion ; because, to tell you the truth, I thought 
 it pretty fair myself. The fact is, gentlemen, I 
 wasn't altogether sure what my behaviour would be 
 at the critical moment. You may deem it strange 
 that a man should arrive at my time of life without 
 being sure whether he's a coward or a brave man ; 
 but Axminster — if you knew the place — affords few 
 opportunities for that sort of thing." 
 
 152
 
 I ENLIST AN ARMY 
 
 '' Allow us to reassure you, then," said my father. 
 " But there remains the question, why you did it ? " 
 
 Mr. Badcock rubbed his hands. " Appearances 
 were against me, I'll allow," he answ-ered with a 
 bashful chuckle ; " but you may set it down to tchiv- 
 alry. We all have our weaknesses, I hope, sir; and 
 tchivalry is mine." 
 
 " Chivalry ? " echoed my father. 
 
 " You spell it with an ' s ' ? Excuse me ; whatever 
 schooling I have picked up has been at odd times; 
 but I am always open to correction, I thank the 
 Lord." 
 
 " But why call it a weakness, Mr. Badcock ? " 
 
 " Call it a hobby ; call it what you like. / look 
 upon it as a debt, sir, due to the memory of my late 
 wife. An admirable woman, sir, and by name 
 Artemisia; which, I have sometimes thought, may 
 partially account for it. Allow me, gentlemen." He 
 drew a small shagreen case from his breast-pocket, 
 opened it, and displayed a miniature. 
 
 " Her portrait ? " 
 
 " In a sense. As a matter of fact, I will not con- 
 ceal from you, gentlemen, that it came to me in the 
 form of a pledge — that being my late profession — 
 and I have never been able to trace the original. 
 But, as I said when first I showed it to the late Mrs. 
 B.. ' My dear, you might have sat for it.' A well- 
 
 153
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 developed woman, gentlemen, though in the end she 
 went out like the snuff of a candle, that being the 
 way sometimes with people who have never known 
 an hour's sickness. ' Am I really like that, Eben- 
 ezer ? ' she asked. ' In your prime, my dear,' said I 
 — she having married me late in life owing to her 
 romantic nature — ' in your prime, my dear, I'll defy 
 any one to tell you and this party from two peas.* 
 ' I wish I knew who she was,' said my wife. 
 ' Hadn't you best leave well alone ? ' said I ; ' for 
 I declare till this moment I hadn't dreamed that an- 
 other such woman as yourself existed in the world, 
 and it gives me a kind of bigamous feeling which 
 I can't say I find altogether unpleasant.' ' Then 
 I'll keep the thing,' says she very positively, ' un- 
 til the owner turns up and redeems it ; ' which 
 he never did, being, as I discovered, a strolling 
 portrait painter very much down on his luck. So 
 there the mystery remained. But (as I was tell- 
 ing you), though a first-rate manager, my poor 
 dear wife had a number of romantic notions ; and 
 often she has said to me after I'd shut up shop, 
 ' If wishes grew on brambles, Ebenezer, it's not a 
 pawnbroker's wife I'd be at this moment.' ' Well, 
 my dear,' I'd say to soothe her, ' there is a little 
 bit of that about the profession, now you come 
 to mention it.' ' And there was a time,' she'd go on, 
 
 154
 
 I ENLIST AN ARMY 
 
 * when I dreamed of marryin' a red-cross kniglit ! ' 
 ' I have my higher moments, Artemisia,' I'd say half 
 in joke. ' Why not try shutting your eyes ? ' But 
 afterwards, when that splendid woman was gone for 
 ever, and my daughter Ilecb (which is a classical 
 name given her by her mother) comfortably married 
 to a wholesale glover, and me left at home a solitary 
 grandfather — which, proud as you may be of it, is 
 a slight occupation — I began to think things over 
 and find there was more in my poor wife's notions 
 than I'd ever allowed. And the upshot was that 
 seeing this advertisement by chance in a copy of the 
 Sherborne Messenger, I determined to shut up shop 
 and let Axminster think I was gone on a holiday, 
 while I gave it a trial; for, you see, I was not al- 
 together sure of myself." 
 
 " Excuse me, Badcock," interrupted Mr. Fett, ad- 
 vancing towards him with outstretched arms ; " but 
 have you perused the books of chivalry, or is this 
 the pure light of nature ? " 
 
 " Books, sir? " answered Mr. Badcock seriously. 
 " I never knew there were any books about it. I 
 never heard of tchivalry except from my late wife; 
 and you'll excuse the force of habit, but she pro- 
 nounced it the same as in chibbles." 
 
 " You never read of the meeting of Amadis and 
 Sir Galaor?" 
 
 155
 
 Sm JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 Mr. Badcock shook his head. 
 
 " Nor of Percival and Galahad, nor of Sir Balin 
 and Sir Balan ? No ? Then embrace me ! " 
 
 " Sir ? " 
 
 " Embrace me ! " 
 
 " Sit do-rtTi, the pair of you," my father com- 
 manded. " I have a proposal to make, which, if I 
 mistake not, will interest you both. Mr. Badcock, 
 I have heard your aspirations, and can fulfil them 
 in a degree that will surprise you. I like you, Mr. 
 Badcock." 
 
 " The feeling, sir, is mutchual." Mr. Badcock 
 bowed with much amiability. 
 
 " Is time an object with you ? " 
 
 " None whatever, sir. I am on a holiday." 
 
 " Will you be my guest to-night ? " 
 
 " With the more pleasure, sir, after my experience 
 of the inns in these parts. Though I may have pre- 
 sented her to you in a somewhat romantic light, 
 my Artemisia did know how to make a bed ; and 
 twenty-two years of her ministrations, not to men- 
 tion her companionship, have coddled me in this par- 
 ticular." 
 
 " And you, sir " — my father turned to Mr. Fett — 
 " will you accompany us ? " 
 
 " With what ulterior object ? " demanded Mr. 
 Fett. " You will excuse my speaking as a business 
 
 156
 
 I ENLIST AN ARMY 
 
 man, and overlook the damned bad manners of the 
 question for the sake of its appropriateness." 
 
 My father smiled. " Why, sir, I was proposing to 
 invite yon to a sea voyage with me." 
 
 " There was a time, before commerce claimed me, 
 when the mere hint of a nautical expedition had 
 evoked an emotion which, if it survive at all, lingers 
 but as in a sea-shell the whisper of the parent ocean." 
 
 " As a supercargo, at four shillings per diem" 
 suggested my father. 
 
 "Say no more, sir; I agree." 
 
 " As for Mr. Fiennes — nay, lad, I remember you 
 well." My father turned to him with that sweet 
 courtesy which few ever resisted. " And blush not, 
 lad, if I guess that to you we all owe this meeting: 
 'twere a bravery well beseeming your blood. As for 
 Mr. Fiennes, he will accompany us in heart if he 
 cannot in presence — being, as I understand, destined 
 for the law ? " 
 
 " Why, sir, as for that," stammered Nat, " I have 
 had the devil's own dispute with my father." 
 
 " You treated him with all respect, I hope ? " 
 
 " With all the respect in the world, sir. But it 
 scarcely matters, since he has cast me off, and with- 
 out a penny." 
 
 " Why, then, you can come too ! " cried my father, 
 gi'ipping him by the hand. "Bravo, Prosper! that 
 
 157
 
 SIR JOHA^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 makes five; and with Billy Priske, when we can 
 find him, six ; and that leaves but one to find before 
 dinner-time." He pulled out his watch. " Lord ! " 
 he cried, " and 'tis high time to feel hungry, too. 
 If this lady now will repeat her hospitable offer " 
 
 I thought at the moment, and I thought once or 
 twice during the meal downstairs, that my father 
 was taxing this poor woman's hospitality. I doubted 
 that he, himself so carelessly hospitable, might for- 
 get to offer her payment; and lingered after the 
 others had trooped into the passage, with purpose to 
 remind him privately. 
 
 " Come," said he, and made a motion to leave, 
 still without offering to pay. On the threshold I 
 had almost turned to whisper to him when the woman 
 came after and touched his arm. 
 
 " ISTay, Sir John," said she eagerly in a low, hoarse 
 voice, " let the lad hear me thank you. He is old 
 enough to understand and clean enough to profit. 
 Shut the door, child. You know me. Sir John ? " 
 
 My father bent his head. " I never forget a face," 
 said he quietly. 
 
 " Take notice of that, boy. Your father remem- 
 bers me, whom to my knowledge he never saw but 
 once, and then as a magistrate, when he sat to judge 
 me. Never mind the offence, lad. I am a sinful 
 
 woman, and the punishment was " 
 
 158
 
 I ENLIST AX ARMY 
 
 " Nay, nay ! " put in my father gently. 
 
 " The punishment was," she continued, harden- 
 ing her voice, " to strip me to the waist and whip 
 me in public. The law allowed this, and this they 
 would have done to me. But your father, being 
 chairman of the bench — for the offence lav outside 
 the borough — would have none of it, and argued and 
 forced three other magistrates to give way. Little 
 good he did, you may say, seeing that my name is 
 such in Falmouth that, only by entering my door, the 
 Mayor just now did what all his cleverness could 
 never have done — stopped a riot by a silly, brutal 
 laugh — the chief magistrate taking shelter with Moll 
 Whiteaway! You can't get below that for fun, as 
 the folk will take it ; and yet I say your father did 
 good, for he saved me from the worst. And to-day 
 of his goodness he has not remembered my sins, but 
 treated me as though they were not ; and to-day, 
 as only a good man can, he goes from my house, 
 no man thinking to laugh except at his simplicity, 
 even though it were known that I kissed his hand. 
 God bless you. Sir John, and teach your son to be 
 merciful to women ! " 
 
 My father was ever so shy of his owti kind actions 
 that, when detected by chance or painfully tracked 
 out in one, he kept always a quotation ready to 
 justify what pure impulse had prompted. So now, 
 
 159
 
 SIR JOH^^ COXSTAXTINE 
 
 as we hurried across the deserted Market Strand to 
 catch up with the other three, he must needs brazen 
 things out with the authority of Bishop Taylor. 
 
 " It was a maxim of that excellent divine," said 
 he, " that Christian censure should never be used to 
 make a sinner desperate; for then he either sinks 
 under the burden or grows impudent and tramples 
 upon it. A charitable, modest remedy (says he) 
 preserves that which is virtue's girdle — fear and 
 blushing. Honour, dear lad, is the peculiar coun- 
 sellor of well-bred natures, and these are few; but 
 almost in all men you will find a certain modesty 
 towards sin, and were I a king my judges should be 
 warned that their duty is to chasten; whereas by 
 punishing immoderately they can but effect the exact 
 opposite." 
 
 We found our trio waiting for us on the far side 
 of the square ; and, having fetched our horses and 
 left an order at the inn for Billy Priske on his re- 
 turn to mount and follow us, wended our way out 
 of the town. The streets on this side were deserted 
 and mournful, the shopkeepers having fastened their 
 shutters for fear of the mob, of whose present doings 
 no sound reached us but a faint murmuring hubbub 
 borne on the afternoon air from the north-east — 
 that is, from the direction of the Green Bank and the 
 Penryn Road. 
 
 160
 
 I ENLIST AN ARMY 
 
 My father led the way at a foot's pace, and seemed 
 to ride pondering, for his chin was sunk on his 
 chest, and he had pulled his hat-hrini well over his 
 eyes (but this may have been against the July sun). 
 After him tramped Mr, Fett in eager converse with 
 the little pawnbroker, now questioning him shrilly, 
 now halting to regard him with mute ecstasy, in a 
 trance of holy joy, as a man who has dug up a sud- 
 den treasure and for the moment can only gaze at 
 it and hug himself. Nat and I brought up the rear, 
 he striding at my stirrup and pouring forth the tale 
 of his adventures since we parted. A dozen times 
 he rehearsed the scene of the parental quarrel, and 
 interrupted each rehearsal with a dozen anxious 
 questions. Ought he to have given this answer? — 
 to have uttered that defiance ? Did I think he had 
 shown self-control? Had he treated the old gentle- 
 man with becoming respect ? Would I put myself 
 in his place ? Suppose it had been my o^vn father, 
 now 
 
 " But yours, lad, is a father in a thousand," he 
 broke off bitterly. " I had never a notion that father 
 and son could be friends, as are you and he. He is 
 splendid — splendid ! " 
 
 I glanced at him quickly and turned my face aside, 
 suspecting that he took my father for a madman, and 
 was kindly concealing the discovery. Nevertheless I 
 
 161
 
 SIE JOHN CONSTAXTINE 
 
 hardened my voice to answer, " You will say so when 
 you know him better. And my uncle Gervase runs 
 him a good second." 
 
 " Faith, then, I wish you'd persuade your uncle 
 to adopt me. I'm not envious, Prosper, in a general 
 way, but your luck gives me a deuced orphanly feel- 
 ing. Have I been over-hasty ? That is the question ; 
 whether 'twas nobler in the mind to suffer the slings 
 and arrows of accusing conscience or to up and have 
 it out with the old man." 
 
 " Pardon me, gentlemen " — Mr. Fett wheeled 
 about suddenly on the road ahead of us — " but it 
 was by accident that I overheard you, and by a singu- 
 lar coincidence at that moment I happened to be 
 discussing the same subject with Mr. Badcock here." 
 
 "What subject?" 
 
 " Missiles, sir. It appears that, when his blood 
 is up, Mr. Badcock finds himself absolutely careless 
 of missiles. He declares that, with a sense of smell 
 as acute as most men's, he was unaware to-day of 
 having been struck with a rotten egg until I, at ten 
 paces' distance, drew his attention to it. Now that 
 is a degree of courage — insensibility — call it what 
 you will — to which I make no pretence. The cut and 
 thrust, gentlemen, the couched lance, even (within 
 limits) the battering-ram, would have (I feel confi- 
 dent) comparatively few terrors for me. But mis- 
 
 1G2
 
 I EXLTST A^^ ARMY 
 
 siles I abominate. Drawing, as I am bound to do, 
 my anticipations of the tented field from experience 
 gathered — I say it literally, gathered — before the 
 footlights, I confess to some sympathy with the gen- 
 tleman who assured Harry Percy that but for these 
 vile guns he would himself have been a soldier. You 
 will not misunderstand me. I believe on my faith 
 that as a military man I w^as born out of my time. 
 The scythed chariots of Boadicea, for instance, must 
 have been damned inconvenient; yet I can conceive 
 myself jumping 'em. But a stone, as I learnt in my 
 
 boyhood — a stone, sirs, and a fortiori a bullet " 
 
 " Hist ! " broke in mv father, at the same moment 
 reining up. " Prosper, what do you make of that 
 noise up yonder? " 
 
 I listened. " It sounds to me, sir, like a heavy 
 
 cart " 
 
 " Or a waggon. To my hearing there are two 
 horses." 
 
 " And runaway ones, by the shouting." 
 We had reached a point of the road (not far from 
 home) where a steep lane cut across it: a track sel- 
 dom used but scored with old ruts, sunk between 
 hedges full sixteen feet high, leading doA\Ti from a 
 back gate of Constantine and a deserted lodge to a 
 quay by the waterside. Xot once in three months, 
 within my remembrance, did cart or waggon pass 
 
 163
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 along this lane, which indeed grew a fine crop of 
 grass and docks between the ruts. 
 
 " Nay," said my father after a few seconds, " I 
 gave you a false alarm, gentlemen. The shouting, 
 whatever it means, is over. Your pardon, Mr. Fett, 
 that I interrupted you." 
 
 " 'Naj, sir," said Mr. Eett, stepping past him to 
 reconnoitre the lane, " I was but remarking what a 
 number of the wise have observed before me, that a 
 stone which has left the hand is in the hands of 
 the dev " 
 
 He ducked his head with a cry as a stone whizzed 
 past and within a foot of it. On the instant the 
 loud rattle and thunder of cartwheels broke forth 
 again, and now but a short distance up the lane ; also 
 a voice almost as loudly vociferating; and, almost 
 before Mr. Fett could run back to us, a whole volley 
 of stones flew hurtling across the road. 
 
 " Hi, there ! Halt ! " My father struck spur and 
 rode forward, in time to catch at and check the 
 leader of two horses slithering down-hill tandem- 
 fashion before the weight of a heavy cart. " Con- 
 found you, sir! What the devil d'you mean by 
 flinging stones in this manner across the middle of 
 the King's highway ? " 
 
 The man — he was one of the seamen of the Gaunt- 
 Icf —stood up in the cart upon a load of stones and 
 
 164
 
 I ENLIST AN ARMY 
 
 grinned. In one hand he gripped the reins, in the 
 other a fistful of flints. 
 
 " Your honour's pardon," said he, lifting his fore- 
 arm and drawing the back of it across his dripping 
 brow, " but the grey mare for'rad won't pull, and 
 the whip here won't reach her. I couldn't think 
 upon no better way." 
 
 " You mean to tell me you have been pelting that 
 poor brute all down the lane ? " 
 
 " I couldn't think upon no better way," the sea- 
 man repeated wistfully, almost plaintively. " She's 
 what you might call sensitive to stones." 
 
 " Intelligent beast ! " commented Mr. Fett. 
 
 " And I bought that mare only six months ago ! " 
 In truth my father had found the poor creature wan- 
 dering the roads and starving, cast off by her owner 
 as past w^ork, and had purchased her out of mere hu- 
 manity for thirty shillings. 
 
 " But what business have you to be driving my 
 cart and horses ? " he demanded. " And what's the 
 meaning of these stones you're carting ? " 
 
 " Ballast, your honour." 
 
 "Ballast?" 
 
 " I don't know how much of it'll ever arrive at 
 this rate," confessed the seaman, dropping the hand- 
 ful of flints and scratching his head. " 'Tis buying 
 speed at a terrible cost of jettison. But Cap'n 
 
 165
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTlisFE 
 
 Pomery's last order to me was to make haste about 
 it if we're to catch to-morrow's tide." 
 
 " Captain Pomerj sent you for these stones ? " 
 
 " Why, Lord love your honour, a vessel can't dis- 
 charge two dozen Papist monks and cattle and im- 
 plements to correspond without wantin' something in 
 their place. T^ice flat stones, too, the larger-sized be, 
 and not liable to shift in a sea-way." 
 
 But here another strange noise drew our eyes up 
 the lane, as an old man in a smock frock — a pen- 
 sioner of the estate, and by name John Worthyvale — 
 came hobbling round the corner and down the hill 
 towards us, using his long-handled road hammer for 
 a staff and uttering shrill, tremulous cries of rage. 
 
 " Vengeance, Sir John ! Vengeance for my I'il 
 heap o' stones ! " 
 
 " Why, Worthyvale, what's the matter ? " asked 
 my father soothingly. 
 
 " My I'il heap o' stones, Sir John ; my poor I'il 
 heap o' stones ! What's to become o' me, master ? 
 Where will your kindness find a bellyful for me, 
 if these murderin' seamen take away my I'il heap 
 o' stones ? " 
 
 My father laid a hand on the old man's shoulder. 
 
 " Captain Pomery wants them for ballast, Worthy- 
 vale. You understand ? It appears he can find none 
 so suitable." 
 
 166
 
 I EXLIST A^ ARMY 
 
 " No, I don't understand ! " exclaimed the old fel- 
 low fiercely. " This has been a black week for me, 
 Sir John. First of all my darter's youngest darter 
 comes and tells me she've picked up with a man. 
 Seems 'tvvas only last year she was rimnin' about 
 in short frocks; but dang it! the time must ha' 
 slipped away somehow whilst I've a-sat hammerin' 
 stones, an' now there'll be no person left to mind 
 me. iNText news, I hear from Master Gervase that 
 you be goin' foreign, Sir John, with Master Prosper 
 here. The world gets that empty, I wish I were 
 dead, I do. An' now they've a-took my I'il heap 
 o' stones ! " 
 
 " And this old man's sires," said my father to me, 
 but so that he did not hear, " held land in Domesday 
 Book — twelve virgates of land with close on forty 
 carucates of arable, villeins and borderers and bond- 
 servants, six acres of wood, a hundred and twenty 
 of pasture ; and he makes his last stand on this heap 
 of stones. Ballast ? " He turned to the seaman. 
 " Did I not tell Captain Pomery to ballast with 
 wine ? " 
 
 " We were carrying it all the forenoon," the sea- 
 man answered. " There was two hogsheads of 
 claret." 
 
 " And the hogshead of Madeira, with what re- 
 mained of the brown sherry ? Likewise in bottles 
 
 167
 
 SIR JOHK COXSTANTINE 
 
 twelve dozen of the Hermitage and as much again of 
 the Pope's wine, of Avignon ? " 
 
 " It all went in, sir. Master Gervase checked it 
 on board by the list." 
 
 " For the rest we are reduced to stones ? Then, 
 Prosper, there remains no other course open to us." 
 
 " Than what, sir ? " I asked. 
 
 " We must enlist this old man ; and that fulfils our 
 number." 
 
 " Old John Worthyvale ? " I laughed, incredulous. 
 
 " Why not ? He can sit in the hold and crack stones 
 until I devise his part in the campaign. Say no 
 more. I have an inkling he will prove not the least 
 useful man of our company." 
 
 " As to that, sir," I answered with a shrug of the 
 shoulders and a glance at Mr. Fett and Mr. Bad- 
 cock, " I don't feel able to contradict you." 
 
 " Then here we are assembled," said mv father 
 cheerfully, with the air of one closing a discussion ; 
 " the more by token that here comes Billy Priske. 
 Why, man," he asked as Billy rode up — but so de- 
 jectedly that his horse seemed to droop its ears in 
 sympathy — " what ails you ? l^ot wounded, are 
 you ? " 
 
 " Worse," answered Billy, and groaned. 
 
 " We were told you got quit of the crowd." 
 
 " So T did," said Billy. " Damn it ! " 
 
 168
 
 I ENLIST AN ARMY 
 
 a 
 
 They followed you ? " I asked. 
 
 " No, they didn't, and I wish they had." 
 
 " Then what on earth has liappened ? " 
 
 " What has happened ? " Having no hair of his 
 own to speak of, Billy reached forward and ran his 
 fingers through his horse's mane, " I've engaged to 
 get married. That's what has happened." 
 
 " Good Lord ! " 
 
 " To a female Methody, in a Quaker bonnet. I 
 had no idea of any such thing when I followed her. 
 She was sittin' on the first milestone out of Falmouth 
 and jabbin' her heel into the dust, like a person 
 in a pet. First of all, when I spoke to her, she 
 Avouldn't tell what had annoyed her; but later on it 
 turned out she had come expectin' to be made a 
 martyr of, and everything was lookin' keenly that 
 way until Sir John came and interfered, as she 
 put it." 
 
 " And she said," suggested Mr. Fett, " that she 
 didn't mind what man could do unto her ? " 
 
 " The very words she used, sir ! " said Billy, his 
 brow clearing as a prisoner's will when counsel sup- 
 plies him with a defence. 
 
 " And, when you took her at her word, like a 
 Christian woman she turned the other cheek ? " 
 
 " She did, sir, and no harm meant; but just doing 
 it gay, as a man will," 
 
 169
 
 SIR JOHN co:nstantjne 
 
 " But when you explained this, she wouldn't take 
 no for an answer ? " 
 
 " She would not, sir. She seemed not to under- 
 stand. Then I looked at her bonnet and, a thought 
 striking me, I tried ' nay ' instead. But that didn't 
 work no better than the other. If you could hide 
 me for to-night, Sir John " 
 
 " You had best sleep aboard the Gauntlet to- 
 night," said my father. " If the woman calls I will 
 have a talk with her. What is her name, by the 
 way ? " 
 
 " Martha." 
 
 " But I mean her full name." 
 
 " I didn't get so far as to inquire, Sir John. But 
 the point is, she knows mine." 
 
 170
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 OF THE DISCUSSION HELD ON BOARD THE GAUNTLET 
 
 The Pilot assured us that, considering the Gentleness of the 
 Winds and their pleasant Contentions, as also the Clearness of 
 the Atmosphere and the Calm of the Current, we stood neither in 
 Hope of much Good nor in Fear of much Harm . . . and advised 
 us to let the Ship drive, nor busy ourselves with anything but 
 making good Cheer. — The Fifth Book of the Good Panfagruel. 
 
 It appeared that, nnknown to me, my father had 
 already made his arrangements with Captain Pom- 
 ery, and we were to sail with the morning's tide. 
 During supper — which Billy Priske had no sooner 
 laid than he withdrew to collect his kit and carry 
 it down to the ship, taking old Worth^-rale for com- 
 pany — our good Vicar arrived, as well to hid us 
 good-bye as in some curiosity to learn what recruits 
 we had picked up in Falmouth. I think the sight 
 of them impressed him : but at the tale of our day's 
 adventures, and especially when he heard of our 
 championing the Methodists, his hands went up in 
 horror. 
 
 "The Methodists!" (For two years past the 
 Vicar had occupied a part of his leisure in writing a 
 
 171
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 pamphlet against them : and by " leisure " I mean all 
 such days as were either too inclement for fishing, 
 or thunderous so that the trout would not rise.) 
 
 " My dear friend, while you have been sharpen- 
 ing the sword of St. Athanasius against 'em, the 
 rabble has been beforehand with you and given 'em 
 bloody noses. The blood of the martyrs is the seed 
 of heresy — if you call the Wesleyans heretics — as 
 well as of the Church." 
 
 The Vicar sighed. " I have been slack of pace 
 and feeble of will. Yes, yes, I deserve the reproach." 
 
 My father laid a hand on his shoulder. " Tut, 
 tut ! Cannot you see that I was not reproaching, 
 but rather daring to commend you for an exemplar ? 
 There is a slackness which comes of weak will; but 
 there is another and a very noble slackness which 
 proceeds from the two strongest things on earth, con- 
 fidence and charity ; charity, which naturally inclines 
 to be long-suffering, and confidence, which, having 
 assurance in its cause, dares to trust that natural 
 inclination. Dissent in the first generation is usually 
 admirable and almost always respectable: men don't 
 leave the Church for fun, but because they have 
 thought and discovered (as they believe) something 
 amiss in her — something which in nine cases out of 
 ten she would be the better for considering. But 
 dissent in the second and third generation usually 
 
 172
 
 THE DISCOUKSE OX THE GAUNTLET 
 
 rests on bad temper, which is not admirable at all, 
 though often excusable because the Church's perse- 
 cution has produced it. Believe me, my dear Vicar, 
 that if all the bishops followed your example and 
 slept on their wrath against heresy, they would wake 
 up and find nine-tenths of the heretics back in the 
 fold. Indeed I wish your good lady would let you 
 pack your nightcap and come with us. You could 
 hire a curate over from Falmouth." 
 
 " Could I write my pamphlet at sea ? '* 
 
 " 'No : but, better still, by the time you returned 
 the necessity for it would be over." 
 
 The Vicar smiled. " You counsel lethargy ? — 
 you, who in an hour or two start for Corsica, and 
 with no more to-do than if bound on a picnic ! " 
 
 " Ay, but for love," answered my father. " In 
 love no man can be too prompt." 
 
 " I believe you, sir," hiccupped Mr. Fett, who had 
 been drinking more than was good for him. " And 
 so, begad, does your man Priske. Did any one mark, 
 just now, how like a shooting star he glided in the 
 night from Venus's eye? Love, sir?" he turned to 
 me. " The tender passion ? Is that our little game ? 
 Is that the face that launched a thousand ships and 
 burnt the topless towers of Ilium ? O Troy ! O 
 Helen ! You'll permit me to add, with a glance at 
 our friend Priske's predicament, O Dido ! At five 
 
 173
 
 SIR JOH^ COXSTAXTINE 
 
 shillings per diem I realise the twin ambitions of 
 a life-time and combine the supercargo with the buck. 
 Well, well, clierchez la femme." 
 
 " You pronounce it ' share-shay ' ? " inquired ^h\ 
 Badcock. " Xow I have seen it spelt the same as 
 in ' church.' " 
 
 " The same as in eh ? " Mr. Fett fixed him 
 
 with a glassy but reproachful eye. " Badcock, you 
 are premature, premature and indelicate." 
 
 Here my father interposed and, heading the talk 
 back to the Methodists, soon had the Vicar and the 
 little pawnbroker in full cry — parson and clerk anti- 
 phonal, " matched in mouth like bells " — on church 
 discipline; which gave him opportunity, while !N^at 
 and I at our end of the table exchanged the dear 
 converse and dearer silences of friendship, to con- 
 fer with my uncle Gervase and run over a score 
 of parting instructions on the management of the 
 estate, the ordering of the household, and, in particu- 
 lar, the entertainment of our Trappist guests. Per- 
 ceiving with the corner of his eye that we two were 
 restless to leave the table, he pushed the bottle 
 towards us. 
 
 " My lads," said he, " when the drinking tires let 
 the talk no longer detain you." 
 
 We thanked him, and with a glance at Mr. Fett — 
 who had fallen asleep with his head on his arms — 
 
 174
 
 THE DISCOURSE ON THE GAUNTLET 
 
 stepped out upon the moonlit terrace. I waited for 
 Nat to speak and give me a chance to have it out 
 with him, if he doubted (as he must, me thought) mj 
 father's sanity. But he gazed over the park at our 
 feet, the rolling shadows of the woodland, the far 
 estuary where one moonray trembled, and, stretching 
 out both hands, drew the spiced night-air into his 
 lungs with a sob. " O Prosper ! " 
 
 " You are wondering where to find your room ? " 
 said I, as he turned and glanced up at the grey 
 glimmering fagade. " The simplest way is to pick up 
 the first lantern you see in the hall, light it, walk up- 
 stairs, enter what room you choose, and take posses- 
 sion of its bed. You have five hours to sleep, if you 
 need sleep. Or shall I guide you ? " 
 
 " No," said he ; " the first is the only way in this 
 enchanted house. But I was thinlving that by rights, 
 while we are standing here, those windows should 
 blaze with lights and break forth with the noise of 
 dancing and minstrelsy. To such a castle, high 
 against such a velvet night as this, would Sir Lance- 
 lot come, or Sir Gawain, or Sir Perceval, at the close 
 of a hard day." 
 
 " Wait for the dawn, lad, and you will find it 
 rather the castle overgrown with briers." 
 
 " And, in the heart of them, the Rose ! " 
 
 " You will find no Sleeping Beauty, though you 
 
 175
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 hunt through all its rooms. She lies yonder, Nat, 
 somewhere out beyond the sea there." 
 
 " In a few hours we sail to her. O Prosper, and 
 we will find her ! This is better than any dream, 
 lad : and this is life ! " 
 
 He gazed into my eyes for a moment in the moon- 
 light, turned on his heel, and strode away from me 
 towards the great door, which — like every door in the 
 house — stood wide all the summer night. I was 
 staring at the shadow of the porch into which he had 
 disappeared, when my father touched my elbow. 
 
 " There goes a good lad," said he quietly. 
 
 " And my best friend." 
 
 " He has sobered down strangely from the urchin 
 I remember on Winchester meads ; and in the sober- 
 ing he has grown exalted. A man might almost say," 
 mused my father, " that the imp in him had shed 
 itself off and taken flesh in that Master Fett I left 
 snoring with his head on my dining-table. An 
 earthy spirit, that Master Fett ; earthy and yet some- 
 what inhuman. Your Nat Fiennes has the clue of 
 life — if only Atropos do not slit it." 
 
 Here the Vicar came out to take his leave, wind- 
 ing about his neck and throat the comforter he al- 
 ways wore as a protective against the night-air. It 
 appeared later that he was nettled by Mr. Badcock's 
 collapsing beneath the table just as they had reached 
 
 176
 
 THE DISCOUKSE ON THE GAUNTLET 
 
 No. XX. of the Thirty-nine Articles and passed it 
 through committee by consent. 
 
 " God bless you, lad ! " said he, and shook my 
 hand. " In seeking your kingdom you start some 
 way ahead of Saul the son of Kish. You have al- 
 ready discovered your father's asses." 
 
 He trudged away across the dewy park and was 
 soon lost in the darkness. In the dim haze under 
 the moon, having packed Mr. Badcock and Mr. Fett 
 in a hand-cart, we trundled them down to the shore 
 and lifted them aboard. They resisted not, nor 
 stirred. 
 
 By three o'clock our dispositions were made and 
 Captain Pomery professed himself ready to cast off. 
 I returned to the house for the last time, to awake 
 and fetch Nat Fiennes. As I crossed the wet sward 
 the day broke and a lark sprang from the bracken 
 and soared above me singing. But I went hanging 
 my head, heavy with lack of sleep. 
 
 I tried five rooms and found them empty. In the 
 sixth Nat lay stretched upon a tattered silk cover- 
 let. He sprang up at my touch and felt for his 
 sword. 
 
 " Past three o'clock and fine clear mornin' ! " sang 
 I, mimicking the Oxford watch, and with my foot 
 the tap of his staff as he had used to pass along 
 Holywell. 
 
 177
 
 SIR JOH^^ COXSTANTINE 
 
 "Hey! now the day dawis, 
 The jolly cock crawls 
 
 " The wind will head us in the upper reach : but 
 beyond it blows fair for Corsica ! " 
 
 He leapt to his feet and laughed, blithe as the 
 larks now chorusing outside the window. But ray 
 head was heavy, and somehow my heart too, as we 
 walked down to the shore. 
 
 My uncle Gervase stood on the grass-grown quay; 
 my father on the deck. They had already said their 
 good-byes. With his right hand my uncle took mine, 
 at the same time laying his left on my shoulder ; and 
 said he — 
 
 " Farewell, lad. The rivers in Corsica be short 
 and eager, as I hear; and slight fishing in them 
 near the coast, the banks being overgrown. But it 
 seems there are good trout, and in the mountain 
 pools. 
 
 " Whether they be the same as our British trout 1 
 cannot discover. I desire you to make certain. Also 
 if the sardines of those parts be the same as our 
 Cornish pilchards, but smaller. Belike they start 
 from the Mediterranean Sea and reach their full size 
 on our coasts. 
 
 " The migrations of fishes are even less under- 
 stood than those of the birds. Yet both (being an- 
 nual) will teach you, if you consider them, to think 
 
 178
 
 THE DISCOURSE ON THE GAUNTLET 
 
 little of this parting. God knows, lad, how sorely 
 I spare you. 
 
 " Do justice, observe mercy, and walk humbly be- 
 fore thy God. This if they should happen to make 
 you king, as your father promises. 
 
 " They have an animal very like a sheep, but 
 wilder and fiercer. If you have the luck to shoot 
 one, I shall be glad of his skin. 
 
 " 'Twill be a job here, making two ends meet. 
 But as our Lord said. Sufficient for the day is its 
 evil. I have put a bottle of tar-water in your berth. 
 
 " I have often wished to set eyes on the Mediter- 
 ranean Sea. A sea without tides must be but half 
 a sea — speaking with all respect to the Almighty, 
 who made it. 
 
 " You will pick up the wind in the lower reach. 
 
 " There was a trick or two of fence I taught you 
 aforetime. I had meant to remind you of 'em. But 
 enough, lad. Shake hands . . . the Lord have you 
 in His keeping ! " 
 
 Good man ! For a long w^iile after we had thrust 
 off from the quay, the two seamen in the cock-boat 
 towing us, he stood there and waved farewells; but 
 turned before we reached the river bend, and went 
 his way up through the woods — since in Cornw^all it 
 is held unlucky to watch departing friends clean out 
 of sight. 
 
 179
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 Almost at once I went below in search of my ham- 
 mock, and there slept ten solid hours, by the clock ; 
 a feat of which I never witted until, coming upon 
 deck, I rubbed my eyes to find no sight of land, but 
 the sea all around us and Captain Pomery at the 
 helm with the sun but a little above his right shoul- 
 der. The sky, but for a few fleeced clouds, was clear ; 
 a brisk north-westerly breeze blew steady on our 
 starboard quarter, and before it the ketch ran with 
 a fine hiss of water about her bluff bows. My father 
 and Nat were stretched with a board between them 
 on the deck by the foot of the mizzen, deep in a 
 game of chequers: and, without disturbing them, I 
 stepped amidships where Mr, Fett lay prone on his 
 belly, his chin propped on both hands, in discourse 
 with Billy and Mr. Badcock, who reclined with their 
 backs against the starboard bulwark. 
 
 " Tut, man ! " said Mr, Fett cheerfully, address- 
 ing Billy. " You have taken the right classical way 
 with her: think of Theseus and Ariadne, Phaon and 
 Sappho, . . . We are back in the world's first best 
 age ; when a man, if he wanted a woman to wife, 
 sailed in a ship and abducted her, as did the Tyrian 
 sea-captain with lo daughter of Inachus, Jason with 
 Medea, Paris with Helen of Greece ; and again, when 
 he tired of her, left her on an island and sailed 
 away. There was Sappho, now; she ran and cast 
 
 180
 
 THE DISCOUKSE ON THE GAUNTLET 
 
 herself off a rock. And Medea, she murdered her 
 children in revenge. But we are over-hasty, to talk 
 of children." 
 
 Billy groaned aloud, " I meant no harm to the 
 woman." 
 
 " Nor did these heroes. As I was saying, on board 
 this ship I find myself back in the world's dawn, 
 ready for any marvels, but responsible (there's the 
 beauty of it) only to my ledger. As supercargo I sit 
 careless as a god on Olympus. My pen is trimmed, 
 my ink-pot filled, and my ledger ruled and prepared 
 for miracles. Item, a Golden Fleece. Item, a 
 king's runaway daughter, slightly damaged : 
 
 " ^Vhateve^ befell the good ship Argn, 
 It didn't affect the supercargo, 
 
 who whistled and sat composing blank verse, having 
 
 discovered that Jason rhymed most unheroically with 
 
 bason : 
 
 " Neglecting the daughter of ^son, 
 Sat Jason, a bason his knees on " 
 
 " You don't help a man much, sir, so far as I 
 understand you," grumbled Billy, with a nervous 
 glance around the horizon. 
 
 '' "Well, then I'll prescribe you another way. No- 
 body believes me when I tell the following story: but 
 'tis true nevertheless. So listen : 
 
 181
 
 SIR JOHN COi^STANTINE 
 
 Mr. Fett' s Stoey of the Inteeeupted Beteothal 
 
 " To the south of the famous city of Oxford, be- 
 tween it and the town of Abingdon, lies a neat covert 
 called Bagley Wood: in the which, on a Sunday 
 evening a bare two months ago, I chose to wander 
 with my stage copy of Mr. Otway's ' Orphan ' — a 
 silly null play, sirs, if not altogether the nonsense 
 for which Abingdon, two nights later, condemned it. 
 While I wandered amid the undergrowth, conning 
 my part, my attention was arrested by a female voice 
 on the summer breeze, most pitiably entreating for 
 help. I closed my book and bent my steps in the 
 direction of the outcries. Judge of my amazement 
 when, parting the bushes in a secluded glade, I came 
 upon a distressed but not imcomely maiden, buried 
 up to her neck in earth beneath the spreading boughs 
 of a beech. To exhume and release her cost me, un- 
 provided as I was with any tool for the purpose, no 
 little labour. At length, however, I disengaged her 
 and was rewarded with her story; which ran, that 
 a faithless swain, having decoyed her into the re- 
 cesses of the wood, had pushed her into a pit pre- 
 pared by him ; and that but for the double accident 
 of having miscalculated her inches and being startled 
 by my recitations of Otway into a terror that the 
 
 182
 
 THE DISCOURSE OX THE GAUNTLET 
 
 whole countryside was after him with hue and cry, 
 he had undoubtedly consummated his fell design. 
 After cautioning her to be more careful in future 
 I parted from the damsel (who to the last protested 
 her gratitude) and walked homeward to my lodg- 
 ings, on the way reflecting how frail a thing is 
 woman when matched against man the libertine." 
 
 Billy Priske's eyes had grown round in his head. 
 Mr. Badcock, after sitting in thought for a full min- 
 ute, observed that the incident was peculiar in many 
 respects. 
 
 " Is that the end of the yarn? " I asked. 
 
 " I never met the lady again," confessed Mr. Fett. 
 " As for the story," he added with a sigh, " I am 
 accustomed to have it disbelieved. Yet let me tell 
 you this. On my return I related it to the company, 
 who received it with various degrees of incredulity 
 — all but a youthful stroller who had joined us at 
 Banbury and earned promotion, on the strength of 
 his looks, from ' walking gentleman ' to what is 
 known in the profession as ' first lover.' On the 
 strength of this, again, he had somewhat hastily as- 
 pired to the hand of our leading tragedy lady — a 
 mature person, who knew her own mind. My nar- 
 rative seemed to dispel the atmosphere of gloom 
 which had hung about him for some days; and the 
 next morning, having promised to accompany his be- 
 
 183
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 frothed on a stroll up the river-bank^ he left the inn 
 with a light, almost jaunty, tread. From the bal- 
 cony I watched them out of sight. By and by, how- 
 ever, I spied a figure returning alone by the towpath ; 
 and, concealing myself, heard yoimg Romeo in the 
 courtyard carelessly demanding of the ostler the loan 
 of a spade. From behind my curtain I watched him 
 as again he made his way up the shore with the 
 implement tucked under his arm. I waited in a 
 terrible suspense. Each minute seemed an hour. A 
 thunderstorm happening to break over the river at 
 this juncture (as such things do), the scene lacked 
 no appropriate accessory of menace. At length, be- 
 tween two flashes of lightning, I perceived in the 
 distance my two turtles returning, and gave voice 
 to my relief. They were walking side by side, but 
 no longer arm-in-arm. Young Romeo hung his head 
 dejectedly : and on a closer view the lady's garments 
 not only dripped with the storm but showed traces 
 of earth to the waist. The rest they kept to them- 
 selves. I say no more, save that after the evening's 
 performance (of ' All for Love ') young Romeo came 
 to me and announced that his betrothal was at an 
 end. They had discovered (as he put it) some in- 
 compatibility of temper." 
 
 My father and Nat Fiennes had finished their 
 game and come forward in time to hear the conclu- 
 
 184
 
 THE DISCOURSE ON THE GAUNTLET 
 
 sion of this amazing narrative. Billy Priske stared 
 at his master in beAvilderment. 
 
 " A spade ! " growled Billy, mopping his brow and 
 letting his gaze travel aroimd the horizon again be- 
 fore settling, in dull wrath, on Mr. Fett. " What's 
 the use, sir, of makin' a man feel like a villain and 
 puttin' thoughts into his head without means to 
 fulfil'em?" 
 
 " Sit you quiet," said my father, " while I try 
 to drive Mr. Fett's story out of your head wdth an 
 honester one." 
 
 " About a spade, master ? " 
 
 " There is a spade in the story. In the year 1416 
 a certain Portuguese sea-captain, Gonsalvez Zarco by 
 name, and servant of the famous Henry of Portugal, 
 was cruising homeward in a leaky caravel from a 
 baffled voyage in search of the Fortunate Islands. 
 He had run into a fog off Cape Blanco in Africa, 
 and had been pushing through it for two days when 
 the weather lifted and the look-out spied a boat, 
 empty but for one man, drifting a mile and more 
 to leeward. Zarco ran down for the boat, and the 
 man, being brought aboard, was found to be an 
 escaped Moorish prisoner on his way back to Spain. 
 He gave his name as Morales, and said that he had 
 sometime been a pilot of Seville, but, being captured 
 by the Moors off Algeciras, had sjDent close on twenty 
 
 185
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 years in servitude to them. In the end he and six 
 other Christians had escaped in a boat of their own 
 making, but with few victuals. When these were 
 consumed his companions had perished one by one, 
 horribly, and he had been sailing without hope, not 
 caring whither, for a day and a night before his 
 rescue come. 
 
 " Now this much he told them painfully, being 
 faint with fasting and light-headed: but, afterwards 
 falling into a delirium, he let slip certain words that 
 caused Captain Zarco to bestow him in a cabin apart 
 and keep watch over him until the ship reached 
 Lagos, whence he conveyed him secretly and by 
 night to Prince Henry, who dwelt at that time in 
 an arsenal of his own building, on the headland of 
 Sagres. There Prince Henry questioned him, and 
 the old man, taken by surprise, told them a story both 
 true and wonderful. 
 
 " In his captivity he had made friends with a 
 fellow-prisoner, an Englishman named Prince or 
 Prance (since dead, after no less than thirty years of 
 servitude), who had fallen among the Moors in the 
 manner following. In his youth he had been a sea- 
 man, and one day in the year 1370 he was stand- 
 ing idle on Bristol Quay when a young squire 
 accosted him and offered to hire him for a voyage to 
 France, naming a good wage and pressing no small 
 
 186
 
 THE DISCOURSE ON THE GAUNTLET 
 
 share of it upon him as earnest-money. The ship 
 (he said, naming her) lay below at Avonmouth and 
 would sail that same night. Prince knew the ship 
 and her master, and judged from the young squire's 
 apparel and bearing that here was one of those vol- 
 untary expeditions by which our young nobles made 
 it a fashion to seek fame at the expense of our ene- 
 mies the French ; a venture dangerous indeed but 
 carrying a hopeful chance of high profits. He 
 agreed, therefore, and joined the ship a little after 
 nightfall. Towards midnight arrived a boat with 
 our young squire and one companion, a lady of ex- 
 treme beauty, who had no sooner climbed the ship's 
 side than the master cut the anchor-cable and stood 
 out for sea. 
 
 " The names of these pretty runaways were Rob- 
 ert Machin and Anne d'Arfet, wife of a sour mer- 
 chant of Bristol; and all their care was to flee 
 together and lose all the world for love. But they 
 never reached France; for, having run prosperously 
 down Channel and across from the Land's End until 
 they sighted Ushant, they met a north-easterly gale 
 which blew them off the coast; a gale so blind and 
 terrible and persistent that for twelve days they ran 
 before it, in peril of death. On the thirteenth day 
 they sighted an island, where, having found (as they 
 thought) good anchorage, they brought the ship to, 
 
 187
 
 SIR JOH^^ COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 and rowed the lady ashore through the surf. Be- 
 tween suffering and terror she was already close 
 upon death. 
 
 " Xow this man Prince said that though the sea- 
 men laid their peril at her door, holding the mon- 
 strous storm to be a judgment direct from Heaven 
 upon her sin, yet not one of them, considering her 
 childish beauty, had the heart to throw her an ill word 
 or so much as an accusing look ; but, having borne her 
 ashore, they built a tabernacle of boughs and roofed 
 it wuth a spare sail for her and for her lover, who 
 watched beside her till she died. 
 
 " On the morning of her death the seamen, who 
 slept on the beach at a little distance, were awakened 
 by a terrible cry: whereat gazing seaward — as a sea- 
 man's first impulse is — they missed all sight of their 
 ship. Either the gale, reviving, had parted her 
 moorings and blown her out to sea, or else the two 
 or three left on board had treacherously slipped her 
 cable. At all events, no more was ever heard of her. 
 
 " The seamen supposed then that Master Machin 
 had called out for the loss of the ship. But, coming 
 to him, they found him staring at the poor corpse of 
 his lady; and when they pointed to sea he appeared 
 to mark not their meaning. Only he said many 
 times, ' Is she gone ? Is she gone ? ' Whether he 
 spoke of the ship or of the lady they could not tell. 
 
 188
 
 THE DISCOURSE OX THE GAUNTLET 
 
 Thereafter he said nothing, but turned his face away 
 from all offers of food, and on the fifth day the sea- 
 men buried him beside his mistress and set up a 
 wooden cross at their heads. 
 
 "After this (said Prince), finding no trace of 
 habitation on the island, and being convinced that 
 no ship ever passed within sight of it, the seamen 
 caught and killed four of the sheep which ran wild 
 upon the cliffs, and with the flesh of them provisioned 
 the boat in which they had come ashore, and took 
 their leave. For eleven days they steered as nearly 
 due east as they could — that being the quarter in 
 which they supposed the mainland to lie, until a gale 
 overtook them, and, drowning the rest, cast four of 
 them alive on the coast near ]\Iogador, where the 
 Moors fell on them and sold them into slavery, to 
 masters living wide apart. Yet, however the others 
 perished, in the mouth of this one man the story lived 
 and came after many days to ears that understood it. 
 
 " For Prince Henry, hearing the pilot's tale, be- 
 lieved verily that this must be the island for which 
 his sea-captains had been searching, and in 1420 sent 
 Zarco forth again to seek it, with the old man on 
 board. They reached Porto Santo, where they heard 
 of a dark line visible in all clear weather on the 
 southern horizon, and, sailing for it through the fogs, 
 came to a marshy cape, and beyond this cape to high 
 
 189
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 wooded land which Morales recognised at once from 
 his fellow-prisoner's description. Yes, and, bring- 
 ing them to shore, he led them, unerring, to the 
 wooden cross above the beach ; and there, over the 
 grave of these lovers, Zarco took seizin of the island 
 in the name of King John of Portugal, Prince 
 Henry, and the Order of Christ. 
 
 " From this," my father concluded, " we may 
 learn, first, that human passion, of all things the 
 most transient, may be stronger and more enduring 
 than death; of all things the unruliest and most de- 
 serving to be chastened, it may rise naked from the 
 scourge to claim the homage of all men; nay, that 
 this mire in which the multitude wallows may on an 
 instant lift up a brow of snow and challenge the 
 Divinity Himself, saying, ' We are of one essence. 
 Shall not I too work miracles ? ' Secondly " 
 
 " Your pardon, master," put in Billy, " but in all 
 the fine speeches about Love and War and suchlike 
 that I've heard you read out of books afore now, I 
 could never make out what use they be to common 
 fellows like myself. Say 'tis a battle: you start us 
 off with a shout, which again starts off our betters 
 a-knocking together other folks' heads and their own : 
 but afterwards, when I'm waiting and wondering 
 what became of Billy Priske, all the upshot is that 
 some thousand were slaughtered and maybe enough 
 
 190
 
 THE DISCOURSE 01^ THE GAUNTLET 
 
 to set some river running with blood. Likewise with 
 these seamen^ that never ran off with their neigh- 
 bours' wives, but behaved pretty creditable under the 
 circumstances, which didn't prevent their being spilt 
 out of boats and eaten bv fishes or cast ashore and 
 barbecued by heathen Turks — a pretty thing this 
 Love did for them, I sav. And so to come to 
 my own case, which is where this talk started, I 
 desire with all respect, master, that you will first 
 ease my mind of this question — be I in love, or 
 hain't I?" 
 
 '' Surely, man, you must know that ? " 
 
 Billy shook his head. " I've what you might call 
 a feeling t'wards the woman: and yet not rightly 
 what you might call a feeling, nor yet azactly, as you 
 might say, t'wards her. And it can't be so strong 
 as I reckoned, for when she spoke the word ' mar- 
 riage ' you might ha' knocked me down with a 
 straw." 
 
 "Eh?" put in Mr. Fett, "was she the first to 
 mention it ? " 
 
 " Me bein' a trifle absent-minded, maybe, on that 
 point," explained Billy. His gaze at this point, hap- 
 pening to wander to the wheel, encountered Captain 
 Jo Pomery's; and Captain Jo, who had been listen- 
 ing, nodded encouragement. 
 
 " Speakin' as a seafarin' man and the husband o' 
 
 191
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 three at one time and another," said he, " they al- 
 ways do so." 
 
 " My Artemisia," said Mr. Badeock, " was no ex- 
 ception; though a powerful woman and well able to 
 look after herself." 
 
 " 'Tis their privilege," agreed Captain Pomery. 
 " You must allow 'em a few." 
 
 " But contrariwise," Billy resumed, " it must be 
 stronger than I reckoned, for here I be safe, as you 
 may say, and here I should be grateful; whereas I 
 hain't, and, what's more, my appetite's failin'. Be 
 you goin' to give me something for it ? " he asked, 
 as Mr. Badeock dived a hand suddenly into a tail 
 pocket and drew forth what at first appeared to be 
 the neck of a bottle, but to closer view revealed itself 
 as the upper half of a flute. A second dive pro- 
 duced the remainder. 
 
 " Good Lord ! Badeock has another accomplish- 
 ment! " ejaculated Mr. Fett. 
 
 " The gift of music," said Mr. Badeock, screwing 
 the two portions of the instrument together, " is born 
 in some. The great Batch — John Sebastian Batch, 
 gentlemen — as I am credibly informed, composed 
 a fugue in his bed at the tender age of four." 
 
 " He was old enough to have given his nurse warn- 
 ing," said Mr. Fett. 
 
 " With me," pursued Mr. Badeock modestly, " it 
 
 192
 
 THE DISCOURSE ON THE GAUNTLET 
 
 has been tlic result of later and (I will not conceal 
 the truth, sirs) more assiduous cultivation. This in- 
 strument " — he tapped it affectionately — " came to 
 me in the ordinary way of trade and lay unredeemed 
 in my shop for no less than eight years; nor when 
 exposed for sale could it tempt a purchaser. ' You 
 must do something with it,' said my Artemisia — an 
 excellent housewife, gentlemen, who wasted nothing 
 if she could help it. I remember her giving me the 
 same advice about an astrolabe, and again about a 
 sun-dial corrected for the meridian of Bury St. Ed- 
 mund's. ' My dear,' I answered, ' there is but one 
 thing to be done with a flute, and that is to learn it.' 
 In this way I discovered what I will go no further 
 than to describe as my Bent." 
 
 Mr. Badcock put the flute to his lips, and blew 
 into it. A tune resulted. 
 
 " But," persisted Billy Priske after a dozen bars 
 or so, " the latest thing to be mentioned was my ap- 
 petite : and 'tis wonderful to me how you gentlemen 
 are lettin' the conversation stray, this afternoon." 
 
 " The worst of a flute," said Mr. Badcock, with- 
 drawing it from his lips with obvious reluctance, 
 " and the objection commonly urged by its de- 
 tractors, is that a man cannot blow upon it and sing 
 at the same time." 
 
 " I don't say," said Billy seriously, " as that 
 
 193
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAXTIXE 
 
 mayn't be a reas'nable objection; only it didn't hap- 
 pen to be mine," 
 
 '^ You have heard the tune/' said Mr. Badcock. 
 " Now for the words — 
 
 " I attempt from love's sickness to fly, in vain, 
 Since I am myself my own fever and pain." 
 
 " Bravo ! " my father cried. " Mr. Badcock has 
 hit it. You are in love, Billy, and beyond a doubt." 
 
 " Be I ? " said Billy, scratching his head. " Well, 
 as the saying is, many an ass has entered Jerusalem." 
 
 194
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 We laid them aboard the larboard side — 
 With hey! with ho! for and a nonny no! 
 
 And we threw them into the sea so wide, 
 And alongst the Coast of Barbary. 
 
 — The Sailor's Onely Delight. 
 
 My father, checked in the midst, or rather at the 
 outset, of a panegyric upon love, could not rest until 
 he had found an ear into which to deliver it; hut 
 that same evening, after the moon had risen, drew 
 Nat aside on the poop, and discharged the whole 
 harangue upon him ; the result heing that the dear 
 lad, who already fancied himself another Rudel in 
 quest of the Lady of Tripoli, spent the next two 
 days in composing these verses, the only ones (to my 
 knowledge) ever finished by him : 
 
 Nat Fiennes' Song to the Undiscovered Lady 
 
 Thou, thou, that art 
 My port, my refuge, and my goal, 
 
 I have no chart, 
 
 No compass but a heart 
 Trembling t 'wards thee and to no other pole. 
 
 195
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 My star! Adrift 
 On seas that well-nigh overwhelm, 
 
 Still when they lift 
 
 I strain towards the rift, 
 And steer, and hold my courage to the helm. 
 
 With ivory comb, 
 Daylong thou dalliest dreaming where 
 
 The rainbow foam 
 
 Enisles thy murmuring home: 
 Home too for me, though I behold it ne'er! 
 
 Yet when the bird 
 Is tired, and each little wave, 
 
 Aloft is heard 
 
 A call, reminds thee gird 
 Thy robe and cHmb to where the summits rave: 
 
 Yea, to the white 
 Lone sea-mark shaken on the verge — 
 
 "What of the night?" 
 
 Ah, climb — ah, lift the light! 
 Ah, lamp thy lover labouring in the surge! 
 
 Fray'd rope, burst sail, 
 Drench 'd wing, as moth towards the spark — 
 
 I fetch, I fail, 
 
 Glad only that the gale 
 Breaks not my life upon the brutal dark. 
 
 Be it frost or fire. 
 Thy bosom, I believed it warm: 
 
 I did aspire 
 
 For that, and my desire — 
 Burn thou or freeze — fought thro' and beat the storm. 
 
 19G
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 Thou, thou, that art 
 My sole salvation, fixed, afar, 
 
 I have no chart, 
 
 No compass but a heart 
 Hungry for thee and for no other star. 
 
 " Humph ! " said I, by way of criticism, when 
 these verses were shown to me. " Where be the 
 mackerel lines, Captain Jo ? There's too much love- 
 talk aboard this ship of yours." 
 
 " Mackerel ? " said Captain Jo. " Why, where's 
 your bait ? " 
 
 " You shall lend me an inch off your pipe-stem," 
 said I, and, to tease Nat, began to hum the senseless 
 old song: 
 
 She has ta'en a siller wand 
 
 An' gi'en strokes three, 
 An' chang'd my sister Masery 
 
 To a mack'rel of the sea. 
 And every Saturday at noon 
 
 The mack'rel comes to me, 
 An' she takes my laily head 
 
 An' lays it on her knee. 
 An' kames it wi' a kame o' pearl. 
 
 An' washes it i' the sea 
 
 " Mackerel ? " said Captain Pomery. " If ye 
 found one fool enough to take hold at the rate we're 
 sailing, ye'd pull his head off." 
 
 " Why, then, he would be off his head," answered 
 
 197
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 I : " and there are plenty here to make him feel at 
 home." 
 
 In truth I was nettled ; jealous, as a lad in his 
 first friendship is quick to be. Were not Nat and 
 I of one age ? Then why should he be leaving 
 thoughts we might share, to think of woman ? I had 
 chafed at Oxford against his precocious entangle- 
 ments. Here on shipboard his propensity was past 
 a joke ; with no goose in sight to mistake for a swan, 
 he must needs conjure up an imaginary princess for 
 his devotion. AVhat irritated most of all was his 
 assuming, because I had not arrived at his folly, the 
 right to treat me as a child. 
 
 South and across the Bay of Biscay the weather 
 gave us a halcyon passage ; the wind falling lighter 
 and lighter until, within ten leagues of Gibraltar, 
 we ran into a flat calm, and Captain Pomery's face 
 began to show his vexation. 
 
 The vexation I could understand — for your sea- 
 man naturally hates calm weather — but scarcely the 
 degree of it in a man temperamentally so placid. 
 Hitherto he had taken delight in the strains of Mr. 
 Badcock's flute. Suddenly, and almost pettishly, he 
 laid an embargo on that instrument, and moreover 
 sent word down to the hold, and commanded old 
 Worthy\'ale to desist from hammering on the bal- 
 last. All noise, in fact, appeared to irritate him. 
 
 198
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 Mr. Badcock pocketed his flute in some dudgeon, 
 and for occupation fell to drinking with Mr. Fett; 
 whose potations, if they did not sensibly lighten the 
 ship, heightened, at least, her semblance of buoy- 
 ancy with a deck-cargo of empty bottles. My father 
 put no restraint upon these topers. 
 
 " Drink, gentlemen," said he ; " drink by all 
 means so long as it amuses you. I had far rather 
 you exceeded than that I should appear inhos- 
 pitable." 
 
 " Magnifshent old man," Mr. Fett hiccupped to 
 me confidentially, " an magnifshent liquor. As the 
 song shays — I beg your pardon, the shong says — 
 able 'make a cat speak an' man dumb — 
 
 " Like 'n old courtier of the queen's 
 An' the queen's old courtier — 
 
 Chorus, Mr. Bawcock, if you please, an', by the way, 
 won't mind my calling you Bawcock, will you ? Good 
 Shakespearean word, bawcock : euphonious, too — 
 
 " Accomplisht eke to flute it and to sing, 
 Euphonious Bawcock bids the welkin ring." 
 
 " If," said Mr. Badcock in an injured tone and 
 
 with a dark glance aft at Captain Pomery, " if a man 
 
 don't like my playing, he has only to say so. I don't 
 
 press it on any one. From all I ever heard, art is 
 
 a matter of taste. But I don't understand a man's 
 
 199
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTINE 
 
 being suddenly upset by a tune that, only yesterday, 
 he couldn't hear often enough." 
 
 Out of the little logic I had picked up at Oxford 
 I tried to explain to him the process known as sorites ; 
 and suggested that Captain Pomery, while tolerant of 
 / attempt from Love's sickness to fly up to the hun- 
 dredth repetition, might conceivably show signs of 
 tiring at the hundred-and-first. Yet in my heart I 
 mistrusted my own judgment, and my wonder at the 
 skipper's conduct increased when, the next dawn 
 finding us still becalmed, but with the added annoy- 
 ance of a fog that almost hid the bowsprit's end, his 
 demeanour swung back to joviality. I taxed him 
 with this, in my father's hearing. 
 
 " I make less account of fogs than most men," he 
 answered. " I can smell land ; which is a gift and 
 born with me. But this is no weather to be caught 
 in anywhere near the Sallee coast; and if we're 
 to lose the wind, let's have a good fog to hide us, 
 I say." 
 
 He went on to assure us that the seas hereabouts 
 were infested with Moorish pirates, and to draw some 
 dismal pictures of what might happen if we fell in 
 with a prowling Sallateen. 
 
 With all his fears he kept his reckoning admirably, 
 and we half-sailed, half-drifted through the Strait, 
 and so near to the Hock of Gibraltar that, passing 
 
 200
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 within range of it at the hour of reveille, we heard 
 the British bugles sounding to us like ghosts through 
 the fog. Captain Pomerj here was in two minds 
 about laying-to and waiting for a breeze ; but a light 
 slant of wind encouraged him to carry the Gauntlet 
 through. It bore us between the invisible, narrow 
 Strait, and for a score of sea-miles beyond ; then, as 
 casually as it had helped, it deserted us. 
 
 Dav broke and discovered us with the Moorish 
 coast low on our starboard horizon. To Mr. Fett 
 and Mr. Badcock this meant nothing, and my father 
 might have left them to their ignorance had he not 
 in the course of the forenoon caught them engaged 
 upon a silly piece of mischief, which was, to scribble 
 on small sheets of paper various affecting narratives 
 — as that the Gauntlet was sinking, or desperately 
 attacked by pirates, in such and such a latitude and 
 longitude — insert them in empty bottles, and com- 
 mit them to the chances of the deep; the object (as 
 Mr. Fett explained it) being to throw Billy Priske's 
 sweetheart off the scent. For two days past he had 
 been slyly working upon Billy's fears, and was re- 
 lating to him how, with two words, a ^Moorish lady 
 had followed Gilbert a Becket from Palestine to Lon- 
 don, and found him there — when my father, at- 
 tracted by the smell of pitch, strolled forward and 
 caught Mr. Badcock in the act of sealing the bottles 
 
 201
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 from a ladle which stood heating over a lamp. In 
 the next five minutes the pair learnt that my father 
 could lose his temper, and the lesson visibly scared 
 them. 
 
 " Your pardon, sir," twittered Mr. Fett. " 'Twas 
 a foolish joke, I confess." 
 
 " I may lend some point to it," answered my 
 father grimly, " by telling you what I had a mind to 
 concea^., that vou stand at this moment at no far 
 remove from one of the worst dangers you have 
 playfully invented. The wind has dropped again, as 
 you perceive. Along the coast yonder live the worst 
 pirates in the world, and with a glass we may all 
 but discern the dreadful barracks in which so many 
 hundreds of our fellow-Christians lie at this moment, 
 languishing. Please God we are only visible from 
 the hill-country, and the coast tribes may miss to 
 descry us ! For our goal lies north and east, and 
 to fail of it would break my heart. But 'twere a 
 high enterprise for England some day to smoke out 
 these robbers, and I know none to which a Christian 
 man could more worthily engage himself." 
 
 Mr. Badcock shivered. " In our parish church," 
 said he, " we used to take up a collection for these 
 poor prisoners every Septuagesima. Many a sermon 
 have I listened to and wondered at their sufferings, 
 yet idly, as no doubt Axminster folk would wonder 
 
 202
 
 WE FALL IX WITH A SALLEE KOVER 
 
 at this plight of mine, could they hear of it at this 
 moment." 
 
 My father, his wrath being 3'et recent, did not 
 spare presently to paint our peril of capture and the 
 possible consequences in lively colours ; but, observ- 
 ing that Nat and I had drawn near to listen, he put 
 on a cheerful Icr tone. 
 
 " He will turn all this to the note of love, and 
 within five minutes," I whispered to Xat, " or I'll 
 forfeit five sliillings." 
 
 My father could not have heard me; yet pat on 
 the moment he rose to the bet as a fish to a fly. 
 
 " Yet love," said he, " love, the star of our quest, 
 has shone before now into these dungeons, these dark 
 ways of blood, these black and cruel hearts, and 
 divinely illuminated them ; as a score of histories 
 bear witness, and among them one you shall hear. 
 
 The Story of the Rover and the Lord Provost's 
 
 Daughter 
 
 " In Edinburgh, in the Canongate, there stands a 
 tenement known as Morocco Land, over the second 
 floor of which leans forward, like a figurehead, the 
 wooden statue of a Moor, black and naked, with a 
 turban and a string of beads ; and concerning this 
 statue the following tale is told. 
 
 203
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " In the reign of King James or King Charles I. 
 — I cannot remember which — there happened a riot 
 in Edinburgh. Of its cause I am uncertain, but in 
 the progress of it the mob, headed by a young man 
 named Andrew Gray, set fire to the Lord Provost's 
 house. The riot having been quelled, its ringleaders 
 were eeized and cast into the Tolbooth, and among 
 them this Andrew Gray, who in due course was 
 brought to judgment, and in spite of much private 
 influence (for he came of good family) condemned 
 to die. Before the day of execution, however, his 
 friends managed to spirit him out of prison, whence 
 he fled the country; and so escaped and in time was 
 forgotten. 
 
 " Many years after, at a time when the plague was 
 raging through Edinburgh, a Barbary corsair sailed 
 boldly up the Firth of Forth and sent a message 
 ashore to the Lord Provost, demanding twenty thou- 
 sand pounds' ransom, and on a threat, if it were not 
 paid within twenty-four hours, to burn all the ship- 
 ping in the firth and along the quays. He required, 
 meanwhile, a score of hostages for payment, and 
 among them the Lord Provost's own son. 
 
 " The Lord Provost ran about like a man de- 
 mented ; since, to begin with, audacious as the terms 
 were, the plague had spared him scarcely a hundred 
 men capable of resistance. Moreover, he had no son, 
 
 204
 
 WE FALL m WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 but an only daughter, and she was lying upstairs sick 
 almost to death with the distemper. So he made an- 
 swer, promising the ransom, but explaining that he 
 for his part could send no hostage. To this the Sal- 
 lee captain replied politely — that he had some ex- 
 perience of the plague, and possessed an elixir which 
 (he made sure) would cure the maiden if the Lord 
 Provost would do him the honour to receive a visit ; 
 nay, that if he failed to cure her, he would remit the 
 city's ransom. 
 
 " You may guess with what delight the father con- 
 sented. The pirate came ashore in state, and was 
 made welcome. The elixir was given; the damsel 
 recovered ; and in due course she married her Paynim 
 foe, who now revealed himself as the escaped pris- 
 oner, Andrew Gray. He had risen high in the ser- 
 vice of the Emperor of Morocco, and had fitted out 
 his ship expressly to be revenged upon the city which 
 had once condemned him to death. The story con- 
 cludes that he settled down, and lived the rest of 
 his life as one of its most reputable citizens." 
 
 " But what was the elixir ? " inquired Mr. Bad- 
 cock. 
 
 " T'cht ! " answered my father testily. 
 
 " I agree with you, sir," said Mr. Fett. " Mr. 
 Badcock's question was a foolish one. Speaking, 
 however, as a mere man of business, and without 
 
 205
 
 SIR JOHX COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 thought of rounding off the story artistically, I am 
 curious to know how they settled the ransom." 
 
 Captain Pomery had taken in all canvas, to be 
 as little conspicuous as possible ; and all that day we 
 lay becalmed under bare poles. Xot content with 
 this, he ordered out the boat, and the two seamen 
 (Mike Halliday and Roger Wearne their names 
 were) took turns with Xat and me in towing the 
 Gauntlet off the coast. It was back-breaking work 
 under a broiling sun, but before evening we had the 
 satisfaction to lose all sight of land. Still we per- 
 severed and tugged until close upon midnight, when 
 the captain called us aboard, and we tumbled asleep 
 on deck, too weary even to seek our hammocks. 
 
 At daybreak next morning (Sunday) my father 
 roused me. A light wind had sprung up from the 
 shore, and with all canvas spread we were slipping 
 through the water gaily; yet not so gaily (doubted 
 Captain Pomery) as a lateen-sailed craft some four 
 or five miles astern of us — a craft which he an- 
 nounced to be a Moorish xebec. 
 
 The Gauntlet — a flattish-bottomed ship — footed it 
 well, before the wind, but not to compare with the 
 xebec, which, indeed, was little more than a long 
 open boat. After an hour's chase she had plainly 
 reduced our lead by a mile or more. Then for close 
 upon an hour we seemed to have the better of the 
 
 206
 
 WE FALL TX WITH A SALLEE ROVEPv 
 
 wind, and more than held our own ; whereat the most 
 of us openly rejoiced. For reasons which he kept to 
 himself Captain Poraery did not share in our elation. 
 
 For sole armament (besides our muskets) the 
 ketch carried, close after of her fore-hatchway, a 
 little obsolete three-pounder gim, long since superan- 
 nuated out of the Falmouth packet service. In the 
 dim past, when he had bid for her at a public auc- 
 tion. Captain Pomery may have designed to use the 
 gun as a chaser, or perhaps, even then, for decoration 
 only. She served now — and had served for many a 
 peaceful passage — but as a peg for spare coils of 
 rope, and her rickety carriage as a supplement, now 
 and then, for the bitts, which were somewhat out of 
 repair. My father casting about, as the chase pro- 
 gressed, to put us on better terms of defence, sug- 
 gested unlashing this gun and running her aft for 
 a stern-chaser 
 
 Captain Pomery shook his head. " Wliere's the 
 ammunition ? We don't carrv a sinsrle round shot 
 
 I. CD 
 
 aboard, nor haven't for vears. Besides which she'd 
 burst to a certainty." 
 
 " There's time enough to make up a few tins of 
 canister," argued my father. " Or stay — " He 
 smote his leg. " Didn't T tell you old Worthyvale 
 would turn out the usefullest man on board ? " he 
 cried triumphantly, 
 
 207
 
 SIK JOH^ COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 " What's the matter with Worthj\'ale ? " 
 
 " While we've been talking, Worthyvale has been 
 doing. What has he been doing ? Why, breaking up 
 the ballast, and, if I'm not mistaken, into stones of 
 the very size to load this gun." 
 
 " Give Badcock and me some share of credit," 
 pleaded Mr. Fett. " Speaking less as an expert than 
 from an imagination quickened by terror of all mis- 
 siles, I suggest that a hundredweight or so of empty 
 bottles, nicely broken up, would lend a d d dis- 
 agreeable diversity to the charge " 
 
 " Xot a bad idea at all," agreed my father. 
 
 " And a certain sting to our defiance ; since I un- 
 derstand these ruffians drink nothing stronger than 
 water," Mr. Fett concluded. 
 
 We spent the next half-hour in dragging the gun 
 aft, and fetching up from the hold some twenty bas- 
 ket-loads of stone. It required a personal appeal 
 from my father before old Worthyvale would part 
 with so much of his treasure. 
 
 During twenty minutes of this time, the xebec, 
 having picked up with the stronger breeze, had been 
 shortening her distance (as Captain Pomery put it) 
 hand-over-fist. But no sooner had we loaded the 
 little gun and trained her ready for use, than my 
 father, pausing to mop his brow, cried out that the 
 Moor was losing her breeze again. She perceptibly 
 
 208
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 slackened way, and before long the water astern of 
 her ceased to he ruffled. An oily calm spreading 
 across the sea from shoreward overhauled her by 
 degrees, overtook, and held her, with sails idle and 
 sheets tautening and sagging as she rolled on the 
 heave of the swell. 
 
 Captain Pomery promptly checked our rejoicing, 
 telling us this was about the worst that could hap- 
 pen. " We shall carry this wind for another ten 
 minutes at the most," he assured us. " And these 
 devils have boats." 
 
 So it proved. Within ten minutes our booms were 
 swinging uselessly; the sea spread calm for miles 
 around us ; and we saw no fewer than three boats 
 being lowered from the xebec, now about four miles 
 away. 
 
 " There is nothing but to wait for 'em," said my 
 father, seating himself on deck with his musket 
 across his knees. " Mr. Badcock ! " 
 
 "Sir?" 
 
 " To-day is Sunday." 
 
 " It is, sir. Six days shalt thou labour and do 
 all thou hast to do, but on the Seventh day (if you'll 
 excuse me) there's a different kind of feeling in the 
 air. At home, sir, I have observed that even the 
 rooks count on it." 
 
 " You have a fine voice, Mr. Badcock, and 
 
 209
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 have been, as I gather, an attentive hearer of ser- 
 mons." 
 
 " I may claim that merit, sir." 
 
 " If you can remember one sufficiently well to re- 
 hearse it to us, I feel that it would do us all good." 
 
 Mr. Badcock coughed. " Oh, sir," he protested, 
 " I couldn't ! I reelly couldn't. You'll excuse me, 
 but I hold very strong opinions on unlicensed preach- 
 ing." He hesitated ; then suddenly his brow cleared. 
 " But I can read you one, sir. Reading one is al- 
 together another matter." 
 
 " You have a book of sermons on board? " 
 
 " Before starting, sir, happening to cast my eye 
 over the bookcase in the bedroom ... a volume of 
 Dr. South's, sir, if you'll excuse my liberty in bor- 
 rowing it." 
 
 He ran and fetched the volume, while we disposed 
 ourselves to listen. 
 
 " Where shall I begin, sir ? " 
 
 " Wherever you please. The book belongs to my 
 brother Gervase ; for myself I have not even a bow- 
 ing acquaintance with the good Doctor." 
 
 " The first sermon, sir, is upon Human Perfec- 
 tion." 
 
 " It should have been the last, surely ? " 
 
 " Not so, sir ; for it starts with Adam in the 
 Garden of Eden." 
 
 210
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 " Let us hear, then." 
 
 Mr. Badcock cleared his throat and read: 
 
 The image of God in man is that universal rectitude of all 
 the faculties of the soul, by which they stand apt and dis- 
 posed to their respective offices and operations. 
 
 " Hold a moment/' interrupted my father, whose 
 habit of commenting aloud in church had often dis- 
 concerted Mr. Grylls. " Are you quite sure, Mr. 
 Badcock, that we are not starting with the Doctor's 
 peroration ? " 
 
 " This is the first page, sir." 
 
 " Then the Doctor himself began at the wrong end. 
 Prosper, will you take a look astern and report me 
 how many boats are coming ? " 
 
 " Three, sir," said I. " The third has just pushed 
 off from the ship." 
 
 " Thank you. Proceed, Mr. Badcock." 
 
 And first for its noblest faculty, the understanding. It 
 was then subUme, clear, and aspiring, and as it were the soul's 
 upper region, lofty and serene, free from the vapours and dis- 
 turbances of the inferior affections. . . . Like the sun it 
 had both light and agiUty; it knew no rest but in motion; 
 no quiet but in activity. ... It did arbitrate upon the sev- 
 eral reports of sense, and all the varieties of imagination ; not 
 like a drowsy judge, only hearing, but also directing their 
 verdict. In sum, it was vegete, quick, and lively; open as the 
 day. untainted as the morning, full of the innocence and 
 sprightliness of youth; it gave the soul a bright and a full 
 view into all things. 
 
 211
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAXTIXE 
 
 " A fine piece of prose," remarked Mr. Fett as 
 Mr. Badeock drew breath. 
 
 " A fine fiddlestick, sir ! " quoth my father. " The 
 man is talking largely on matters of which he can 
 know nothing; and in five minutes (I bet you) he 
 will come a cropper." 
 
 Mr. Badeock resumed: 
 
 For the understanding speculative there are some general 
 maxims and notions in the mind of man, which are the rules 
 of discourse and the basis of all philosophy. 
 
 " As, for instance, never to beg the question," 
 snapped my father, who from this point let scarce a 
 sentence pass without pishing and pshawing. 
 
 Now it was Adam's happiness in the state of innocence to 
 have these clear and unsulhed. He came into the world a 
 philosopher 
 
 (" Instead of which he went and ate an apple.") 
 
 He could see consequents yet dormant in their principles, 
 and effects yet unborn and in the womb of their causes. 
 
 ("'Tis a pity, then, he took not the trouble to 
 warn Eve.") 
 
 His understanding could almost pierce to future contin- 
 gencies. . . . 
 
 ("Ay, 'almost' The fellow begins to scent mis- 
 
 212
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 chief, and thinks to set himself right with a saving 
 clause. Why 'almost'?") 
 
 his conjectures improving even to prophecy, or to certainties 
 of prediction. Till his fall he was ignorant of nothing but 
 sin; or, at least, it rested in the notion without the smart 
 of the experiment. 
 
 My father stamped the butt of his musket upon 
 deck. " ' Rested in the notion/ did it ? Xothing of 
 the sort, sir ! It rested in the apple, which he was 
 told not to eat ; but, nevertheless, ate. Born a phi- 
 losopher, was he ? And knew the effect of every 
 cause without knowing the difference between good 
 and evil ? Why, man, 'twas precisely against becom- 
 ing a philosopher that the Almighty took pains to 
 warn him ! " 
 
 Mr. Badcock hastily turned a page. 
 
 The image of God was no less resplendent in that which 
 we call man's practical understanding — namely, that store- 
 house of the soul in which are treasured up the rules of action 
 and the seeds of morality. Now of this sort are these 
 maxims: "That God is to be worshipped," "That parents 
 are to be honoured," "That a man's word is to be kept." 
 It was the privilege of Adam innocent to have these notions 
 also firm and untainted 
 
 My father flung up both hands. " Oh ! So Adam 
 honoured his father and his mother ? " 
 
 " Belike," suggested Billy Priske, scratching his 
 
 213
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTAXTINE 
 
 head, " Eve was expectin', and he invented it to keep 
 her spirits up," 
 
 " I assure you, sir," Mr. Badcock protested with 
 dignity, '^ Dr. South was the most admired preacher 
 of his day. Her late Majesty offered him the Dean- 
 ery of Westminster." 
 
 " I could have found a better preferment for him, 
 then ; that of Select Preacher to the Marines." 
 
 " If you will have patience, sir " 
 
 " Prosper, how near is the leading boat? " 
 " A good mile away, sir, as yet." 
 " Then I will have patience, Mr. Badcock." 
 " The Doctor, sir, proceeds to make some observa- 
 tions on Love, with which you will find yourself able 
 to agree. ' Love/ he says, 
 
 ' is the great instrument and engine of Nature, the bond and 
 cement of society ; the spring and spirit of the universe. . . . 
 Now this affection in the state of innocence was happily 
 pitched upon its right object ' " 
 
 " ' Happily,' did you say ? ' Happily ? ' Why, 
 good Heavens, sir ! how many women had Adam to 
 go gallivanting after? Enough, enough, gentlemen! 
 To your guns ! and in the strength of a faith which 
 must be strong indeed, to have survived its ex- 
 positors ! " 
 
 By this time, through our glasses, we could dis- 
 
 214
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 eern the faces of the pirates, who, crowded in the 
 bows and stern-sheets of the two leading boats, 
 weighted them almost to the water's edge. The third 
 had dropped, maybe, half a mile behind in the race, 
 but these two came on, stroke for stroke, almost level 
 — each measuring, at a guess, some sixteen feet, and 
 manned by eight rowers. They bore do^vn straight 
 for our stern, until within a hundred yards ; then 
 separated, with the evident intention of boarding us 
 upon either quarter. At fifty yards the musketeers in 
 their bows opened fire, while my father whistled to 
 old Worthyvale, who, during Dr. South's sermon, 
 had been bringing the points of half-a-dozen hand- 
 spikes to a red heat in the galley fire. The two 
 seamen, Nat and I, retorted with a volley, and Nat 
 had the satisfaction to drop the steersman of the boat 
 making towards our starboard quarter. Unluckily, 
 as it seemed — for this was the boat on which my 
 father was training our three-pounder — this threw 
 her into momentary confusion at a range at which he 
 would not risk firing, and allowed her mate to run 
 in first and close with us. The confusion, however, 
 lasted but ten seconds at the most; a second steers- 
 man stepped to the helm ; and the boat came up with 
 a rush and grated alongside, less than half a minute 
 behind her consort. 
 
 Now the Gauntlet, as the reader will remember, 
 
 215
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 sailed in ballast^ and therefore carried herself pretty 
 high in the water. Moreover, our enemies ran in 
 and grappled ns just forward of her quarter, where 
 she carried a movable panel in her bulwarks, to give 
 access to an accommodation ladder. While Nat, 
 Captain Pomery, Mr. Fett, and the two seamen ran 
 to defend the other side, at a nod from my father 
 I thrust this panel open, leapt back, and Mr. Bad- 
 cock aiding, ran the little gim out, while my father 
 depressed its muzzle over the boat. In our excess 
 of zeal we had nearly run her overboard; indeed, I 
 believe that overboard she would have gone had not 
 my father applied the red-hot iron in the nick of 
 time. The explosion that followed not only flung us 
 staggering to right and left, but lifted her on its 
 recoil clean out of her rickety carriage, and kicked 
 her half-way across the deck. 
 
 Recovering myself, I gripped my musket and ran 
 to the bulwark. A heave of the swell had lifted the 
 boat up to receive our discharge, which must have 
 burst point-blank upon her bottom boards; for I 
 leaned over in bare time to see her settling down in 
 a swirl beneath the feet of her crew, who, after vainly 
 grabbing for hold at the Gauntlet's sides, flung them- 
 selves forward and were swimming one and all in a 
 sea already discoloured for some yards with blood. 
 
 My father called to me to fire. I heard ; but for 
 
 216
 
 WE FALL IN WITH A SALLEE ROVER 
 
 the moment the dusky upturned faces with their 
 bared teeth fascinated me. They looked up at me 
 like faces of wild beasts, neither pleading nor hating, 
 and in response I merely stared. 
 
 A cry from the larboard bulwarks aroused me. 
 Three Moors, all naked to the waist, had actually 
 gained the deck. A fourth, with a long knife 
 clenched between his teeth, stood steadying himself 
 by the main rigging in the act to leap; and in the 
 act of turning I saw Captain Pomery chop at his 
 ankles with a cutlass and bring him down. We made 
 a rush on the others. One my father clubbed sense- 
 less with the butt of his musket ; one the two seamen 
 turned and chased forward to the bows, where he 
 leapt overboard ; the third, after hesitating an in- 
 stant, retreated, swung himself over the bulwark, and 
 dropped back into the boat. 
 
 But a second cry from Mr. Fett warned us that 
 more were coming. Mr. Fett had caught up a sack 
 of stones, and was staggering with it to discharge it 
 on our assailants when this fresh uprush brought 
 him to a check. 
 
 " That fellow has more head than I gave him 
 credit for," panted my father. " The gun, lad ! 
 Quick, the gun ! " 
 
 We ran to where the gun lay, and lifted it between 
 us, straining under its weight ; lurched with it to the 
 
 217
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTINE 
 
 side, heaved it up, and sent it over into the second 
 boat with a crash. Prompt on the crash came a yell, 
 and we stared in each other's faces, giddy with our 
 triumph, as John Worthyvale came tottering out of 
 the cook's galley with two fresh red-hot handspikes. 
 The third boat had come to a halt, less than sev- 
 enty yards away. A score of bobbing heads were 
 swimming for her, the nearer ones offering a fair 
 mark for musketry. We held our fire, however, and 
 watched them. The boat took in a dozen or so, and 
 then, being dangerously overcrowded, left the rest 
 to their fate, and headed back for the xebec. The 
 swimmers clearly hoped nothing from us. They fol- 
 lowed the boat, some of them for a long while. 
 Through our glasses we saw them sink one by one. 
 
 218
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 HOW WE LANDED ON THE ISLAND 
 
 " Friend Sancho," said the Duke, " the isle I have promised you 
 can neither stir nor fly. And whether you return to it upon the 
 flying horse, or trudge back to it in misfortune, a pilgrim from 
 house to house and from inn to inn, you will always find your isle 
 just where you left it, and your islanders with the same goodwill 
 to welcome you as they ever had." — Don Quixote. 
 
 !N'iGHT fell, and the xebec had made no further 
 motion to attack: but yet, as the calm held, Captain 
 Pomery continued gloomy: nor did his gloom lift at 
 all when the enemy, as soon as it was thoroughly 
 dark, began to burn flares and torches. 
 
 " That will he a signal to the shore," said he. 
 " Though, please God, they are too far for it to 
 reach." 
 
 The illumination served us in one way. While it 
 lasted no boat could push out from the xebec without 
 our perceiving it. The fires lasted until after eight 
 bells, when the captain, believing that he scented a 
 breeze ahead, turned us out into the boat again, to 
 tow the ketch towards it. For my part, I tugged and 
 sweated but scented no breeze. On the contrarv, the 
 
 219
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 night seemed intolerably close and sultry, as though 
 brooding a thunderstorm. When the xebec's fires 
 died down, darkness settled on us like a cap. The 
 only light came from the water where our oars 
 swirled it in pools of briming ^ or the tow-rope 
 dropped for a moment and left for another moment 
 a trail of fire. 
 
 ISTeither Mr. Fett nor Mr. Badcock could pull an 
 oar, and old Worthyvale had not the strength for it. 
 The rest of us — all but the captain, who steered and 
 kept what watch he could astern — took the rowing by 
 hourly relays, pair and pair : Billy Priske and I, my 
 father and Mike Halliday, 'Na.t and Roger Wearne. 
 
 It had come round again to Billy's turn and mine, 
 and the hour was that darkest one which promises the 
 near daylight. Captain Pomery, foreboding that 
 dawn would bring with it an instant need of a clear 
 head, and being by this time overweighted with 
 drowsiness, had stepped below for forty winlvs, leav- 
 ing Wearne in charge of the helm. My father and 
 ISTat had tumbled into their berths. We had left Mr. 
 Badcock stationed and keeping watch on the larboard 
 side, near the waist ; and now and then, as we tugged, 
 I fancied I could see the dim figures of Mr. Fett 
 and Mike Halliday standing above us in converse 
 near the bows. 
 
 ^ Phosphorescence. 
 220
 
 HOW WE LANDED ON THE ISLAND 
 
 Of imminent danger — danger close at hand — T 
 had no fear at all, trusting that the still night would 
 carry any sound of mischief, and moreover that no 
 boat could approach without being signalled, a hun- 
 dred yards off, by the briming in the water. So 
 intolerably hot and breathless had the night become 
 that I spoke to Billy to easy a stroke while I pulled 
 off my shirt. I had drawn it over my head and was 
 slipping my arms clear of the sleeves^ when I felt, 
 or thought I felt, a light waft of wind on my right 
 cheek — the first breath of the gathering thunder- 
 storm — and turned up my face towards it. At that 
 instant I heard a short warning cry from somewhere 
 by the helm ; not a call of alarm, but just such a 
 gasp as a man will utter when slapped on the shoul- 
 der at unawares from behind ; then a patter of 
 naked feet rushing aft ; then a score of outcries blend- 
 ing into one wild yell as a whole boatload of Moors 
 leapt and swarmed over the starboard bulwark. 
 
 The tow-rope, tautening under the last stroke of 
 our oars, had drawn the boat back in its recoil, and 
 she now drifted close under the Gauntlet's jibboom, 
 which ran out upon a very short bowsprit. I stood 
 up, and, reaching for a grip on the dolphin-striker, 
 swung myself on to the bobstay and thence to the 
 cap of the bowsprit, where I sat astride for a moment 
 while Billy followed. We were barefoot both and 
 
 221
 
 SIR JOHN COA^STAXTIXE 
 
 naked to the waist. Cautiously as a pair of cats 
 we worked along the bowsprit to the foremast-stay, 
 at the foot of which the foresail lay loose and ready 
 for hoisting. With a fold of this I covered myself 
 and peered along the pitch-dark deck. 
 
 No shot had been fired. I could distinguish no 
 sound of struggle, no English voice in all the din. 
 The ship seemed to be full only of yellings, rushings 
 to-and-fro of feet, wild hammerings upon timber, 
 solid and hollow : and these pell-mell noises made the 
 darkness, if not darker, at least more terribly con- 
 fusing. 
 
 The cries abated a little; the noise of hammering 
 increased, and at the same time grew persistent and 
 regular, almost methodical. I had no sooner guessed 
 the meaning of this — that the ruffians were fastening 
 down the hatches on their prisoners — than one of 
 them, at the far end of the ship, either fetched or 
 found a lantern, lit it, and stood it on the after- 
 hatch. Its rays glinted on the white teeth and eye- 
 balls, and dusky, shining skins of a whole ring of 
 Moors gathered around the hatchway and nailing all 
 secure. 
 
 Now for the first time it came into my mind that 
 these rovers spared to kill while there remained a 
 chance of taking their prisoners alive ; that their prey 
 was ever the crew before the cargo; and that, as 
 
 222
 
 now WE LANDED OX THE ISLAND 
 
 for the captured vessel, they usually scuttled and 
 sank her if she drew too much water for their shallow 
 harbours, or if (like the Gauntlet) she lacked the 
 speed for their trade. The chances were, then, that 
 my father yet lived. Yet how could I, naked and 
 unarmed, reach to him or help him ? 
 
 A sound, almost plumb beneath me, recalled me to 
 more selfish alarms. The Moors, whether they came 
 from the xebec or, as we agreed later, more probably 
 from shore, in answer to the xebec's signal-lights — 
 must have dropped down on us without stroke of oars. 
 It may be that for the last half a mile or more they 
 had wriggled their boat down to the attack by means 
 of an oar or sweep shipped in the stem-notch: a de- 
 vice which would avoid all noise and, if they came 
 slowly, all warning but the ripple of briming off the 
 bows. In anv case thev had not failed to observe 
 that the ketch was being towed ; and now, having 
 discharged her boarding-party, their boat pushed for- 
 ward to capture ours, which lay beneath us bumping 
 idly against the Gauntlet's stem. I heard some half 
 a dozen of them start to jabber as they found 
 it empty. I divined — I could not see — the aston- 
 ishment in their faces as they stared up into the 
 darkness. 
 
 Just then — perhaps in response to their cries — a 
 comrade on deck ran forward to the bows and leaned 
 
 223
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 over to hail them^ standing so close to me that his 
 shoulder brushed against the fold of the foresail 
 within which I cowered. Like me, he was bare to 
 the waist, but around his loins he wore a belt scaled 
 with silver sequins that glimmered in the far rays 
 of the lantern, or perhaps in the first weak light of 
 the approaching dawn . . . 
 
 I know not what madness took me at the sight : but 
 in a sudden rage I gripped the forestay with my left 
 hand, lowered my right, and, slipping my fingers 
 under his belt, lifted him — he was a light man — 
 swung him outboard and overboard, and dropped him 
 into the sea. 
 
 I heard the splash with which he struck the water: 
 an ugly thud too, which told me that some part of 
 him had struck the boat's gunwale. I waited — it 
 seemed that I waited many seconds — expecting the 
 answering yell ... or a shot perhaps. Still grip- 
 ping the forestay with my left hand, I bent forward, 
 ready to leap for deck. But even as I bent thus, 
 the bowsprit shook under me like a whip and the 
 deck before me opened in a yellow sheet of fire. The 
 whole ship seemed to burst asunder and shut again 
 as the flame of the explosion went wavering up the 
 rigging, and I found myself hanging on to the fore- 
 stay for dear life and dangling over emptiness. 
 While I dangled I heard in the roaring echoes an- 
 
 224
 
 HOW WE LANDED ON THE ISLAXL 
 
 other splash, and knew that Billy Priske had been 
 thrown from his hold; a splash, and close upon it 
 a heavy, grinding sound, a crash of hurst planks, 
 an outcry ending in a wail as the lifting sea bore 
 back the Moors' boat and our own together upon the 
 Gauntlet's stem and smashed them like eggshells. 
 
 Then, as the ketch heaved and heaved again in the 
 light of the flames that ran up the tarry rigging, at 
 one rush the da^vn broke ; with no flush of sunshine, 
 but with a grey, steel-coloured ray that cut the dark- 
 ness around us like a sword. I had managed to hoist 
 myself again astride the bowsprit, and, clinging so, 
 had time in one glance aft to take in the scene of 
 ruin. Yet in that glance I saw it — the yawning hole, 
 the unheaved, jagged deck-planks, the dark bodies 
 hurled to right and left into the scuppers — by three 
 separate lights : by the yellow light of the flames in 
 the rigging, by the steel-grey light of dawn, and by 
 a sudden white hot-flash as the lightning ripped open 
 the belly of heaven and let loose the rain. While I 
 blinked in the glare, the mizzen-mast crashed over- 
 side. I cannot tell whether the lightning struck and 
 split it or whether, already blasted by the explosion, 
 it had stood uj^right for those few seconds until a 
 heave of the swell snapped the charred stays and re- 
 leased it. Nay, even the dead beat of the rain may 
 have helped. 
 
 225
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAKTINE 
 
 In all my life I have never known such rain. Its 
 noise drowned the thunderclap. It fell in no drops 
 or threads of drops, but in one solid flood as from 
 a burst bag. It extinguished the blaze in the rig- 
 ging as easily as you would blow out a candle. It 
 beat me down prone upon the bowsprit, and with 
 such force that I felt my ribs giving upon the tim- 
 ber. It stunned me as a bather is stunned who, 
 swimming in a pool beneath a waterfall, ventures his 
 head into the actual cascade. It flooded the deck so 
 that two minutes later when I managed to lift my 
 head I saw the bodies of two Moors washed down the 
 starboard scuppers and clean through a gap in the 
 broken bulwark, their brown legs lifting as they 
 toppled and shot over the edge. 
 
 JSTo wind had preceded the storm. The lightning 
 had leapt out of a still sky — still, that is, until 
 jarred and set vibrating by the explosion. But now, 
 as the downpour eased, the wind came on us with 
 a howl, catching the ship so fierce a cuff, as she 
 rolled with mainsail set and no way on her, that 
 she careened until the sea ran in through her lee 
 scuppers, and, for all the loss of her mizzen-mast, 
 came close to being thrown on her beam ends. 
 
 While she righted herself — which she began to do 
 but slowly — I leapt for the deck and ran aft, avoid- 
 ing the jagged splinters, in time to catch sight of 
 
 226
 
 HOW WE LANDED OX THE ISLAND 
 
 my father's head and shoulders emerging through the 
 burst hatchway. 
 
 " Hullo ! " he sang out cheerfully, lifting his voice 
 against the wind. " God be praised, lad ! I was 
 fearing we had lost you." 
 
 " But what has happened ? " I shouted. 
 • Before he could answer a voice hailed us over 
 stern, and we hurried aft to find Billy Priske drag- 
 ging himself towards the ship by the raffle of mizzen- 
 rigging. We hoisted him in over the quarter and 
 he dropped upon deck in a sitting posture. 
 
 " Is my head on ? " he asked, taking it in both 
 hands. 
 
 " You are hurt, Billy ? " 
 
 " Net's I know by," answered Billy, and stared 
 about him. " What's become o' the brown vermin ? " 
 
 " They seem to have disappeared," said my father, 
 likewise looking about him. 
 
 " But what on earth has happened ? " I persisted, 
 catching him by the shoulder and shouting in his 
 ear above the roar of a second sudden squall. 
 
 " I — blew up — the ship. Captain wouldn't listen 
 — academical fellows, these skippers — like every one 
 else brought up in a profession. So I mutinied and 
 blew — her — up. He's wounded, by the way." 
 
 " Tell you what," yelled Billy, staggering up, 
 " we'll be at the bottom in two shakes if somebody 
 
 227
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 don't handle her in these puffs. Why, where's the 
 wheel ? " 
 
 " Gone," answered mj father. " Blown away, it 
 appears." 
 
 " And she don't right herself! " 
 
 " Ballast has shifted. The gunpowder blew it 
 every way. Well, well — poor old John Worthy- 
 vale won't mourn it. I left him below, past praying 
 for." 
 
 " Look here, Master Prosper," shouted Billy. 
 " If the ship won't steer we must get that mains'l 
 in or we're lost men. Run you and cast off the 
 peak halliards while I lower. The Lord be praised, 
 here's Mike, too," he cried as Mike Halliday ap- 
 peared at the hatchway, nursing a badly burnt arm. 
 " Glad to see ye, Mike, and wish I could say the 
 same to poor Roger. The devils knifed poor Roger, 
 I reckon." 
 
 " ^o, they did not," said my father in a lull of 
 the wind. " They knocked him on the back of the 
 head and slid his body do\vn the after-companion. 
 The noise of him bumping down the ladder was what 
 first fetched me awake. He's a trifle dazed yet, but 
 recovering." 
 
 " 'Tis a short life he'll recover to, unless we stir 
 ourselves." Billy clutched my father's arm. " Look 
 'ee, master! See what they heathens be doin'! " 
 
 228
 
 HOW WE LANDED OX THE ISLAXD 
 
 " We have scared 'em," said my father. " They 
 are putting about." 
 
 ^^ Something has scared 'em, sure 'nough. But if 
 'tis from us they be in any such hurry to get away, 
 wliy did they take in a reef before putting the helm 
 over? No, no, master: they know the weather here- 
 abouts, and we don't. We've been reckonin' this for 
 a thunderstorm — a short blow and soon over. They 
 know better, seemin' to me. Else why don't they 
 tack alongside and finish us ? " 
 
 " I believe you are right," said my father, after a 
 long look to windward. 
 
 " And I'm sure of it," insisted Billy. " What's 
 more, if we can't right the ballast a bit and get steer- 
 age way on her afore the sea works up, she'll go 
 dowTi under us inside the next two hours. There's 
 the pumps, too : for if she don't take in water like 
 a basket I was never born in Wendron parish an' 
 tauglit blastin'. Why, master, you must ha' blown 
 the very oakum out of her seams ! " 
 
 My father froAraed thoughtfully. " That's true," 
 said he : ''I have been congratulating myself too 
 soon. Billy, in the absence of Captain Pomery I ap- 
 point you skipper. You have an ugly job to face, 
 but do your best." 
 
 " Skipper, be I ? Then right you are ! " answered 
 Billy with a cheerful smile. " xin' the first order is 
 
 229
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 for you and Master Prosper here to tumble below 
 an' heft ballast for your lives. Be the two specimens 
 safe ? " 
 
 "Eh?" It took my father a second, maybe, 
 to fit this description to Messrs. Badcock and Fett. 
 " Ah, to be sure ! Yes, I left them safe and un- 
 hurt." 
 
 " What's no good never comes to harm," said Billy. 
 " Send 'em on deck, then, and I'll put 'em on to the 
 pumps." 
 
 We left Billy face to face with a job which in- 
 deed looked to be past hope. The wheel had gone, 
 and with it the binnacle ; and where these had stood, 
 from the stump of the broken mizzen-mast right aft 
 to the taffrail, there yawned a mighty hole fringed 
 with splintered deck-planking. The explosion had 
 gutted after-hold, after-cabin, sail-locker, and laid 
 all bare even to the stern-post. 'Twas a marvel the 
 stern itself had not been blown out: but as a set-off 
 against this mercy — and the most grievous of all, 
 though as yet we had not discovered it — we had 
 lost our rudder-head, and the rudder itself hung by 
 a single pintle. 
 
 " Xevertheless," maintained my father as we 
 toiled together upon the ballast, " I took the only 
 course, and in like circumstances I would venture it 
 again. The captain very properly thought first of 
 
 230
 
 HOW WE LAXDED OX THE ISLAND 
 
 his ship: but I preferred to think that we were in 
 a hurry." 
 
 " How did you contrive it ? " I asked, pausing to 
 ease my back and listening for a moment to the sound 
 of hatchets on deck. (They were cutting away the 
 tangle of the mizzen-rigging.) 
 
 " Very simply," said he. " There must have been 
 a dozen hammering on the after-hatch, and I guessed 
 they would have another dozen looking on and offer- 
 ing advice: so I sent Halliday to fetch a keg of 
 powder, and poured about half of it on the top stair 
 of the companion. The rest Halliday took and 
 heaped on a sea-chest raised on a couple of tables 
 close under the deck. We ran up our trains on a 
 couple of planks laid aslant, and touched off at a 
 signal. There were two explosions, but we timed 
 them so prettily that I believe they went off in one." 
 
 " They did," said I. 
 
 " My wits must have been pretty clear, then — at 
 the moment. Afterwards (I don't mind confessing 
 to you) I lay for some minutes where the explosion 
 flung me. In my hurry I had overdone the dose 
 somewhat." 
 
 We had been shovelling for an hour and more. 
 Already the ship began to labour heavily, and my 
 father climbed to the deck to observe the alteration 
 in her trim. He dropped back and picked up his 
 
 231
 
 Sm JOHX CONSTANTINE 
 
 shovel again in a chastened silence. In fact Deputy- 
 captain Priske (who had just accomplished the tick- 
 lish task of securing the rudder and lashing a couple 
 of ropes to its broken head for steering-gear) had 
 ordered him back to work^ using language not un- 
 mixed with objurgation. 
 
 For all our efforts the Gauntlet still canted heavily 
 to leeward, and as the gale grew to its height the 
 little canvas necessary to heave-to came near to 
 drowning us. Towards midnight our plight grew so 
 desperate that Billy, consulting no one, determined 
 to risk all — the unknown dangers of the coast, his 
 complete ignorance of navigation, the risk of present- 
 ing her crazy stern-timbers to the following seas — 
 and run for it. At once we were called up from the 
 hold and set to relieve the half-dead workers at the 
 pumps. 
 
 All that night we ran blindly, and all next day. 
 The gale had southerned and we no longer feared 
 a lee-shore: but for forty-eight hours we lived with 
 the present knowledge that the next stern-wave might 
 engulf us as its predecessor had just missed to do. 
 The waves, too, in this inland sea, were not the great 
 rollers — the great kindly giants — of our Atlantic 
 gales, but shorter and more vicious in impact: and, 
 under Heaven, our only hope against them hung by 
 the two ropes of Billy's jury steering-gear. 
 
 232
 
 HOW WE LANDED ON THE ISLAND 
 
 They served us nobly. Towards sunset of the sec- 
 ond day, altliough to eye and ear the gale had not 
 sensibly abated^ and the sea ran by us as tall as 
 ever, we knew that the worst was over. We could 
 not have explained our assurance. It was a feeling 
 — no more — but one which anv man will recognise 
 who has outlived a like time of peril on the sea. We 
 did not hope again, for we were past the effort to 
 hope. Numb, drenched, our very skins bleached like 
 a washerw^oman's hands, our eyes caked with brine, 
 our limbs so broken with weariness of the eternal 
 pumping that wdien our shift was done, where we fell 
 there we lav, and had to be kicked aside — we had 
 scarcely the spirit to choose between life and death. 
 Yet all the while we had been fighting for life like 
 madmen. 
 
 Towards the close of the day, too, Roger Wearne 
 had made shift to crawl on deck and bear a hand. 
 Captain Pomery lay in the huddle of the forecastle, 
 no man tending him : and old Worthyvale awaited 
 burial, stretched in the hold upon the ballast. 
 
 At wdiiles, as my fingers cramped themselves 
 around the handle of the pump, it seemed as though 
 we had been fighting this fight, tholing this misery, 
 gripping the verge of this precipice for years iipon 
 years, and this nightmare sat heaviest npon me w^hen 
 the third morning, broke and T turned in the sudden 
 
 233
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAISTTINE 
 
 blessed simsliiue — but we blessed it not — and saw 
 w^hat age the struggle had written on my father's 
 face. I passed a hand over my dazed eyes, and at 
 that moment Mr. Fett, who had been snatching an 
 hour's sleep below — and no man better deserved it 
 — thrust his head up through the broken hatchway, 
 carolling — 
 
 To all you ladies now at land 
 
 We men at sea indite, 
 But first would have you understand 
 
 How hard it is to write: 
 Our paper, pen and ink, and we 
 Roll up and down our ships at sea, 
 With a fa-Za-LA! 
 
 " Catch him ! " cried my father sharply ; but he 
 meant not Mr. Fett. His eyes were on Billy Priske, 
 who, perched on the temporary platform, where al- 
 most without relief he had sat and steered us, shout- 
 ing his orders without sign of fatigue, sank forward 
 with the rudder-ropes dragging through his hands, 
 and dropped into the hold. 
 
 For me I cast myself down on deck with face up- 
 turned to the sun, and slept. 
 
 I woke to find my father seated close to me, cross- 
 legged, examining a sextant. 
 
 " The plague of it is," he grumbled, " that 
 
 234:
 
 HOW WE Lx\NDED ON THE ISLxVXD 
 
 even supposing myself to have mastered this diabol- 
 ical instrument, we have ne'er a compass on 
 board." 
 
 Glancing aft, I saw that Mike Halliday had taken 
 Billy's place at the helm. At my elbow lay Xat, 
 still sleeping. Mr. Badcock had crawled to the bul- 
 warks and leaned there in uncontrollable sea-sickness. 
 Until the gale was done I believe he had not felt a 
 qualm. Xow, on the top of his nausea he had to 
 endure the raillery of Mr. Eett, whose active fancy 
 had already invented a grotesque and wholly im- 
 truthful accusation against his friend — namely, that 
 when assailed by the Moors, and in the act of being 
 kicked below, he had dropped on his knees and of- 
 fered to turn Mohammedan. 
 
 That evening we committed old Worthyvale's body 
 to the sea: and my father, having taken his first 
 observation at noon, carefully entered the latitude 
 and longitude in liis pocket-book. On consulting the 
 chart we found the alleged bearings somewhere south 
 of Asia-Minor — to be exact, off the coast of Pam- 
 phylia. My father therefore added the word " ap- 
 proximately " to his entry and waited for Captain 
 Pomerv to recover. 
 
 Though the sea went down even more quickly than 
 it had arisen, the pumps kept us fairly busy. All 
 that night, under a clear and starry sky, we steered 
 
 235
 
 Sm JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 for the north-east with the wind brisk upon our star- 
 board quarter. 
 
 I have no chart, 
 
 No compass but a heart, 
 
 quoted I in mischief to Nat. But Nat, having 
 passed through a real gale, had saved not sufficient 
 fondness for his verse to blush for it. We should 
 have been mournful for old Worthyvale, but that 
 night we knew only that it was good, being young, 
 to have escaped death. Under the stars we made bad 
 jokes on Mr. Badcock's sea-sickness and sang in 
 chorus to Mr. Fett's solos: 
 
 With a fa-la, fa-la, fa-la-la! 
 To all you ladies now at land . . . 
 
 Next morning Captain Pomery (whose hurt was 
 a pretty severe concussion of the skull, the explosion 
 having flung him into the panelling of the ship's 
 cabin, and against a knee of a beam) returned to 
 duty and professed himself able, with help, to take 
 a reckoning. He relieved us of another anxiety by 
 producing a pocket-compass from his fob. 
 
 My father held the sextant for him : while Nat, 
 under instructions, worked out the sum. With a 
 compass, upon a chart spread on the deck, I pricked 
 out the bearings — with a result that astonished all 
 as I leapt up and stared across the bows. 
 
 236
 
 HOW WE LANDED OX THE ISLAND 
 
 " Why, lad, by the look of you we should be run- 
 ning ashore ! " exclaimed my father. 
 
 " And so Ave should be at this moment," said I, 
 " were not the reckoning out." 
 
 Captain Pomery reached out for the paper. " The 
 reckoning is right enough," said he after studying 
 it awhile. 
 
 " Then on what land, in Heaven's name, are we 
 running ? " my father demanded testily. 
 
 " Why, on Corsica," I answered, pointing with 
 my compass' foot as he bent over the chart. " On 
 Corsica. Where else ? " 
 
 It wanted between three and four hours of sunset 
 when we made the landfall and assured ourselves 
 that what appeared so like a low cloud on the east- 
 north-eastern horizon was indeed the wished-for 
 island. We fell to discussing our best way to ap- 
 proach it; my father at first maintaining that the 
 coast would be watched by Genoese vessels, and there- 
 fore we should do wisely to take down sail and wait 
 for darkness. 
 
 Against this Captain Pomery maintained — 
 
 1. That we were carrying a fair wind, and the 
 Lord knew how long that would hold. 
 
 2. That the moon would rise in less than 
 three hours after dark, and thenceforth we should 
 
 237
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 run almost the same risk of detection as by day- 
 light. 
 
 3. That in any case we could pass for what we 
 really were, an English trader in ballast, barely 
 escaped from shipwreck, dismasted, with broken 
 steerage, making for the nearest port. " Man," said 
 Captain Pomery looking about him, " we must be 
 a poor set of liars if we can't pitch a yarn on this 
 evidence ! " 
 
 My father allowed himself to be persuaded, the 
 more easily as the argument jumped with his im- 
 patience. Accordingly, we stood on for land, mak- 
 ing no concealment ; and the wind holding steady on 
 our beam, and the sun dropping astern of us in a 
 sky without a cloud, 'twas incredible how soon we 
 began to make out the features of the land. It rose 
 like a shield to a central boss, which trembled, as it 
 were, into view and revealed itself a mountain peak, 
 snow-capped and shining, before ever the purple mist 
 began to slip from the slopes below it and disclose 
 their true verdure. ISTo sail broke the expanse of 
 sea between us and the shore ; and, as we neared it, 
 no scarp of cliff, no house or group of houses broke 
 the island's green monotony. From the water's edge 
 to the high snow-line it might have been built of 
 moss, so vivid its colour was, yet soft as velvet, and 
 softer and still more vivid as we approached. 
 
 238
 
 HOW WE LANDED OX THE ISLAND 
 
 Within two miles of shore, and not long before 
 dark, the wind (as Captain Pomery had promised) 
 broke off and headed us, blowing cool and fresh off 
 the land. I was hauling in the foresheet and be- 
 laying when a sudden waft of fragrance fetched me 
 upright, with head thrown back and nostrils in- 
 haling the breeze. 
 
 " Ay," said my father at my elbow, " there is no 
 scent on earth to compare with it. You smell the 
 maccliia, lad. Drink well your first drauglit of it, 
 delicious as first love." 
 
 " But somewhere — at some time — I have smelt it 
 before," said I. " The same scent, only fainter. 
 Why does it remind me of home ? " 
 
 My father considered. " I will tell you," he said. 
 " In the corridor at home, outside my bedroom door, 
 stands a wardrobe, and in it hang the clothes I 
 wore, near upon twenty years ago, in Corsica. They 
 keep the fragrance of the macchia yet; and if, as a 
 child, you ever opened that wardrobe you recall it 
 at this moment." 
 
 " Yes," said I, " that was the scent." 
 
 My father leaned and gazed at the island with dim 
 eyes. 
 
 Still no sign of house or habitation greeted us as 
 Ave worked by short tacks towards a deep bay which 
 my father, after a prolonged consultation of the 
 
 239
 
 SIE JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 chart, decided to be that of Sagona. A sharp prom- 
 ontory ran out upon its northern side, and within 
 the shelter of this Captain Pomery looked to find 
 good anchorage. But the Gauntlet, after all her bat- 
 tering, lay so poorly to the wind that darkness over- 
 took us a good mile from land, and before we weath- 
 ered the point and cast anchor in a little bight within, 
 the moon had risen. It showed us a steep shore 
 near at hand with many grey pinnacles of granite 
 glimmering high over dark masses of forest trees, and 
 in the farthest angle of the bight its rays travelled 
 in silver down the waters of a miniature creek. 
 
 The hawser ran out into five fathoms of water. 
 We had lost our boat : but Billy Priske had spent his 
 afternoon in fashioning a raft out of four empty 
 casks and half a dozen broken lengths of deck- 
 planking; and on this, leaving the seamen on board, 
 the rest of us pushed off for shore. For paddles we 
 used a couple of spare oars. 
 
 The water, smooth as in a lake, gave us our choice 
 to make a landing where we would. My father, 
 however, who had taken command, chose to steer 
 straight for the entrance of the little creek. There, 
 between tall entrance rocks of granite, we passed 
 straight into the shadow of folding woods where the 
 moon was lost to us. Sounding with our paddles, we 
 found a good depth of water under the raft, lit a 
 
 240
 
 now WE LANDED ON THE TSLAND 
 
 lantern, and pushed on, my father promising that 
 we should discover a village or at least a hamlet at 
 the creek-head. 
 
 " And you will find the inhabitants — your sub- 
 jects, Prosper — hospitable too. Whatever the island 
 may have been in Seneca's time, to deserve the abuse 
 he heaped on it in exile, to-day the Corsicans keep 
 more of the old classical virtues than any nation 
 known to me. In vendetta they will slay one an- 
 other, using the worst treachery ; but a stranger may 
 walk the length of the island unarmed — save against 
 the Genoese — and find a meal at the poorest cottage, 
 and a bed^ however rough, whereon he may lay his 
 head and sleep untroubled by suspicion." 
 
 The raft grated and took ground on a shelving 
 bank of sand : when Nat, who stood forward holding 
 the lantern, made a motion to step on shore. My 
 father restrained him. 
 
 " Prosper goes first." 
 
 I stepped on to the bank. My father, following, 
 stooped, gathered a handful of the fine granite sand, 
 and, holding it in the lantern's light, let it run 
 through his fingers. 
 
 " Hat off, lad ! and salute your kingdom ! " 
 
 " But where," said I, " be my subjects ? " 
 
 It seemed, as we formed ourselves into marching 
 order, that I was on the point to be answered. For 
 
 241
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 above the bank Ave came to a causeway which onr 
 lanterns plainly showed lis to be man''s handiwork ; 
 and, following it round the bend of a valley where 
 a stream sang its way down to the creek, came sud- 
 denly on a flat meadow swept by the pale light and 
 rising to a grassy slope where a score of whitewashed 
 houses huddled around a tall belfry, all glimmering 
 under the moon. 
 
 " In Corsica," repeated my father, leading the way 
 across the meadow, " every householder is a host." 
 
 He halted at the base of the village street. 
 
 " It is curious, however, that the dogs have not 
 heard us. Their barking, as a rule, is something to 
 remember." 
 
 He stepped up to the first house to knock. There 
 was no door to knock upon. The building stood 
 open, desolate. Our lanterns showed the grass grow- 
 ing on its threshold. 
 
 We tried the next and the next. The whole vil- 
 lage lay dead, abandoned. We gathered in the street 
 and shouted, raising our lanterns aloft. Xo voice 
 answered us. 
 
 242
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 HOW WITHOUT FIGHTING OUR ABMY WASTED BY 
 ENCHANTMENT 
 
 Adrian. The air breathes upon us here most sweetly . . , 
 Gonzalo. Here is everything advantageous to life. 
 Ayitonio. True: save means to live. 
 
 Caliban. Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, 
 
 Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt 
 not. ^The Tempest. 
 
 Upon a sudden thought my father hurried us 
 towards the tall belfry. It rose cold and white 
 against the moon, at the end of a nettle-gro^vn lane. 
 A garth of ilex-oaks surrounded it ; and beside it, 
 more than half-hidden by the untrimmed trees, stood 
 a ridiculously squat church. By instinct, or, rather, 
 from association of ideas learnt in Eno-land, I 
 glanced around this churchyard for its gravestones. 
 There were none. Yet for the second time within 
 these few hours I was strangely reminded of home, 
 where in an upper garret were stacked half a dozen 
 age-begrimed paintings on panel, one of which on 
 an idle day two years ago I had taken a fancy to 
 scour with soap and water. The painting repre- 
 
 243
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 sented a tall man, crowned and wearing Eastern 
 armour, with a small slave in short jacket and baggy 
 white breeches holding a white charger in readiness ; 
 all three figures awkwardly drawn and without 
 knowledge of anatomy. For background my scour- 
 ing had brought to light a group of buildings, and 
 among them just such a church as this, with just 
 such a belfry. Of architecture and its different 
 styles I knew nothing; but, comparing the church 
 before me with what I could recollect of the paint- 
 ing, I recognised every detail, from the cupola, high- 
 set upon open arches, to the round, windowless apse 
 in which the building ended. 
 
 My father, meanwhile, had taken a lantern and 
 explored the interior. 
 
 " I know this place," he announced quietly as he 
 reappeared, after two or three minutes, in the ruin- 
 ous doorway : " it is called Paomia. We can bivouac 
 in peace, and I doubt that by searching we could find 
 a better spot." 
 
 We ate our supper of cold bacon and ship-bread, 
 both slightly damaged by sea-water — but the wine 
 solaced us, being excellent — and stretched ourselves 
 to sleep under the ilex boughs, my father undertak- 
 ing to stand sentry till daybreak. Xat and I pro- 
 tested against this, and offered ourselves ; but he cut 
 us short. He had his reasons, he said. 
 
 244
 
 WASTED BY ENCHANTMENT 
 
 It must have been two or even three hours later 
 that I awoke at the touch of his hand on my shoul- 
 der, I stared up through the boughs at the setting 
 moon, and around me at my comrades asleep in the 
 grasses. He signed to me not to awake them, but to 
 stand up and follow him softly. 
 
 Passing through the screen of ilex, we came to a 
 gap in the stone wall of the garth, and through this, 
 at the base of the hillside below the forest, to a sec- 
 ond screen of cypress which opened suddenly upon 
 a semicircle of turf; and here, bathed in the moon's 
 rays that slanted over the cypress-tops, stood a small 
 Doric temple of weather-stained marble, in propor- 
 tions most delicate, a background for a dance of 
 nymphs, a fit tiring-room for Diana and her train. 
 
 Its door — if ever it had possessed one — was gone, 
 like every other door in this strange village. My 
 father led the way up the white steps, halted on the 
 threshold, and, standing aside lest he should block the 
 moonlight, pointed within. 
 
 I stood at his shoulder and looked. The interior 
 was empty, bare of all ornament. On the wall fac- 
 ing the door, and cut in plain letters a foot high, 
 two words confronted me: 
 
 ^lyVOnATPI 2TE<I>ANOnOYAni 
 
 "A tomb?" I asked. 
 
 " Yes, and a kinsman's ; for the Stephanopouli 
 
 245
 
 Sm JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 were of blood the emperors did not disdain to mate 
 with. In the last rally the Turks had much ado with 
 them as leaders of the Moreote tribes around Maina, 
 and north along Taygetus to Sparta. Yes, and there 
 were some who revived the Spartan name in those 
 days, maintaining the fight among the mountains 
 until the Turks swarmed across from Crete, overran 
 Maina, and closed the struggle. Yet there was a man, 
 Constantine Stephanopoulos, the grandfather of this 
 Philopater, who would buy nothing at the price of 
 slavery, but, collecting a thousand souls — men, wom- 
 en, and children — escaped by ship from Porto Vitilo 
 and sailed in search of a new home. At first he had 
 thought of Sicily ; but, finding no welcome there, he 
 came (in the spring of 1675, I think) to Genoa, and 
 obtained leave from the Genoese to choose a site in 
 Corsica." 
 
 " And it was here he planted his colony ? " 
 " In this very valley ; but, mind you, at the price 
 of swearing fealty to the Republic of Genoa — this 
 and the repayment of a beggarly thousand piastres 
 which the Republic had advanced to pay the captain 
 of the ship which brought them, and to buy food and 
 clothing. Very generous treatment it seemed. Yet 
 you have heard me say before now that liberty never 
 stands in its worst peril until the hour of success; 
 then too often men turn her sword against her. So 
 
 246
 
 WASTED BY ENCHAXTMEKT 
 
 these men of Lacedaemon, coming to an island where 
 the rule of Genoa was a scourge to all except them- 
 selves, in gratitude, or for their oath's sake, took 
 sides with the oppressor. Therefore the Corsicans, 
 who never forget an injury, turned upon them, drove 
 them for shelter to Ajaccio, and laid their valley 
 
 desolate; nor have the Genoese power to restore 
 them. 
 
 " Fate, Prosper, has landed you on this very spot 
 
 where your kinsmen found refuge for awhile, and 
 
 broke the ground, and planted orchards, hoping for 
 
 a fair continuance of peace and peaceful tillage. 
 
 " Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum 
 Tendimus in Latium — 
 
 — " How will you read the omen ? " 
 
 " You say," said I, " that had we found our kins- 
 men here we had found them in league against free- 
 dom, and friends of the tyranny we are here to 
 fight?" 
 
 " Assuredly." 
 
 " Then, sir, let me read the omen as a lesson, and 
 avoid my kinsmen's mistake." 
 
 My father smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. 
 " You say little, as a rule, Prosper. It is a good 
 fault in kings." 
 
 We walked back to the churchyard, where Mr. 
 
 247
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 Fett sat up, rubbing his eyes in the dawn, and hailed 
 us; 
 
 " Good morning, signors ! I have been dreaming 
 that I came to a kingdom which, indeed, seemed to 
 be an island, but on inspection proved to be a mush- 
 room. What interpretation have you when a man 
 dreams of mushrooms ? " 
 
 " Why, this," said I, " that we passed some 
 score of them in the meadow below. I saw them 
 plain by the moonlight, and kicked at them to make 
 sure." 
 
 " I did better," said Mr. Fett ; " I gathered a 
 dozen or two in my cap, foreseeing breakfast. Faith, 
 and while you have been gadding I might have added 
 a rasher of bacon. Did you meet any hogs on your 
 way ? But no ; they turned back and took the path 
 that appears to run up to the woods yonder." 
 
 " Hogs ? " queried my father. 
 
 " They woke me, nosing and grunting among the 
 nettles by the wall — lean, brown beasts with Homeric 
 chines, and two or three of them huge as the Boar of 
 Calydon. I was minded to let off my gim at 'em, 
 but refrained upon two considerations — the first, that 
 if they were tame, to shoot them might compromise 
 our welcome here, and perhaps painfully, since the 
 dimensions of the pigs appeared to argue consider- 
 able physical strength in their masters; the second, 
 
 248
 
 WAS'l'KI) BY EXCIIAXTMEXT 
 
 that if wild tliov might be savage enough to defend 
 themselves when attacked." 
 
 " Donhtless," said my father, " they belong to 
 some herdsman in the forest above us, and have 
 strayed down in search of acorns. They cannot be- 
 long to this village." 
 
 " And why, pray ? " 
 
 " Because it contains not a single inhabitant. 
 Moreover, gentlemen, while you were sleeping I have 
 taken a pretty extensive stroll. The vineyards lie un- 
 kempt, the vines themselves unthinned, up to the 
 edge of the forest. The olive-trees have not been 
 tended, but have shed their fruit for years with no 
 man to gather. Many even have cracked and fallen 
 under the weight of their crops. But no trace of 
 beast, wild or tame, did I discover ; no dung, no signs 
 of trampling. The valley is utterly desolate." 
 
 " It grows mushrooms," said Mr. Fett cheerfully, 
 piling a heap of dry twigs ; " and we have ship's 
 butter and a frying-pan." 
 
 " Are you sure," asked Mr. Badcock, examining 
 one, " that these are true mushrooms ? " 
 
 " They were grown in Corsica, and have not sub- 
 scribed to the Thirty-nine Articles ; still, mutatis 
 mutandis, in my belief they are good mushrooms. If 
 you doubt, we can easily make sure by stewing them 
 awhile in a saucepan and stirring them with a silver 
 
 249
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 spoon, or boiling them gently with Mr. Badcock's 
 watch, as was advised by Mr. Locke, author of the 
 famous ' Essay on the Human Understanding.' " 
 
 " Indeed ? " said my father. " The passage must 
 have escaped me." 
 
 " It does not occur in the ' Essay.' He gave the 
 advice at Montpellier to an English family of the 
 name of Robinson; and had they listened to him 
 it would have robbed Micklethwaite's ' Botany of 
 Pewsey and Devizes ' of some fascinating pages." 
 
 Mr. Fett's Story of the Fungi of Montpellier 
 
 " About the year 1677, when Mr. Locke resided 
 at Montpellier for the benefit of his health, and while 
 his famous ' Essay ' lay as yet in the womb of fu- 
 turity, there happened to be staying in the same 
 pension an English family " 
 
 " Excuse me," put in my father, " I do not quite 
 gather where these people lodged." 
 
 " The sentence was faultily constructed, I admit. 
 They were lodging in the same pension as Mr. Locke. 
 The family consisted of a Mrs. Robinson, a widow ; 
 her son Eustace, aged seventeen; her daughter 
 Laetitia, a child of fourteen, suffering from a slight 
 pulmonary complaint; her son's tutor, whose name 
 I forget for the moment, but he was a graduate of 
 
 250
 
 WASTED BY EXCHANTMEXT 
 
 Sidney Sussex, Cambridge, and an ardent botanist ; 
 and a good-natured English female named Maria 
 Wilkins, an old servant whom Mrs. Robinson had 
 brought from home — Pewsey, in Wiltshire — to at- 
 tend upon this Laititia. The Robinsons, you gather, 
 were well-to-do ; they were even well connected ; albeit 
 their social position did not quite warrant their story 
 being included in the late Mr. Darcy Smith's ' Trage- 
 dies and Vicissitudes of Our County Families.' 
 
 " It appears that the lad Eustace, perceiving 
 that his sister's delicate health procured her some 
 indulgences, complained of headaches, which he 
 attributed to a too intense application upon the 
 ' Memorabilia ' of Xenophon, and cajoled his mother 
 into packing him off with the tutor on a holiday 
 expedition to the neighbouring mountains of Gar- 
 rigues. From this they returned two days later, 
 about the time of dejeuner, with a quantity of mush- 
 rooms, which the tutor, who had discovered them, 
 handed around for inspection, asserting them to be 
 edible. 
 
 " The opinion of Mr. Locke being invited, that 
 philosopher took up the position he afterwards elab- 
 orated so ingeniously, declaring that knowledge con- 
 cerning these mushrooms could only be the result of 
 experience, and suggesting that the tutor should first 
 make proof of their innocuousness on his own person. 
 
 251
 
 Sm JOHN COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 Upon this the tutor, a priggish youth, retorted hotly 
 that he should hope his Cambridge studies, for which 
 his parents had pinched themselves by many small 
 economies, had at least taught him to discriminate 
 between the agarici. Mr. Locke in vain endeavoured 
 to divert the conversation upon the scope and objects 
 of a university education, and fell back on suggest- 
 ing that the alleged mushrooms should be stewed, and 
 the stew stirred with a silver spoon, when, if the 
 spoon showed no discolouration, he would take back 
 his opinion that they contained phosphorus in ap- 
 preciable quantities. He was called an empiricist 
 for his pains ; and Mrs. Robinson (who hated a dis- 
 pute and invariably melted at any allusion to the 
 tutor's res angusta domi) weakly gave way. The 
 mushrooms were cooked and pronounced excellent by 
 the entire family, of whom Mrs. Robinson expired 
 at 8.30 that evening, the tutor at 9 o'clock, the faith- 
 ful domestic Wilkins and Master Eustace shortly 
 after midnight, and an Alsatian cook, attached to the 
 establishment, some time in the small hours. The 
 poor child, who had partaken but sparingly, lingered 
 until the next noon before succumbing." 
 
 " A strange fatality ! " commented Mr. Badcock. 
 
 Mr. Fett paused and eyed him awhile in frank ad- 
 miration before continuing. " The wonder to me is 
 vou didn't call it a coincidence," he murmured. 
 
 252
 
 WASTED BY ENCHANTMENT 
 
 " Well, and so it was," said Mr. Badcock, " only 
 the word didn't occur to me." 
 
 " The bodies," resumed Mr. Fett, " in accordance 
 with the by-laws of ^lontpellier, were conveyed to the 
 town mortuary, and there bestowed for the time in 
 open coffins, connected by means of wire attachments 
 with a bell in the r©of — a municipal device against 
 premature interment. The wires also carried a num- 
 ber of small bells very sensitively hung, so that 
 the smallest movement of reviving animation would 
 at once alarm the night-watchman in an adjoining 
 chamber. 
 
 " This watchman, an honest fellow with literary 
 tastes above his calling, was engaged towards mid- 
 night in reading M. de la Fontaine's ' Elegie aux 
 Nymphes de Vaux,' when a sudden, violent jangling 
 fetched him to his feet, with every hair of his head 
 erect and separate. Before he could collect his senses 
 the jangling broke into a series of terrific explosions, 
 in the midst of which the bell in the roof tolled one 
 awful stroke and ceased. 
 
 " I leave to your imagination the sight that met 
 his eyes when, lantern in hand, he reached the mor- 
 tuary door. The collected remains, promiscuously 
 interred next day by the municipality of Montpellier, 
 were, at the request of a brother-in-law of Mrs. 
 Robinson, and through the good ofiices of Mr. Locke, 
 
 253
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 subsequently exhumed and despatched to Pewsey, 
 where they rest under a suitable inscription, locally 
 attributed to the pen of Mr. Locke. His admirers 
 will recognise in the concluding lines that conscien- 
 tious exactitude which ever distinguished the phi- 
 losopher. They run: 
 
 " And to the Memory of one 
 
 Fkitz (? Sempach) 
 
 a Humble Native of Alsace 
 
 whose remains, by Destiny commingled 
 
 with the foregoing, 
 
 are for convenience here deposited. 
 
 II. Kings iv. 39 
 
 " But the extraordinary part of my story, gentle- 
 men, remains to be told. Some six weeks ago, hap- 
 pening, in search of a theatrical engagement, to find 
 myself in the neighbourhood of Stonehenge, I fell 
 in with a pedestrian whose affability of accost invited 
 me to a closer acquaintance. He introduced himself 
 as the Reverend Josias Micklethwaite, a student of 
 ISTature, and more particularly of the mosses and 
 lichens of Wilts. Our liking (I have reason to be- 
 lieve) was mutual, and we spent a delightful ten 
 days in tracking up together the course of the Wilt- 
 shire Avon, and afterwards in perambulating the 
 famous forest of Savernake. Here, I regret to say, 
 a trifling request — for the loan of five shillings, a 
 
 254
 
 WASTED BY ENCHANTMEXT 
 
 temporary accommodation — led to a misunderstand- 
 ing, and put a period to our companionship, and I 
 remain liis debtor but for some hours of profitable 
 intercourse. 
 
 " Coming at the close of a day's ramble to 
 Pewsey, a small town near the source of the Avon, 
 we visited its parish churchyard and happened upon 
 the memorial to the unfortunate Robinsons. An old 
 man was stooping over the turf beside it, engaged m 
 gathering mushrooms, numbers of which gre\» in the 
 grass around this stone, hut nowhere else in the whole 
 enclosure. The old man, who proved to be the sex- 
 ton, assured us not only of this, but also that previ- 
 ous to the interment of the Robinsons no mushrooms 
 had grown within a mile of the spot. He added 
 that, albeit regarded with abhorrence by the more 
 superstitious inhabitants of Pewsey, the fungi were 
 edible, and gave no trouble to ordinary digestions 
 (his own, for example) ; nor upon close examination 
 could Mr. Micklethwaite detect that they differed at 
 all from the common agaricus campestris. So, sirs, 
 concludes my tale." 
 
 Mr. Fett ended amid impressive silence. 
 
 " I don't feel altogether so keen-set as I did five 
 minutes back," muttered Billy Priske. 
 
 " For my part," said Mr. Fett, anointing the 
 gridiron with a pat of ship's butter, ^' I offer no 
 
 255
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 remark upon it beyond the somewhat banal one by 
 which we have all been anticipated by Hamlet: 
 ' There are more things in heaven and earth, 
 Horatio /' 
 
 " Faith, and so there are," broke in Nat 
 Fiennes, catching me on a sudden by the arm. 
 "Listen!" 
 
 High on the forest ridge, far and faint, yet clear 
 over the pine-tops, a voice was singing. 
 
 The voice was a girl's — a girl's, or else some 
 spirit's ; for it fell to us out of the very dawn, paus- 
 ing and anon dropping again in little cadences, as 
 though upon the waft of wing; and wafted with it, 
 wave upon wave, came also the morning scent of the 
 macchia. 
 
 We could distinguish no words, intently though 
 we listened, or no more than one, which sounded like 
 Mortii, mortii, mortu, many times repeated in slow 
 refrain before the voice lifted again to the air. 
 But the air itself was voluble between its cadences, 
 and the voice, though a woman's, seemed to chal- 
 lenge us on a high martial note, half -menacing, half- 
 triumphant. 
 
 Nat Fiennes had sprung to his feet, musket in 
 hand, when another and less romantic sound broke 
 the silence of the near woods; and down through a 
 glade on the slojDe above us, where darkness and day 
 
 256
 
 WASTED BY ENCHAXTMEXT 
 
 yet mingled in a bluish twilight under the close 
 boughs, came scampering back the hogs described 
 to us by Mr. Fett. Apparently they had recovered 
 from their fright, for they came on at a shuffling 
 gallop through the churchyard gate, nor hesitated 
 until well within the enclosure. There, with much 
 grunting, they drew" to a standstill and eyed us, back- 
 ing a little, and sidling off by twos and threes among 
 the nettles under the wall. 
 
 " They are tame hogs run wild," said my father, 
 after studying them for a minute. " They have lost 
 their masters, and evidently hope we have succeeded 
 to the care of their troughs." 
 
 He moistened a manchet of bread from his wine- 
 flask and flung it towards them. The hogs winced 
 away with a squeal of alarm, then took courage and 
 rushed upon the morsel together. The most of them 
 were lean brutes, though here and there a fat sow 
 ran with the herd, her dugs almost brushing the 
 ground. In colour all were reddish-brown, and the 
 chine of each arched itself like a bent bow. Five 
 or six carried formidable tusks. 
 
 These tusks, I thinlc, must have struck terror in 
 the breast of Mr. Badcock, who, as my father enticed 
 the hogs nearer with fresh morsels of bread until 
 they nuzzled close to us, suddenly made a motion to 
 beat them off with the butt of his musket, whereupon 
 
 257
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 the whole herd wheeled and scampered off through 
 the gateway. 
 
 " Why, man," cried my father angrily, " did I 
 not tell you they were tame ! And now you have lost 
 us good provender ! " He raised his gun. 
 
 But here Nat touched his arm. " Let me follow 
 them, sir, and see which way they take. Being so 
 tame, they have likely enough some master or herds- 
 man up yonder " 
 
 " Or herdswoman," I laughed. " Take me with 
 you, Nat." 
 
 " Nay, that I won't," he answered, with a quick 
 blush. " You have the temper of Adonis — 
 
 " Hunting he lov'd, but love he laughed to scorn, 
 
 and I fear his fate for you, one little Adonis among 
 so many boars ! " 
 
 " Then take we," urged Mr. Badcock. " Indeed, 
 sir," he apologised, turning to my father, " the move- 
 ment was involuntary. I am no coward, sir, though 
 a sudden apprehension may for the movement flush 
 my nerves. I desire to prove to you that on second 
 thoughts I am ready to face all the boars in Christen- 
 dom." 
 
 " I did not accuse you," said my father. " But 
 go with Mr. Fiennes if you wish." 
 
 Nat nodded, tucked his musket under his arm, and 
 
 258
 
 WASTED BY ENCHANTMENT 
 
 strode out of the churchyard with i\Ir. Badcock at 
 his heels. By the gateway he halted a moment and 
 listened ; but the voice sang no longer from the ridge. 
 
 We watched the pair as they went up the glade, 
 and turned to our breakfast. Tlie meal over, mv 
 father proposed to me to return to the creek and 
 fetch up a three days' supply of provisions from the 
 ship, leaving Mr. Fett and Billy Priske to guard the 
 camp. (In our confidence of finding the valley in- 
 habited we had brought but two pounds of ship's 
 biscuit, one-third as much butter, and a small keg 
 only of salt pork.) 
 
 We were absent, maybe, for two hours and a half; 
 and on our way back fell in with Billy, who, having 
 suffered no ill effects from his breakfast of mush- 
 rooms (though he had eaten them under protest), was 
 roaming the meadow in search of more. We asked 
 him if the two explorers had returned. 
 
 He answered " No," and that Mr. Fett had 
 strolled up into the wood in search of chestnuts, leav- 
 ing him sentry over the camp. 
 
 " And is it thus you keep sentry? " my father de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Why, master, since this valley has no more 
 tenantry than Sodom or Gomorrah, cities of the 
 plain — " Billy began confidently, but his voice 
 trailed off under mv father's frowTi. 
 
 259
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " You have done ill, the pair of you," said my 
 father, and strode ahead of us across the meadow. 
 
 At the gate of the enclosure he came to an abrupt 
 halt. 
 
 The hogs had returned and were routing among 
 our camp furniture. For the rest, the churchyard 
 was empty. But where were JSTat Fiennes and Mr. 
 Badcock, who had sallied out to follow them? And 
 where was Mr. Fett ? 
 
 We rushed upon the brutes, and drove them squeal- 
 ling out of the gateway leading to the woods. They 
 took the rise of the glade at a gallop, and were lost 
 to us in the undergrowth. We followed, shouting 
 our comrades' names. No answer came back to us, 
 though our voices must have carried far beyond the 
 next ridge. For an hour we beat the wood, keeping 
 together by my father's order, and shouting, now 
 singly, now in chorus. Nat, likely enough, had 
 pressed forward beyond earshot, and led Mr. Bad- 
 cock on with him. But what had become of Mr. 
 Fett, who, as Billy asseverated, had promised to take 
 but a short stroll ? 
 
 My father's frown grew darker and yet darker as 
 the minutes wore on and still no voice answered our 
 hailing. The sun was declining fast when he gave 
 the order to return to camp, which we found as we 
 had left it. We seated ourselves amid the disordered 
 
 260
 
 WASTED BY ENCHAN^TMENT 
 
 baggage, pulled out a ration apiece of salt pork and 
 ship's bread, and ate our supper in moody silence. 
 
 During the meal Billy kept his eye furtively on 
 my father. 
 
 " Master," said he at the close, plucking up cour- 
 age as my father filled and lit a pipe of tobacco, " I 
 be terribly to blame." 
 
 My father puffed, without answering. 
 
 " The Lord knows whether they be safe or lost," 
 went on Billy desperately ; " but we be safe, and 
 those as can ought to sleep to-night." 
 
 Still my father gave no answer. 
 
 " I can't sleep, sir, with this on my conscience — 
 no, not if I tried. Give me leave, sir, to stand sentry 
 while you and Master Prosper take what sleep you 
 may." 
 
 " I don't know that I can trust you," said my 
 father. 
 
 " 'Twas a careless act, I'll allow. But I've a-been 
 your servant. Sir John, for twenty-two year come 
 next Martinmas; and you know — or else you ought 
 to know — that for your good opinion, being set to 
 it, I would stand awake till I watched out every eye 
 in my head." 
 
 My father crammed down the ashes in his pipe, 
 and glanced back at the sun, now dropping into the 
 fold of the glen between us and the sea. 
 
 261
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " I will give you another chance," he said. 
 Thrice that night, my dreams being troubled, I 
 awoke and stretched myself to see Billy pacing 
 grimly in the moonlight between us and the gateway, 
 tholing his penance. I know not what aroused me 
 the fourth time; some sound perhaps. The dawn 
 was breaking, and, half-lifted on my elbow, I saw 
 Billy, his musket still at his shoulder, halt by the 
 gateway as if he, too, had been arrested by the sound. 
 After a moment he turned, quite casually, and 
 stepped outside the gate to look. 
 
 I saw him step outside. I was but half-awake, and 
 drowsily my eyes closed and opened again with a 
 start, expecting to see him back at his sentry-go. 
 He had not returned. 
 
 I closed my eyes again, in no way alarmed as yet. 
 I would give him another minute, another sixty sec- 
 onds. But before I had counted thirty my ears 
 caught a sound, and I leapt up, wide awake, and 
 touched my father's shoulder. 
 
 He sat up, cast a glance about him, and sprang to 
 his feet. Together we ran to the gateway. 
 
 The voice I had heard was the grunting of the 
 
 hogs. They were gathered about the gateway again, 
 
 and, as before, they scampered from us up the glade. 
 
 But of Billy Priske there was no sign at all. 
 
 We stared at each other and rubbed our eyes; we 
 
 262
 
 WASTED BY ENCHANTMENT 
 
 two, left alone out of our company of six. Although 
 the sun would not pierce to the valley for another 
 hour, it slanted already between the pine-stems on 
 the ridge, and above us the sky was light with an- 
 other dav. 
 
 And again, punctual with the dawn, over the ridge 
 a far voice broke into singing. As before, it came 
 to us in cadences descending to a long-drawn refrain 
 — Mortii, mortu, mortu! 
 
 "Billy! Billy Priske! " we called, and listened. 
 
 " Mortu, mortu, mortu! " sang the voice, and died 
 away behind the ridge. 
 
 For some time we stood and heard the hogs crash- 
 ing their way through the undergrowth at the head 
 of the glade, with a snapping and crackling of twigs, 
 which by degrees grew fainter. This, too, died away ; 
 and, returning to our camp, we sat among the bag- 
 gage and stared one another in the face, questioning. 
 
 263
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HOW BY MEANS OF HER SWINE I CAME TO CIRCE 
 
 So saying, I took my way up from the ship and the sea-shore. 
 But on my way, as I drew near through the glades to the home 
 of the enchantress Circe, there met me Hermes with his golden 
 rod, in semblance of a lad wearing youth's bloom on his lip and all 
 youth's charm at its heyday. He clasped my hand and spake 
 and greeted me. "Whither away now, wretched wight, amid 
 these mountain-summits alone and astray? And yonder in the 
 styes of Circe, transformed to swine, thy comrades lie penned and 
 make their lairs!" — Odyssey, Bk. x. 
 
 " Prosper/' said my father seriously, " we must 
 return to the ship." 
 
 " I suppose SO," I admitted ; but with a rising tem- 
 per, so that my tone contradicted him. 
 
 " It is most necessary. We are no longer an army, 
 or even a legation." 
 
 " Nothing could be more evident. You may add, 
 sir, that we are badly scared, the both of us. Yet 
 I don't stomach sailing away, at any rate until we 
 have discovered what has happened to the others." 
 I cast a vicious glance up at the forest. 
 
 " Good Lord, child ! " my father exclaimed. 
 ^' Who was suggesting it ? " 
 
 264
 
 HOW I CAME TO CIECE 
 
 « 
 
 You spoke of returning to the ship." 
 
 " To be sure I did. She can work round to Ajaccio 
 and repair. She will arrive evidently from the verge 
 of total wreck, an ordinary trader in ballast, with 
 nothing suspicious about her. No questions will be 
 asked that Pomerv cannot invent an answer for off- 
 hand. She will be allowed to repair, refit, and sail 
 for reinforcements." 
 
 " Reinforcements ? But where will you find rein- 
 forcements ? " 
 
 " I must rely on Gervase to provide them. Mean- 
 while we have work on hand. To begin with, we 
 must clear up this mystery, which may oblige us to 
 camp here for some time." 
 
 " O— oh ! " said I. 
 
 " You do not suggest, I hope, that we can abandon 
 our comrades, whatever has befallen them ? " 
 
 " My dear father ! " I protested, 
 
 " Tut, lad ! I never supposed it of you. Well, 
 it seems to me we are more likely to clear up the 
 mystery by sitting still than by beating the woods. 
 Do you agree ? " 
 
 " To be sure," said I, " we may spare ourselves the 
 trouble of searching for it." 
 
 " I propose then, as our fir.si move, that wc step 
 down to the ship together and pack Captain Fernery 
 
 off to Ajaccio with his orders " 
 
 265
 
 SIR JOH^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," I interrupted. " You shall 
 step down to the ship, while I wait here and guard 
 the camp." 
 
 " My dear Prosper," said he, " I like the spirit 
 of that offer: but upon my word I hope you won't 
 persist in it. These misadventures, if I may confess 
 it, get me on the raw, and I cannot leave you here 
 alone without feeling damnably anxious." 
 
 " Trust me, sir," I answered, " I shall be at least 
 as uncomfortable until vou return. But I have 
 an inkling that — whatever the secret may be, and 
 whether we surprise it or it surprises us — it will wait 
 until we are separated. Moreover, I have a theory 
 to test. So far every man has disappeared outside 
 the churchyard here and somewhere on the side of 
 the forest. The camp itself has been safe enough, 
 and so have the meadow and the path down to the 
 creek. You will remember that Billy was roaming 
 the meadow for mushrooms at the very time we lost 
 Mr. Fett: yet Billy came to no harm. To be sure 
 the enemy, having thinned us down to two, may ven- 
 ture more boldly ; but if I keep the camp here while 
 you take the path down to the creek, and nothing 
 happens to either, we shall be narrowing the zone 
 of danger, so to speak." 
 
 My father nodded. " You will promise me not to 
 set foot outside the camp ? " 
 
 266
 
 HOW I CAME TO CIRCE 
 
 (C 
 
 I will promise more," said I. " At the smallest 
 warning I am going to let off my piece. You must 
 not be annoyed if I fetch you back on a false alarm 
 or even an absurd one. I shall sit here with my 
 musket across my knees, and half a dozen others, all 
 loaded, close around me: and at the first sign of 
 something -\vrong — at the crackling of a twig, maybe 
 — I shall fire. You, on your way to the creek, will 
 keep your eyes just as wide open and fire at the first 
 hint of danger." 
 
 " I don't like it," my father persisted. 
 
 " But you see the wisdom of it," said I. " "We 
 must stay here: that's agTced. So long as we stay 
 here we shall be desperately uncomfortable, fearing 
 we don't know what: that also is agreed. Then, say 
 I, for God's sake let us clear this business up and 
 get it over." 
 
 My father nodded, stood up, and shouldered his 
 piece. I knew that his eyes were on me and avoided 
 meeting them, afraid for a moment that he was going 
 to say something in praise of my courage, whereas 
 in truth I was horribly scared. That last word or two 
 had really expressed my terror. I desired nothing 
 but to get the whole thing over. My hand shook so 
 as I turned to load the first musket that I had twice 
 to shorten my grasp of the ramrod before I could in- 
 sert it in the barrel. 
 
 267
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTINE 
 
 From the gateway leading to the lane my father 
 watched till the loading was done. " Good-bye and 
 good luck, lad ! " said he and turned to go. A pace 
 or two beyond the gateway he halted as if to add 
 a word, but thought better of it and resumed his 
 stride. His footsteps sounded hollow between the 
 walls of the narrow lane. Then he reached the turf 
 of the meadow, and the sound ceased suddenly. 
 
 I wanted — wanted desperately — to break down 
 and run after him. By a bodily effort — something 
 like a long pull on a rope — I held myself steady and 
 braced my back against the bole of the ilex-tree which 
 I had chosen because it gave a view through the gate- 
 way towards the forest. Upon this opening and the 
 glade beyond it I kept my eyes, for the first minute 
 or two scarcely venturing to wink, only relaxing the 
 strain now and again for a cautious glance to right 
 and left around the deserted enclosure. I could hear 
 my heart working like a pump. 
 
 The enclosure — indeed the whole valley — lay 
 deadly silent in the growing heat of the morning. 
 On the hidden summit behind the wood a raven 
 croaked ; and as the sun mounted, a pair of buzzards, 
 winging their way to the mountains, crossed its 
 glare and let fall a momentary trace of shadow that 
 touched my nerves as with a whip. But few birds 
 haunt the Corsican bush, and to-day even these woods 
 
 268
 
 HOW I CAME TO CIRCE 
 
 and this watered valley were dumb of song. Xo 
 breeze sent a shiver through the grey ilexes or the 
 still paler olives in the orchard to my right. On the 
 slope the chestnut-trees massed their foliage in heavy 
 plumes of green, plume upon plume, wave upon 
 wave, a still cascade of verdure held between jagged 
 ridges of granite. Here and there the granite pushed 
 a bare pinnacle above the trees, and over these pin- 
 nacles the air swam and quivered. 
 
 The minutes dragged by. A caterpillar let itself 
 down by a thread from the end of the bough under 
 which I sat, in a direct line between me and the 
 gateway. Very slowly while I watched him he de- 
 scended for a couple of feet, swayed a little, and hung 
 still, as if irresolute. A butterfly, after hovering for 
 a while over the wall's dry coping, left it and flut- 
 tered aimlessly across the garth, vanishing at length 
 into the open doorway of the church. 
 
 The church stood about thirty paces from my tree, 
 and by turning my head to the angle of my right 
 shoulder I looked straight into its porch. It struck 
 me that from the shadow within it, or from one of 
 the narrow windows, a marksman could make an easy 
 target of me. The building had been empty over- 
 night: no one (it was reasonable to suppose) had en- 
 tered the enclosure during Billy's sentry-go; no one 
 for a certainty had entered it since. Xevertheless 
 
 269
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 the fancy that eyes might be watching me from with- 
 in tlie chnrch began now to worry, and within five 
 minutes had almost worried me into leaving my post 
 to explore. 
 
 I repressed the impulse. I could not carry my 
 stand of muskets with me, and to leave it unguarded 
 would be the starkest folly. Also I had sworn to 
 myself to keej) watch on the gateway towards the 
 forest, and this resolution must obviously be broken 
 if I explored the church. I kept my seat, telling 
 myself that however the others had vanished they had 
 vanished in silence, and therefore all danger from 
 gun-shot might be ruled out of the reckoning. 
 
 I had scarcely calmed myself by these reflections 
 when a noise at some distance up the glade fetched 
 my musket half-way to my shoulder. I lowered it 
 with a short laugh of relief as our friends the hogs 
 came trotting down-hill to the gateway. 
 
 For the moment I was glad; on second thoughts, 
 vexed. They explained the noise and eased my im- 
 mediate fear. They brought back — absurd as it may 
 sound — a sense of companionship : for although half- 
 wild, they showed a disposition to be sociable, and 
 we had found that a wave of the arm sufficed to drive 
 them off when their advances became embarrassing. 
 On the other hand they would certainly distract some 
 attention which I could very ill afford to spare. 
 
 270
 
 HOW I CAME TO CIRCE 
 
 But again I calmed myself, reflecting that if any 
 clanger lurked close at hand, these friendly nuisances 
 might give me some clue to it by their movements. 
 They came trotting down to the entrance, halted, and 
 regarded me, pushing up their snouts and grunting 
 as though uncertain of their welcome. Apparently 
 reassured, they charged through, as hogs will, in 
 a disorderly mob, rubbing their lean flanks against 
 the gateposts, each seeming to protest with squeals 
 against the crush to which he contributed. 
 
 One or two of the boldest came running towards 
 me in the hope of being fed ; but, seeing that I made 
 no motion, swerved as though their courage failed 
 them and stood regarding me sideways with their 
 grotesque little eyes. Finding me still unresponsive, 
 they began 'to nose in the dried grasses with an af- 
 fected unconcern which set me smiling, it seemed so 
 humanlike a pretence under rebuff. The rest, as 
 usual, dispersed under the trees and along the nettle- 
 beds by the wall. It occurred to me that, if I let 
 these gentlemen work round to my rear, they might 
 distract my attention — perhaps at an awkward mo- 
 ment — by nosing up to the forage-bags or upsetting 
 the camp furniture, so with a wave of my musket 
 I headed them back. Thev took the hint obedientlv 
 enough and, wheeling about, fell to rooting between 
 me and the entrance. So I sat mavbe for another 
 
 271
 
 SIR JOHX COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 five minutes, still keeping my main attention on the 
 gateway, but with an occasional glance to right and 
 left, to detect and warn back any fresh attempt to 
 work round my flanks. 
 
 Xow in the act of waving my musket I had hap- 
 pened to catch sight of one remarkably fine hog 
 among the nettles, who^ taking alarm with the rest, 
 had winced away and disappeared in the rear of the 
 church, w^here a narrow alley ran between it and the 
 churchyard wall. If he followed this alley to its 
 end, he would come into sight again around the apse 
 and almost directly on my right flank. I kept my 
 eye lifting towards this corner of the building, wait- 
 ing for him to reappear, which by and by he did, and 
 with a truly porcine air of minding his own business 
 and that only. 
 
 His unconcern was so admirably affected that, to 
 test it, instead of waving him back I lifted my mus- 
 ket very quietly, almost without shifting my position, 
 and brought the butt against my shoulder. 
 
 He saw the movement; for at once, even with his 
 head down in the grasses, he hesitated and came to 
 a full stop. Suddenly as my fingers felt for the 
 trigger-guard my heart began to beat like a hammer. 
 
 There lay my danger; and in a flash I knew it, 
 but not the extent of it. This was no hog, but a 
 man; by the start and the quick-arrested pose in 
 
 272
 
 HOW I CAME TO CIRCE 
 
 which the brute faced me, still with his head low 
 and his eyes regarding me from the grasses, I felt 
 sure of him. But what of the others ? Were they 
 also men? If so, I was certainly lost, but I dared 
 not turn my eyes for a glance at them. \\"ith a sud- 
 den and most natural grunt the brute backed a little, 
 shook his head in disgust, and sidled towards the 
 angle of the building. '' Xow or never," thought I, 
 and pulled the trigger. 
 
 As the musket kicked against me I felt — I could 
 not see — the rest of the hogs swerve in a common 
 panic and break for the gateway. Their squealing 
 took up the roar of the report and protracted it. 
 They were real hogs, then. 
 
 I caught up a second musket and, to make sure, 
 let fly into the mass of them as they choked the 
 gateway. Then, without waiting to see the effect of 
 this shot, I snatched musket number three, and ran 
 through the drifting smoke to where my first victim 
 lay face-downwards in the grasses, his swine's mask 
 bowed upon the forelegs crossed — as a man crosses 
 his arms — inwards from the elbow. As I ran he 
 lifted himself in agony on his knees — a man's knees. 
 I saw a man's hand thrust through the paunch, rij>- 
 ping it asunder; and, struggling so, he rolled slowly 
 over upon his back and lay still. I stooped and tore 
 the mask away. A black-avised face stared up at 
 
 273
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 me, livid beneath its sunburn, with fihned eyes. The 
 eyes stared at me unwinking as I slipped his other 
 hand easily out of its case, which, even at close view, 
 marvellously resembled the cleft, narrow hoof of a 
 hog. I could not disengage him further, his feet 
 being strapped into the disguise with tight leathern 
 thongs; but, having satisfied myself that he was past 
 help, I turned on a quick thought to the gateway 
 again, and ran. 
 
 A second hog — a real hog — lay stretched there on 
 its side, dead as a nail. Its companions, scampering 
 in panic, had by this time almost reached the head 
 of the glade. Forgetting my promise to my father, 
 I started in pursuit. The thought in my mind was 
 that, if I kept them in sight, they would lead me to 
 my comrades; a chance unlikely to return. 
 
 The glade ran up between two contracting spurs 
 of the hill. As I climbed, the belt of woodland nar- 
 rowed on either side of the track, until the side-valley 
 ended in a cross ridge where the chestnuts suddenly 
 gave place to pines and the turf to a rocky soil car- 
 peted with pine-needles. Here, in the spaces between 
 the tree-trunks, I caught my last glimpse of the hogs 
 as two or three of the slowest ran over the ridge and 
 disappeared. I followed, sure of getting sight of 
 them from the summit. But here I found myself 
 tricked. Beyond the ridge lay a short dip — short, 
 
 274
 
 TlOW I CAME TO CIRCE 
 
 that is, as a bird flies. Not more than fifty yards 
 ahead the slope rose again, strewn with granite boul- 
 ders and piled masses of granite such as in Cornwall 
 we call '^ tors " ; and clear aw-ay to the mountain tops 
 stretched a view with never a tree, but a few out- 
 standing bushes only. Yet from ridge to ridge green 
 vegetation filled every hollow, and in the hollow be- 
 tween me and the nearest the hogs were lost. 
 
 I heard, however, their grunting and the snap- 
 ping of boughs in the undergrowth : and in that clear 
 delusive air it seemed but three minutes' work to 
 reach the next ridge. I followed then, confidently 
 enough — and made my first acquaintance with the 
 Corsican macchia by plunging into a cleft twenty 
 feet deep between two rocks of granite. I did not 
 actually fall more than a third of the distance, for 
 I saved myself by clutching at a clematis which laced 
 its coils, thick as a man's wrist, across the cleft. But 
 I know that the hole cannot have been less than 
 twenty feet deep, for I had to descend to the bottom 
 of it to recover mv musket. 
 
 That fall committed me, too. Within five min- 
 utes of my first introduction to the macchia I had 
 learnt how easily a man may be lost in it; and in 
 less than half of five minutes I had lost not only 
 my way but my temper. To pursue after the hogs 
 was nearly hopeless: all sound of them was swal- 
 
 275
 
 Sm JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 lowed up in the tangle of scrub. Yet I held on, 
 crawling through thickets of lentisk, tangling my legs 
 in creepers, pushing my head into clumps of cactus, 
 here tearing my hands and boots on sharp granite, 
 there ripping my clothes on prickly thorns. Once I 
 found what appeared to be a goat-track. It led to 
 another cleft of rock where, beating down the briers, 
 I looked down a chasm which ended, thirty feet 
 below, in a whole brake of cacti. The scent of the 
 crushed plants was divine : and I crushed a plenty of 
 them. 
 
 After a struggle which must have lasted from 
 twenty minutes to half an hour I gained the ridge 
 which had seemed but three minutes away, and there 
 sat down to a silent lesson in geography. I had 
 given up all hope of following the hogs or discover- 
 ing my comrades. I knew now what it means to 
 search for a needle in a bottle of hay, but with many 
 prickles I had gathered some wisdom and learnt 
 that, whether I decided to go forward or to retreat, 
 I must survey the macchia before attempting it 
 again. 
 
 To go forward without a clue would be folly, as 
 well as unfair to my father, whom my two shots must 
 have alarmed. I decided therefore to retreat, but 
 first to mount a craggy pile of granite some fifty 
 yards on my left, which would give me not only a 
 
 276
 
 HOW I CAME TO CIRCE 
 
 better survey of the bush but perhaps even a view 
 over the tree- tops and down upon the bay where the 
 Gauntlet lay at anchor. Tf so, by the movements on 
 board I might learn whether or not my father had 
 reached her with his commands before taking my 
 alarm. 
 
 The crags were not easy to climb: but, having 
 hitched the musket in my bandolier, I could use both 
 hands, and so pulled myself up by the creepers which 
 festooned the rock here and there in swags as thick 
 as the Gauntlet's hawser. Disappointment met me 
 on the summit. The trees allowed me but sight of 
 the blue horizon; thev still hid the shores of the 
 bay and our anchorage. My eminence, however, 
 showed me a track, fairly well defined, crossing the 
 macchla and leading back to the wood. 
 
 I was conning this when a shout in my rear 
 fetched me right-about face. Towards me, down and 
 across the farther ridge, I saw a man running — !N^at 
 Fiennes ! 
 
 He had caught sight of me on my rock against the 
 sky-line, and as he ran he waved his arms frantically, 
 motioning to me to rim also for the woods. I could 
 see no pursuer; but still, as he came on, his arms 
 waved, and were waving yet when a bush on the 
 chine above him threw out a little puff of grey 
 smoke. Toppling headlong into the bushes, he was 
 
 277
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 lost to me even before the report rang on my ears 
 across the hollow. 
 
 I dropped on my knees for a grip on the creepers, 
 swung myself down the face of the crag, and within 
 ten seconds was lost in the macchia again, fighting 
 my way through it to the spot where Nat lay. Wher- 
 ever the scrub parted and allowed me a glimpse I 
 kept my eye on the bush above the chine ; and so 
 with torn clothes and face and hands bleeding, 
 crossed the dip, mounted the slope, and emerged upon 
 a ferny hollow ringed about on three sides with the 
 macchia. There face-downward in the fern lay Nat, 
 shot through the lungs. 
 
 I lifted him against one knee. His eyelids flick- 
 ered and his lips moved to speak, but a rush of 
 blood choked him. Still resting him against my knee, 
 I felt behind me for my musket. The flint was gone 
 from the lock, dislodged no doubt by a blow against 
 the crags. With one hand I groped on the ground 
 for a stone to replace it. My fingers found only a 
 tangle of dry fern, and, glancing up at the ridge, I 
 stared straight along the barrel of a musket. At the 
 same moment a second barrel glimmered out between 
 the bushes on my left. " Signore, favorisca di ren- 
 dersi," said a voice, very quiet and polite. I stared 
 around me, hopeless, at bay: and while I stared and 
 clutched my useless gun, from behind a rock some 
 
 278
 
 now I CAME TO CmCE 
 
 twenty paces up the slope a girl stepped forward, 
 halted, rested the butt of her musket on the stone, 
 and, crossing her hands above the nozzle of it, calmly 
 regarded us. 
 
 Even in my rage her extraordinary wild beauty 
 held me at gaze for a moment. She wore over a loose 
 white shirt a short waist-tunic of faded green velvet, 
 with a petticoat or kilt of the same reaching a little 
 below her knees, from which to the ankles her legs 
 were cased in tight-fitting leathern gaiters. Her 
 stout boots shone with toe-plates of silver or polished 
 steel. A sad-coloured handkerchief protected her 
 head, its edge drawn straight across her brow in 
 a fashion that would have disfigured ninety-nine 
 women in a hundred. But no head-dress availed to 
 disfigure that brow or the young imperious eyes be- 
 neath it. " Are you a friend of this man ? " she 
 asked in Italian. 
 
 " He is my best friend," I answered her in the 
 same language. " Why have you done this to him ? " 
 
 She seemed to consider for a moment, thought- 
 fully, without pity. 
 
 " I can talk to you in French if you find it easier," 
 she said after a pause. 
 
 " You may use Italian," I answered angrily. " I 
 can understand it more easily than you will use it 
 to explain why you have done this wickedness." 
 
 279
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " He was very foolish," she said. " He tried to 
 run away. And you were all very foolish to come as 
 you did. We saw your ship while you were yet four 
 leagues at sea. How have you come here ? " 
 
 " I came here," answered I, " being led by your 
 hogs, and after shooting an assassin in disguise of 
 a hog." 
 
 " You have killed Giuseppe ? " 
 
 " I did my best," said I, turning and addressing 
 myself to three Corsicans who had stepped from the 
 bushes around me. " But whatever your purpose 
 may be, you have shot my friend here, and he is 
 dying. If you have hearts, deal tenderly with him, 
 and afterwards we can talk." 
 
 " He says well," said the girl slowly, and nodded 
 to the three men. " Lift him and bring him to the 
 camp." She turned to me. " You will not resist ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " I will go with my friend," said I. 
 
 " That is good. You may walk behind me," she 
 said, turning on her heel. " I am glad to have met 
 one who talks in Italian, for the rest of your friends 
 can only chatter in English, a tongue which I do 
 not understand. Step close behind me, please; for 
 the way is narrow. For what are you waiting ? " 
 
 " To see that my friend is tenderly handled," I 
 answered. 
 
 280
 
 now 1 CAME TO CIRCE 
 
 " He is past helping," said she carelessly. " He 
 behaved foolishly. You did not stop for Giuseppe, 
 did you ? " 
 
 " I did not." 
 
 " I am not blaming you," said she, and led the 
 
 way. 
 
 281
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 I BECOME HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS CAMILLA 
 
 Silvis te, Tyrrhene, feras agitare putasti? 
 
 Advenit qui vestra dies muliebribus armis 
 
 Verba redarguerit. 
 
 — Virgil, Mneid, xi. 
 
 Ahead of us, beyond the rises and hollows of the 
 macchia, rose a bare mountain summit, not very tall, 
 the ascent to it broken by granite ledges, so that from 
 a distance it almost appeared to be terraced. On a 
 heathery slope at the foot of the first terrace the 
 Corsicans set down poor Xat and spoke a word to 
 their mistress, who presently halted and exchanged 
 a few sentences with them in patois ; whereupon they 
 stepped back a few paces into the macchia, and, hav- 
 ing quickly cut a couple of ilex-staves, fell to 
 plaiting them with lentisk, to form a litter. 
 
 While this was doing I stepped back to my 
 friend's side. His eyes were closed ; but he breathed 
 yet, and his pulse, though faint, was perceptible. A 
 little blood — a very little — trickled from the corner 
 of his mouth. I glanced at the girl, who had drawn 
 near and stood close at my elbow. 
 
 282
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 " Have you a surgeon in your camp ? " I asked. 
 " I believe that a surgeon might save him yet." 
 
 She shook her head. I could detect no pity in 
 her eyes ; only a touch of curiosity, half haughty and 
 in part sullen. " I doubt," she answered, " if you 
 will find a surgeon in all Corsica. I do not believe 
 in surgeons." 
 
 " Then," said I, " you have not lived always in 
 Corsica." 
 
 Her face flushed darkly, even while the disdain in 
 her eyes grew colder, more guarded. 
 
 " What do you mean by that ? " she asked. 
 
 " Why," said I, " you are not one, I believe, to 
 speak so positively in mere ignorance. But see ! " 
 I went on, pointing down upon the bay over which 
 this higher slope gave us a clear view, " there goes 
 the ship that brought us here." 
 
 She gazed at it for a while, with bent brow, evi- 
 dently puzzled. 
 
 " No," said I, watching her, '' I shall not tell you 
 yet why she goes, nor where her port lies. But I 
 have something to propose to you." 
 
 " Say it." 
 
 " It leaves one man behind, and one only, in our 
 camp below. He is my father, and he has some 
 knowledge of surgery; I believe he could save my 
 friend here." 
 
 283
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 She stood considering. " So much was known to 
 me/' she answered at length ; " that, after you, there 
 would be but one left. Three of my men have gone 
 down to take him. He will be here before long." 
 
 " But, pardon me — for as yet I know not whether 
 your aim is to kill us or take us alive " 
 
 She interrupted me with a slight shrug of her 
 shoulders. " I have no wish to kill you. But I must 
 know what brings you here, and the rest can talk 
 nothing but English. As for this one " — with a 
 gesture of the hand towards Nat — " he was foolish. 
 He tried to run away and warn you." 
 
 " Then, signorina, let me promise, who know my 
 father, that you will not take him alive." 
 
 " I have sent three men." 
 
 " You had done better to send thirty ; but even 
 so you will not succeed." 
 
 " I have heard tell/' she said, again with a little 
 movement of her shoulders, " that all Englishmen 
 are mad." 
 
 I laughed; and this laugh of mine had a singular 
 effect on her. She drew back and looked at me for 
 an instant with startled eyes, as though she had never 
 heard laughter in her life before, or else had heard 
 too much. " Tell me what you propose," she said. 
 
 " I propose to send down a message to my father, 
 and one of your men shall carry it with a white 
 
 284
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 flag (for that he shall have the loan of my handker- 
 chief). I will write in Italian, that you may read 
 and know what I say." 
 
 " It is unnecessary." 
 
 " I thank you." I found in my pockets the stump 
 of a pencil and a scrap of paper — an old Oxford bill 
 — and wrote: 
 
 Dear Father, — We are prisoners, and Nat is wounded, 
 but whether past help or not I cannot say. I believe you 
 might do something for him. If it suit your plans, the 
 bearer will give you safe-conduct: if not, I remain your 
 obedient son Prosper. 
 
 I translated this for her, and folded the paper. 
 
 " Marc'antonio ! " she called to one of the three 
 men, who by this time had finished plaiting the 
 litter and were strewing it with fern. 
 
 Marc'antonio — a lean, slight fellow with an old 
 scar on his cheek — stepped forward at once. She 
 gave him my note and handkerchief with instructions 
 to hurry. 
 
 " Excuse me, principessa " — he hesitated, with a 
 glance at me and another at his comrades — " but 
 these two, with the litter, will have their hands full ; 
 and this prisoner is a strong one and artful. Has 
 he not already slain '1 Verro ? " 
 
 " You will mind your own business, Marc'antonio, 
 which is to run as I tell you." 
 
 285
 
 SIR JOH^^ COXSTxVNTIXE 
 
 The man turned without another word, but with 
 a last distrustful look, and plunged do\vn-hill into the 
 scrub. The girl made a careless sign to the others 
 to lay ISTat on his litter and, turning, led the way 
 up the rocky front of the summit, presenting her back 
 to me, choosing the path which offered fewest im- 
 pediments to the litter-bearers in our rear. 
 
 The sun was now high overhead, and beat torridly 
 upon the granite crags, which, as I clutched them, 
 blistered my hands. The girl and the two men 
 (in spite of their burden) balanced themselves and 
 sprang from foothold to foothold with an ease which 
 shamed me. For a while I supposed that we were 
 making for the actual summit; but on the second 
 terrace my captress bore away to the left and led 
 us by a track that slanted across the northern shoul- 
 der of the ridge. A sentry started to his feet and 
 stepped from behind a clump of arid sage-coloured 
 bushes, stood for a moment with the sun glinting 
 on his gun-barrel, and at a sign from the girl 
 dropped back upon his post. Just then, or a mo- 
 ment later, my ears caught the jigging notes of a 
 flute; whereby I knew Mr. Badcock to be close 
 at hand, for it was discoursing the tune of " The 
 Yicar of Bray " ! 
 
 Sure enough as we rounded the slope we came 
 upon him, Mr. Fett, and Billy Priske, the trio seated 
 
 2SG
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 within a semicircle of admiring Corsicans and above 
 a scene so marvellous that I caught my breath. The 
 slope, breaking away to north and east, descended 
 sheer upon a vast amphitheatre filled with green acres 
 of pine forest and pent within walls of porphyry that 
 rose in tower upon tower, pinnacle upon pinnacle, 
 beyond and above the tree-tops ; and these pillars, as 
 they soared out of the gulf, seemed to shake off with 
 difficulty the forest that climbed after them, holding 
 by every nook and ledge in their riven sides — here a 
 dark-foliaged clump caught in a chasm, there a soli- 
 tary trunk bleached and dead but still hanging by 
 a last grip. 
 
 On the edge of this green cauldron the Corsicans 
 and my comrades sat like so many witches, their 
 figures magnified uncannily against the void; and 
 far beyond, above the rose-coloured crags, deep-set in 
 miles of transparent blue, shone the snow-covered 
 central peaks of the island. 
 
 As I rounded the corner Mr. Fett hailed me with 
 a shout and a vocal imitation of a post-horn. 
 
 " Another ! " he cried, and slapped his thigh 
 triumphantly. " Another blossom added to the posy ! 
 Badcock, my flosculet, you owe me five shillings. 
 Permit me to explain, sir " — he turned to me — " that 
 Mr. Badcock has been staking upon an anthology, I 
 upon the full basket and the whole hog. It is cut 
 
 287
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 and come again with these Corsicans; and, talking 
 of hogs " 
 
 His chatter tailed off in a pitiful exclamation as 
 the litter-carriers came around the angle of the ridge 
 with Nat's body between them. 
 
 "' Poor lad ! Ah, poor lad ! " I heard Billy say. 
 Mr. Badcock nervously disjointed his flute. " I 
 warned him, sir. Believe me, my last words were 
 that, being in Rome, so to speak, he should do as 
 the Romans did " 
 
 " There is one more," announced the girl to her Cor- 
 sicans, "and I have sent for him. He will come under 
 conduct; and, meanwhile, I have to say that any man 
 who offers to harm this prisoner, here, will be shot." 
 
 " But why should we harm him, principessa ? " 
 they asked ; and, indeed, I felt inclined to echo their 
 question, seeing that she pointed at me. 
 
 " Because he has killed Giuseppe? " she answered 
 simply. 
 
 " Giuseppe ? He has slain Giuseppe ? " The sim- 
 ultaneous cry went up in a wail, and by impulse the 
 hand of each one moved to his knife. 
 
 " Your pardon, principessa — " began one black- 
 avised bandit, dropping the haft of his knife and 
 feeling for the gun at his back. 
 
 She waved him aside and turned to me. " I 
 should warn you, sir, that we are of one clan here, 
 
 288
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 though I may not tell you our name ; and against the 
 slayer of one it is vendetta with us all. But I spare 
 you until your father arrives." 
 
 " I thank you," answered I, feeling blue, but 
 fetching up my best bow. Here was a pleasant pros- 
 pect ! " I only beg to observe that I killed this man 
 — if I have killed him — in self-defence," I added. 
 
 " Do you wish me to repeat that as your plea ? " 
 she asked, half in scorn. 
 
 " I do not," said I with a sudden rush of anger. 
 " Moreover, I dare say that these savages of yours 
 would see no distinction." 
 
 " You are right," she replied carelessly, " they 
 would see no distinction." 
 
 " But excuse me, principessa," persisted the scowl- 
 ing man, " a feud is a feud, and if he has slain our 
 Giuse " 
 
 " Attend to me, sir," I broke in. " Your Giuseppe 
 came at me like a hog, and I gave him his deserts. 
 For the rest, if you move your hand another inch 
 towards that gun I will knock your brains out." I 
 clubbed my musket ready to strike. 
 
 " Gently, sir ! " interposed the girl. " This is 
 folly, as you must see." 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders. " You will allow me, 
 Princess. If it come to vendetta, you have slain my 
 friend." 
 
 289
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 She gave her back to me and faced the ring. " I 
 tell vou/' she said, " that Giuseppe's death rests 
 on the prisoner's word alone. Marc'antonio and 
 Stephanu have gone down and will bring us the truth 
 of it. Meanwhile I say that this one is our prisoner, 
 like as the others. Give him room and let him wait 
 by his friend. Does any one say ' nay ' to that? " 
 she demanded. 
 
 The scowling man, with a glance at his comrades' 
 faces, gave way. I could not have told why, but from 
 the start of the dispute I felt that this girl held 
 her bandits, or whatever they were, in imperfect 
 obedience. They obeyed her, yet with reserve. 
 When pressed to the point between submission and 
 mutiny, they yielded; but they yielded with a con- 
 sent which I could not reconcile with submission. 
 Even whilst answering deferentially they appeared to 
 be looking at one another and taking a cue. 
 
 For the time, however, she had prevailed with 
 them. They stood aside while Billy and I lifted the 
 litter and bore it to the shade of an overhanging rock. 
 One even fetched me a panful of water which he 
 had collected from a trickling spring on the face of 
 the cliffs hard by, and brought me linen, too, when 
 he saw me preparing to tear up my own shirt to bind 
 Nat's wound. 
 
 We could not trace the course of the bullet, and 
 
 290
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 judged it best to spare meddling with a hurt we 
 could not help. So, having bathed away the clotted 
 blood and bandaged him, we strewed a fresh bed of 
 fern and watched by him, moistening his lips from 
 time to time with water, for which he moaned. The 
 sun began to sink on the far side of the mountain, 
 and the shadow of the summit, falling into the deep 
 gulf at our feet, to creep across the green tree-tops 
 massed there. While it crept and I watched it, Billy 
 related in whispers how he had been sprung upon 
 and gagged, so swiftly that he had no chance to cry 
 alarm or to feel for the trigger of his musket. He 
 rubbed his hands delightedly when in return I told 
 the story of my lucky shot. In his ignorance of 
 Italian he had caught no inkling of the peril that 
 lucky shot had brought upon me, nor did I for the 
 moment choose to enlighten him. 
 
 The shadow of the mountain was stretching more 
 than half-way across the valley, and in the slanting 
 light the rosy tinge of the crags appeared to be melt- 
 ing and suffusing the snow-peaks beyond, when my 
 father w^alked into the camp unannounced. He car- 
 ried a gun and a folding camp-stool, and was fol- 
 lowed by Marc'antonio, who fluttered my white hand- 
 kerchief from the ramrod of his musket. 
 
 " Good afternoon, gentlemen ! " said he, lifting his 
 hat and looking about him. 
 
 291
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 I could see at a glance that his stature and bearing 
 impressed the Corsicans mightily. They drew back 
 for a moment, then pressed around him like children. 
 
 " Mbe ! E bellu, il Inglese," I heard one say to 
 his fellow. 
 
 After quelling the brief tumult against me, and 
 while I busied myself with l^at, the girl had disap- 
 peared — I could not tell whither. But now one of 
 the band ran up the slope calling loudly to summon 
 her. " O principessa, ajo, ajo ! Veni qui, ajo ! " 
 and, gazing after him, I saw her at the entrance of a 
 cave some fifty feet above us, erect, with either hand 
 parting and holding back the creepers that curtained 
 her bower. 
 
 She let the curtains fall-to behind her, and, step- 
 ping down the hillside, welcomed my father with the 
 gravest of curtsies. 
 
 " Salutation, O stranger ! " 
 
 " And to you, O lady, salutation ! " my father 
 made answer with a bow. " Though English," he 
 went on, slipping easily into the dialect she used with 
 her followers, " I am Corsican enough to forbear 
 from asking their names of gentlefolk in the mac- 
 chia ; but mine is John Constantino, and I am very 
 much at your service." 
 
 " My men call me the Princess Camilla." 
 
 " A good name," said my father, and seemed to 
 
 292
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 muse upon it for a moment while he eyed her pater- 
 nally. " A very good name, O Princess, and be- 
 loved of old hv Diana — 
 
 " Sternum telorum et virginitatis amorem 
 Intemerata 
 
 But I come at your bidding and must first of all 
 apologise for some little delay; the cause being that 
 your messenger found me busy patching up a bullet- 
 hole in one of your men." 
 
 " Giuseppe is not dead ? " 
 
 " He is not dead, and on the whole I incline to 
 think he is not going to die, though you will allow 
 me to say that the rogue deserved it. The other three 
 gentlemen-at-arms despatched by you are at this mo- 
 ment bringing him up the hill, very carefully, fol- 
 lowing my instructions. He will need care. In fact 
 it will be touch-and-go with him for many days to 
 come." 
 
 While he talked, my father, catching sight of me, 
 had stepped to Nat's couch. Nodding to me without 
 more ado to lift the patient and cut away his shirt, 
 he knelt, unrolled his case of instruments, and with 
 a " Courage, lad ! " bent an ear to the faint breath- 
 ing. In less than a minute, as it seemed, his hand, 
 feeling around the naked back, came to a pause a 
 little behind and under the right arm-pit. 
 
 293
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTINE 
 
 "Courage, lad!" he repeated. "A little pain, 
 and we'll have it, safe as a wasp in an apple." 
 
 The Corsieans under his orders had withdrawn 
 to a little distance and stood about us in a ring. 
 While he probed and Nat's poor body writhed 
 feebly in my arms, I lifted my eyes once with a 
 shudder, and met the Princess Camilla's. She was 
 watching, and without a tremor, her face grave as a 
 
 child's. 
 
 With a short grunt of triumph, my father caught 
 away his hand, dipped it swiftly into the pan of 
 water beside him, and held the bullet aloft between 
 thumb and forefinger. The Corsieans broke into 
 quick guttural cries, as men hailing a miracle. As 
 Nat's head fell back limp against my shoulder I saw 
 the Princess turn and walk away alone. 
 
 Her followers dispersed by degrees, but not (I 
 should say) until every man had explained to every 
 other his o\vn theory of the wound and the operation, 
 and how my father had come to find the bullet so 
 unerringly, each theorist tapping his own chest and 
 back, or his interlocutor's, sometimes a couple tap- 
 ping each other with vigour, neither listening, both 
 jabbering at full pitch of the voice with prodigious 
 elisions of consonants and equally prodigious drawl- 
 ings of the vowels. For us, the dressing of the 
 wound kept us busy, and we paid little attention even 
 
 294
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 when a fresh jahbering announced that the litter- 
 bearers had arrived with Giuseppe. 
 
 By and bv, liowever, my father rose from his 
 knees and, leaving me to fasten the last bandages, 
 strolled across the slope to see how his other patient 
 had borne the journey. Just at that moment I heard 
 again a voice calling to the Princess Camilla : " A jo, 
 ajo ! O principessa, veni qui ! " and simultaneously 
 the voice of Billy Priske uplifted in an incongruous 
 British oath. 
 
 My father halted with a gesture of annoyance, 
 checked himself, and, awaiting the Princess, pointed 
 towards an object on the turf — an object at which 
 Billy Priske, too, was pointing. 
 
 It appeared that while his comrades had been at- 
 tending on Giuseppe, the third Corsican (whom they 
 called Ste, or Stephanu) had filled up his time by 
 rifling our camp; and of all our possessions he had 
 chosen to select our half-dozen spare muskets and a 
 burst coffer, from which he now extracted and (for 
 his comrades' admiration) held aloft our chiefest 
 treasure — the Iron Crown of Corsica. 
 
 " Princess," said my father coldly, " your men 
 have broken faith. I came to you under no com- 
 pulsion, obeying your flag of truce. It was no 
 part of the bargain that our camp should be pil- 
 laged." 
 
 295
 
 Sm JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 For a while she did not seem to hear ; but stood at 
 gaze, her ejes round with wonder. 
 
 " Stephanu, bring it here," she commanded. 
 
 The man brought it. " O principessa," said he 
 with a wondering grin, " who are these that travel 
 with royal crowns ? If we were true folk of the 
 maccliia, now, we could hold them at a fine ransom." 
 
 She took the crown, examined it for a moment, 
 and, turning to my father, spoke to him swiftly in 
 French : 
 
 " How came you by this, O Englishman ? " 
 
 " That," answered my father stiffly, " I decline 
 to tell you. It has come to your hands. Princess, 
 through violation of your flag of truce, and in honour 
 you should restore it to me without question." 
 
 She waved a hand impatiently. " This is the 
 crown of King Theodore, O Englishman. See the 
 rim of mingled oak and laurel, made in imitation 
 of that hasty chaplet wherewith the Corsicans first 
 crowned him in the Convent of Alesani. Answer me, 
 and in French, for all your lives depend on it; yet 
 briefly, for the sound of that tongue angers my men. 
 For your life, then, how did you come by this ? " 
 
 " You must find some better argument, Princess," 
 said my father stifily. 
 
 " For your son's life then." 
 
 I saw my father lift his eyes and scan her beauti- 
 ful face. 296
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 " My son is not a coward, Princess ; the less so 
 that — " Here my father hesitated. 
 
 " Qnickly, quickly ! " she urged him. 
 
 He threw up his head. " Yes, quickly, Princess ; 
 and in no fear, nor upon any condition. You are 
 islanders ; therefore you are patriots. You are pa- 
 triots; therefore you hate the Genoese and love the 
 Queen Emilia, whose servant I am. As I was say- 
 ing, then, my son has the less excuse to be a coward 
 in that he hopes, one day, with the Queen Emilia's 
 Messing, to wear this crown bequeathed to him by 
 the late King Theodore." 
 
 " He f " The girl swamg upon me, scornfully in- 
 credulous. 
 
 " Even he, Princess. In proof I can show you 
 King Theodore's deed of gift, signed with his own 
 hand and attested." 
 
 For the first time, then, I saw her smile; but the 
 smile held no correspondence with the tone of slow, 
 quiet contempt in which she next spoke. 
 
 " You are trustful, O sciu Johann Constantine. I 
 have heard that all Englishmen tell the truth, and 
 expect it, and are otherwise mad." 
 
 " I trust to nothing, Princess, until I have the 
 Queen Emilia's word. That I would trust to my 
 life's end." 
 
 She nodded darkly. " You shall go to her — if you 
 can find her." on-
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " Tell me where to seek her." 
 
 " She lies at jSTonza in Capo Corse; or peradven- 
 ture the Genoese, who hold her prisoner, have by this 
 time carried her across to the Continent." 
 
 " Though she were in Genoa itself, I would de- 
 liver her or die." 
 
 " You will probably die, O Englishman, before 
 you receive her answer; and that will be a pity — yes, 
 a great pity. But you are free to go, you and your 
 company — all but your son here, this King of Cor- 
 sica that is to be, whom I keep as hostage, with his 
 crown. Eh? Is this not a good bargain I offer 
 you?" 
 
 " Be it good or bad. Princess," my father an- 
 swered, " to make a bargain takes two." 
 
 " That is true," said I, stepping forward with a 
 laugh, and thrusting myself between the Corsicans, 
 who had begun to press around with decided menace 
 in their looks. " And therefore the Princess will 
 accept me as the other party to the bargain, and as 
 her hostage." 
 
 Again at the sound of my laugh she shrank a little; 
 but presently frowned. 
 
 " Have you considered, cavalier," she asked 
 coldly, "that Giuseppe is not certain of recovery?" 
 
 " Still less certain is my friend," answered I, and 
 with a shrug of the shoulders walked away to Nat's 
 
 298
 
 HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS 
 
 sick-couch. There, twenty minutes later, my father 
 took leave of me, after giving some last instructions 
 for the care of the invalid. In one hand he carried 
 his musket, in the other his camp-stool. 
 
 " Say the word even now, lad," he offered, " and 
 we will abide till he recovers." 
 
 But I shook my head. 
 
 Billy Priske carried an enormous wine-skin slung 
 across his shoulders; Mr. Eett a sack of provender. 
 Mr. Badcock had begged or borrowed or purchased 
 an enormous gridiron. 
 
 " But what is that for? " I asked him as we shook 
 hands. 
 
 " For cooking the wild goose," he answered sol- 
 emnly, " which in these parts (as I am given to mi- 
 derstand) is an animal they call the mufffone. He 
 partakes in some degree of the nature of a sheep. 
 He will find me his match, sir." 
 
 One by one, a little before the sun sank, they bade 
 me farewell and passed — free men — down the path 
 that dipped into the pine forest. On the edge of the 
 dip each man turned and waved a hand to me. The 
 Princess, with Marc'antonio beside her, stood and 
 watched them as they passed out of sight. 
 
 299
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE FOREST HUT 
 
 Then hooly, hooly rase she up, 
 
 And hooly she came nigh him, 
 And when she drew the curtain by — 
 
 "Young man, I think you're dyin'." 
 
 — Barbara Allan's Cruelty. 
 
 Evening fell, filling the great hollow of a sudden 
 with purple shadows. As the stars came out the Cor- 
 sicans on the slope to my left lit a fire of brushwood 
 and busied themselves around it cooking their sup- 
 per. They were no ordinary bandits, then; or at 
 least had no fear to betray their whereabouts, since 
 on the landward side on so clear a night the glow 
 would be visible for many miles. 
 
 I watched them at their preparations. Their dark 
 figures moved between me and the flames as they 
 set up a tall tripod of pine poles and hung their caul- 
 dron from the centre of it, upon a brandice. The 
 Princess had withdrawn to her cave and did not re- 
 appear until Stephanu, who seemed to be head-cook, 
 announced that supper was ready, whereupon she 
 came and took her seat with the rest in a ring around 
 
 300
 
 THE FOEEST HUT 
 
 the fire. Marc'antonio brought me my share of 
 seethed kid's flesh with a capful of chestnuts roasted 
 in the embers; a flask of wine too, and a small pail 
 of goat's milk with a pannikin, for Nat. The fare 
 might not be palatable, ^ut plainly they did not in- 
 tend us to starve. 
 
 Marc'antonio made no answer when I thanked 
 him, but returned to his seat in the ring, where from 
 the beginning of the meal — as at a signal — his com- 
 panions had engaged in a furious and general dis- 
 pute. So at least it sounded, and so shrill at times 
 were their contending voices, and so fierce their 
 gesticulations, that for some minutes I fully ex- 
 pected to see them turn to other business the knives 
 with which they attacked their meal. 
 
 The Princess sat listening, speaking very seldom. 
 Once only in a general hush the firelight showed me 
 that her lips were moving, and I caught the low tone 
 of her voice, but not the words. Not once did she 
 look in my direction, and yet I guessed that she was 
 speaking of me: for the words " ostagiu," " Inglese " 
 and the name " Giuseppe " or " Giuse " — of the man 
 I had shot — had recurred over and over in their jab- 
 ber, and recurred when she ceased and it broke forth 
 again. 
 
 It had lasted maybe for half an hour, when at a 
 signal from Marc'antonio (whom I took to be the 
 
 301
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTINE 
 
 Princess's lieutenant or spokesman in these matters, 
 and to whom she turned oftener than to any of the 
 others, except perhaps Stephanu) two .or three picked 
 up their muskets, looked to their priming, and 
 walked off into the darkness. By and by came in 
 the sentinels they had relieved, and these in turn 
 were helped by Stephanu to supper from the caul- 
 dron. I watched, half-expecting the dispute to start 
 afresh, but the others appeared to have taken their 
 fill of it with their food; and soon, each man draw- 
 ing his blanket over his head, lay back and stretched 
 themselves to sleep. The new-comers, having satis- 
 fied their hunger, did likewise. Stephanu gave the 
 great pot a stir, unhitched it from the brandice, and 
 bore it away, leaving the Princess and Marc'antonio 
 the only two wakeful ones beside the fire. 
 
 They sat so long without speaking, the Princess 
 with knees drawn up, hands clasping them, and eyes 
 bent on the embers into which (for the Corsican 
 nights are chilly) Marc'antonio now and again cast a 
 fresh brand — that in time my own eyes began to 
 grow heavy. They were smarting, too, from the 
 smoke of the burnt wood. I^Tat had fallen into a 
 troubled sleep, in which now and again he moaned: 
 and always at the sound I roused myself to ease his 
 posture or give him to drink from the pannikin; but, 
 for the rest, I dozed, and must have dozed for hours. 
 
 302
 
 THE FOREST IIUT 
 
 I started up wide awake at the sound of a foot- 
 step beside me, and sat erect, blinking against the 
 rays of a lantern held close to my eyes. The Prin- 
 cess held it, and at Nat's head and feet stood 
 Mare'antonio and Stephanu, in the act of lifting his 
 litter. She motioned that I should stand up and 
 follow. Marc'antonio and Stephanu fell into file be- 
 hind us. Each carried a gun in a sling. 
 
 " I will hold the light where the path is bad," she 
 said quietly; "but step carefully and keep a watch 
 upon your feet. In an hour's time we shall have 
 plenty of light." 
 
 I looked and saw the sickle of the waning moon 
 suspended over the gulf. It shot but the feeblest 
 glimmer along the edges of the granite pinnacles, 
 none upon the black masses of the pine-tops. But 
 around it the darkness held a faint violet glow, and 
 I knew that day must be climbing close on its heels. 
 
 There was no promise of day, however, along the 
 track into which we plunged — the track by which my 
 comrades had descended to cross the valley. It dived 
 down the mountain side through a tunnel of pines, 
 and in places the wnnter streams, now dry, had chan- 
 nelled it and broken it up with land-slides. 
 
 " You do not ask where I am leading you," she 
 said, holding her lantern for me at one of these awk- 
 ward places. 
 
 303
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " I am your hostage, Princess," I answered, Avith- 
 out looking at her, mj eyes being busy just then in 
 discovering good foothold. " You must do with me 
 what you will." 
 
 " If I could ! Ah, if I could ! " 
 
 She said it hard and low, with clenched teeth, al- 
 most hissing the words. I stared at her, amazed. No 
 sign of anger had she shown until this moment. 
 What cause indeed had she to be angered? In what 
 way had my words offended? Yet angry she was, 
 trembling with such a gust of wrath that the lan- 
 tern shook in her hand. 
 
 Before I could master my surprise, she had mas- 
 tered herself: and, turning, resumed her way. For 
 the next twenty minutes we descended in silence, 
 while the dawn, breaking above the roofed pines, fil- 
 tered down to us and filled the spaces between their 
 trunks with a brownish haze. By and by, when the 
 slope grew easier and flattened itself out to form the 
 bottom of the basin, these pines gave place to a 
 chestnut wood and the carpet of slippery needles to 
 a tangled undergrowth taller than a very tall man: 
 and here, in a clearing beside the track, we came on 
 a small hut with a ruinous palisade beside it, fencing 
 off a pen or courtyard of good size — some forty feet 
 square, maybe. 
 
 The Princess halted, and I halted a few paces from 
 
 304
 
 THE FOREST HUT 
 
 her, studying the hut. It was built of pine-logs sawn 
 lengthwise in half and set together with their un- 
 trimmed bark turned outwards : but the most of their 
 bark had peeled away with age. It had two square 
 holes for windows, and a doorway, but no door. Its 
 shingle roof had buckled this way and that with the 
 rains, and had taken on a tinge of grey which the 
 dawn touched to softest silver. Lines of more bril- 
 liant silver criss-crossed it, and these were the tracks 
 of snails. 
 
 " O King of Corsica," she turned to me, " behold 
 your palace! " 
 
 Her eyes were watching me, but in what expecta- 
 tion I could not tell. I stepped carelessly to the 
 doorway and took a glance around the interior. 
 
 " It might be worse; and I thank you. Princess." 
 
 " Ajo, Marc'antonio! Since the stranger approves 
 of it so far, go carry his friend within." 
 
 "Your pardon. Princess," I interposed; "the 
 place is something too dirty to house a sick man, and 
 until it be cleaned my friend will do better in the 
 fresh air." 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " Your subjects, O 
 King, have left it in this mess, and they will help 
 you very little to improve it." 
 
 I walked over to the palisade and looked across it 
 upon an unsightly area foul with dried dung and the 
 
 305
 
 SIR JOim CO:NSTANTmE 
 
 trampling of pigs. For weeks, if not months, it must 
 have lain uninhabited, but it smelt potently even yet. 
 
 " My subjects, Princess? " 
 
 " With Giuse lying sick, the hogs roam without a 
 keeper: and my people have chosen you in his room." 
 She paused, and I felt, rather than saw, that both 
 the men were eyeing me intently. I guessed then 
 that she was putting on me a meditated insult; to 
 the Corsican mind, doubtless, a deep one. 
 
 " So I am to keep your hogs. Princess? " said I 
 with a deliberate air. " Well, I am your hostage." 
 
 " I am breaking no faith, Englishman." 
 
 " As to that, please observe that I am not accus- 
 ing you. I but note that, having the power, you 
 use it. But two things puzzle me : of which the first 
 is, where shall I find my charge? " 
 
 " Marc'antonio shall fetch them down to you from 
 the other side of the mountain." 
 
 " And next, how shall I learn to tend them? " I 
 asked, still keeping my matter-of-fact tone, 
 
 " They will give you no trouble. You have but 
 to pen them at night and number them, and again 
 at daybreak turn them loose. They know this forest 
 and prefer it to the other side: you will not find 
 that they wander. At night you have only to blow 
 a horn which Marc'antonio will bring you, and the 
 sound of it will fetch them home." 
 
 306
 
 THE FOREST HUT 
 
 " A light job," said Steplianu with a grin, " when 
 a man can bring his stomach to it." 
 
 " Not so light as you suppose, my friend," I an- 
 swered. " The sty, here, will need some cleansing. 
 Since if these are to be my subjects, I must do my 
 best for them. It may not amount to much, but at 
 least my hogs shall keep themselves cleaner than 
 some Corsicans, even than some Corsican cooks." 
 
 " Stephanu," said Marc'antonio gravely, " the 
 Englishman meant that for you : and I tell you what 
 I have told you before, that yours are no fitly kept 
 hands for a cook. I have travelled abroad and seen 
 the ways of other nations." 
 
 " The sty will need mending too. Princess," said 
 I: " but before nightfall I will try to have it ready." 
 
 " You will find tools in the hut," she answered 
 with a glance at Marc'antonio, who nodded. " For 
 food, you shall be kept supi)lied. Stephanu has 
 brought, in his sack yonder, flesh, cheese, and wine 
 sufiicient for three days, with milk for your friend: 
 and day by day fresh milk shall be sent down to you." 
 
 Her words were commonplace, yet her cheeks 
 wore an angry flush beneath their sun-burn; and I 
 knew why. Her insult had miscarried. In accept- 
 ing this humiliation I had somehow mastered her: 
 even the tone she used, level and matter-of-fact, she 
 used perforce, in place of the high scorn with which 
 
 307
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 she had started to sentence me. My spirits rose. If 
 I could not understand this girl, neither could she un- 
 derstand me. She only felt defeat, and it puzzled 
 and angered her. 
 
 " You have no complaint to make? " she asked, 
 hesitating in spite of herself as she turned to go. 
 
 I laughed, having discovered that my laugh per- 
 plexed her. " None whatever, Princess. Am I not 
 your hostage? " 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 When they were gone I laughed again, with a 
 glance at Nat, who lay with closed eyes and white, 
 still face where Marc'antonio and Stephanu had 
 made a couch of fern and some heather for him un- 
 der the chestnut boughs. The sight of the heather 
 gave me an idea, and I walked back to where, at 
 the end of the chestnut wood, a noble clump of it 
 grew, under a scarp of rock where the pines broke 
 off. With my knife I cut an armful of it and re- 
 turned to the hut, pausing on my way to gather some 
 strings of a creeper which looked to be a clematis 
 and sufficiently tough for my purpose. My next step 
 was to choose and cut a tolerably straight staff of 
 ilex, about five feet in length and close upon two 
 inches thick. AVhile I trimmed it a blackbird began 
 to sing in the undergrowth behind the hut, and, 
 listening, my ears seemed to catch in the pauses of 
 
 308
 
 THE FOREST HUT 
 
 his song a sound of running water, less loud but 
 nearer and more distinct than the muiTnur of the 
 many rock-streams that tinkled into the valley. I 
 dropped my work for a while and, passing to the back 
 of the hut, found and followed through the bushes a 
 foot-track — overgrown and tangled with briers, but 
 still a track — which led me to the water. It ran, 
 with a murmur almost subterranean, beneath bushes 
 so closely overarched that my feet were on the brink 
 before I guessed, and I came close upon taking a 
 bath at unawares. Xow this stream, so handv within 
 reach, w^as just what I wanted, and among the bushes 
 by the verge grew a plant — much like our English 
 osier, but dwarf er — extremely pliant and tougher 
 than the tendrils of the clematis; so that, having 
 stripped it of half a dozen twigs, I went back to work 
 more blithely than ever. 
 
 But for fear of disturbing Xat I could have 
 whistled. It may even be that, intent on my task, 
 I did unwittingly whistle a few bars of a tune: or 
 perhaps the blackbird woke him. At any rate, after 
 half an hour's labour I looked up from my handi- 
 work and met his eyes, open, intent on me and with 
 a question in them. 
 
 " What am I doing, eh? I am making a broom, 
 lad." I held it up for him to admire. 
 Where is she? " he asked feebly. 
 
 309 
 
 ((
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " She ? " I set down my broom, fetched him a 
 pannikinful of milk, and knelt beside him while he 
 drank it. " If you mean the Princess Camilla, she 
 has gone back to her mountain, leaving us in peace." 
 
 "Camilla?" he murmured the word. 
 
 " And a very suitable name, it seems to me. There 
 was, if you remember, a young lady in the ^Eneid of 
 pretty much the same disposition." 
 
 " Camilla," he repeated, and again but a little 
 above his breath. " Your father ... he is helping 
 her?" 
 
 " Helping her? " I echoed. " My dear lad, if ever 
 a young woman could take care of herself it is the 
 Princess. . . . And as for my father helping her, 
 she has packed him off northwards across the moun- 
 tains with a flea in his ear. And, talking of fleas — " 
 I went on with a glance at the hut. 
 
 He brought me to a full stop with a sudden grip 
 on my arm, astonishingly strong for a wounded man. 
 "Nay, lad — nay!" I coaxed him, but slipped a 
 hand under him as he insisted and sat upright. 
 
 " She needs help, I tell you," he gasped. " Needs 
 help ... it was for help I ran when — when " 
 
 "But what dreaming is this? My dear fellow, 
 she makes prisoners of us, shoots you down when 
 you try to escape, treats me worse than a dog, ban- 
 ishes us to this hut which — not to put too fine a 
 
 310
 
 THE FOREST HUT 
 
 point on it — is a pigs' sty and particularly filthy at 
 that. I don't blame her, though some little explana- 
 tion might not come amiss: but if she has any need 
 of help, you must admit that she dissembles it pretty 
 thoroughly." 
 
 Nat would not listen. " You did not see? You did 
 not see? — x\nd yet you know her language and have 
 talked with her! Whereas I — O blind! " he broke 
 out passionately, " blind that you could not see ! " 
 
 A fit of coughing seized and shook him, and as I 
 eased him back upon his fern pillow, blood came 
 away upon the handkerchief I held to his lips. 
 
 " Damn her! " I swore viciously. " Let her need 
 help if she will, and let her ask me for it! She has 
 tried her best to kill you; and, what's more, she'll 
 succeed if you don't lie still as I order. Help? Oh 
 yes, I'll help her — when I have helped you\ " 
 
 He moved his head feebly, as if to shake it: but 
 lay quiet, panting, with closed eyes: and so, the ef- 
 fusion of blood having ceased, I left him and fell 
 to work like a negro slave. 
 
 By the angle of the hut there stood a pigs' trough 
 of granite, roughly hewn and hollowed, and among 
 the tools within I found a leaky wooden bucket 
 which, by daubing it with mud from the brink of 
 the stream, I contrived to make passably watertight. 
 A score of times I must have travelled to and fro 
 
 311
 
 SIR JOHi^ CO^^STANTIXE 
 
 between the hut and the stream before I had the 
 cistern filled. Then I fell-to upon the foul walls 
 within, slushing and brooming them. Bats dropped 
 from the roof and flew blundering against me: I 
 drove them forth from the window. The mud floor 
 became a quag: I seized a spade and shovelled it 
 clean, mud and slime and worse filth together. And 
 still as I toiled a song kept liddening (as we say in 
 Cornwall) through mj head: a song with two re- 
 frains, whereof the first was the old nursery jingle 
 — " Mud won't daub sieve, sieve won't hold water, 
 water won't wet stone, stone won't edge axe, axe 
 won't cut rod, rod won't make a gad, a gad to hang 
 Manachar, who has eaten my raspberries every one." 
 (So ran the rigmarole with which Mrs. Nance had 
 beguiled my infancy.) The second refrain echoed 
 poor Nat's cry, " She needs help, needs help, and 
 you could not see ! Blind, blind, that you could not 
 see!" 
 
 How should she need help? Little cared I though 
 she needed it, and sorely! But how had the notion 
 taken hold of Nat? 
 
 Weakness? Delirium? No: he had been running 
 to get help for her when they shot him down. I 
 had his word for that. . . . But she had pursued 
 with the others. For aught I knew, she herself had 
 fired the shot. 
 
 312
 
 THE FOREST HUT 
 
 If she needed help, why was she treating us de- 
 spitefiilly — putting this insult upon me, for example? 
 Why had she used those words of hate? They had 
 been passionate words, too; spoken from the heart 
 in an instant of surprise. Then, again, to suppose 
 her a friend of the Genoese was impossible. But 
 why, if not a friend of the Genoese, was she a foe 
 of their foes? Why had she taken to the macchia 
 with these men? Why were they keeping watch on 
 the coast while careless that their watchfire showed 
 inland for leagues ? Why, if she were a patriot, had 
 the sight of King Theodore's crown awakened such 
 scorn and yet rage against me, its bearer? Why 
 again, at the mere word that my father sought the 
 Queen Emilia, had she let him pass on, while re- 
 doubling her despite against me? 
 
 On top of these puzzles Nat must needs propound 
 another, that this girl stood in need of help! 
 
 Help? From whom? 
 
 As my mind ran over these questions, still at every 
 pause the old rigmarole kept dinning — " Mud won't 
 daub sieve, sieve won't hold water, water won't wet 
 stone . . ." on and on without ceasing, and still I 
 toiled and sweated. 
 
 By noon the hut was clean, at any rate tolerably 
 clean; but its soaked floor would certainly take many 
 hours in drying, and Nat must spend another night 
 
 313
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 under the open skv. I left the hut, snatched a meal 
 of bread and cheese, and, after a pull at the wine- 
 flask, turned my attention to -the sty. To cleanse it 
 before nightfall was out of the question. I examined 
 it and saw three good days' labour ahead of me. But 
 the palisading could be repaired and made secure 
 after a fashion, and I started upon it at once, sharp- 
 ening the rotten posts with my axe, driving, fixing, 
 nailing, binding them firmly with osier-twists, of 
 which I had fetched a fresh supply from the stream- 
 side. I had rolled my jacket into a pillow for Nat, 
 that he might lie easily and watch me. 
 
 The sun was sinking beyond the mountain, stain- 
 ing with deep rose the pinnacles of granite that 
 soared eastward above the pines, when a horn 
 sounded on the slope and Marc'antonio came down 
 the track driving the hogs before him. He in- 
 structed me good-naturedly enough in the art of pen- 
 ning the brutes, breaking off from time to time to 
 compliment me on my labours, the sum of which 
 appeared to affect him with a degree of wonder not 
 far short of awe. 
 
 " But why are you doing it? Perche? perche? " he 
 broke off once or twice to ask, eyeing me askance 
 with a look rather fearful than unfriendly. 
 
 " The Princess laid this task upon me," I answered 
 cheerfully, indeed with elation, feeling that so long 
 
 314:
 
 THE FOREST liLT 
 
 as I could keep my tyrants puzzled I still kept, some- 
 how, the upper hand. 
 
 " I have travelled, in my time," said Marc'antonio 
 with a touch of vainglorious pride. " I have made 
 the acquaintance of many continentals, even with 
 some that were extremely rich. But I never crossed 
 over to England." 
 
 " You would have found it full of eccentrics," 
 said I. 
 
 " I dare say," said he. " Eor myself, I said to 
 myself when I took ship, ' Marc'antonio,' said I, 
 ' you must make it a rule to be surprised at nothing.' 
 But do Englishmen clean hogs' styes for pleasure ? " 
 
 "And the Princess? She has also travelled?" I 
 asked, meeting his question with another. 
 
 Eor the moment my question appeared to disturb 
 him. Recovering himself, he answered gravely, 
 " She has travelled, but not very far. You must not 
 do her an injustice. . . . AVe form our opinions on 
 what we see." 
 
 " It is admittedly the best way," I assented with 
 equal gravity. 
 
 At the shut of night he left me and went his way 
 up the mountain path, and an hour later, having at- 
 tended to Xat's wants, tired as in all my life I had 
 never been, I stretched myself on the turf and slept 
 under the stars. 
 
 315
 
 SIR joh:n" coxstantixe 
 
 The grunting of the hogs awakened me a little 
 before dawn. I went to the pen, and as soon as I 
 opened the hatch they rushed out in a crowd, all but 
 upsetting me as they jostled against my legs. Then, 
 after listening for a wdiile after they had vanished 
 into the undergrowth and darkness, I crept back to 
 my couch and slept. 
 
 That day, though the sun was rising before I 
 awoke again and broke fast, I caught up with it be- 
 fore noon : that is to say, with the work I had prom- 
 ised myself to accomplish. Before sunset I had 
 scraped over and cleaned the entire area of the sty. 
 Also I had fetched fern in handfuls and strewn the 
 floor of the hut, which was now dry and clean to the 
 smell. 
 
 In the evening I blew my horn for the hogs, and 
 they returned to their pen obediently as the Princess 
 had promised. I had scarcely finished numbering 
 them when Marc'antonio came down the track, this 
 time haling a recalcitrant she-goat by a halter. 
 
 He tethered the goat and instructed me how to 
 milk her. 
 
 The next evening he brought, at my request, a 
 saw. I had cleaned out the sty thoroughly, and 
 tumed-to at once to enlarge the window-openings to 
 admit more light and air into the hut. 
 
 Still, as I worked, my spirits rose. Xat was bet- 
 
 316
 
 THE FOREST IIUT 
 
 tering fast. In a few more days, I promised myself, 
 he would be out of danger. To be sure he shook 
 his head when I spoke of this hope, and in the in- 
 tervals of sleep — of sleep in which I rejoiced as the 
 sweet restorer — lay watching me, with a trouble in 
 his eyes. 
 
 He no longer disobeyed my orders, but lay still 
 and watched. My last rag of shirt was gone now, 
 torn up for bandages. Marc'antonio had promised to 
 bring fresh linen to-morrow. By night I slept with 
 my jacket about me. By day I worked naked to the 
 waist, yet always with a growing cheerfulness. 
 
 It was on the fourth afternoon, and while yet the 
 sun stood a good way above the pines, that the Prin- 
 cess Camilla deigned to re"\asit us. I had carried Nat 
 forth into the glade before the hut, where the sun 
 might fall on him temperately, after a torrid day — 
 torrid, that is to say, on the heights, but in our 
 hollow, pight about with the trees, the air had clung 
 heavily. 
 
 Marc'antonio, an hour earlier than usual, came 
 down the track with a bundle of linen under his left 
 arm. I did not see that anv one followed him until 
 ISTat pulled himself up, clutching at my elbow. 
 
 "Princess! Princess!" he cried, and his voice 
 rang shrill towards her under the boughs. " Help 
 
 her . . . T cannot " 
 
 317
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 His voice choked on that last word as she came 
 forward and stood regarding him carelessly, coldly, 
 while I wiped the blood and then the bloody froth 
 from his lips. 
 
 " Your friend looks to be in an ill case," she said. 
 
 " You have killed him," said I, and looked up at 
 her stonily as Nat's head fell back, with a weight I 
 could not mistake, on my arms. 
 
 318
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE FIEST CHALLENGE 
 
 The remedye agayns Ire is a vertu that men clepen Mansuetude, 
 that is Debonairetee; and eek another vertu, that men callen 
 Pacience or Suffrance. . . . This vertu disconfiteth thyn enemy. 
 And therefore seith the wyse man, "If thou wolt venquisse thyn 
 enemy, lerne to suffre." — Chaucer, Parson's Tale. 
 
 " You have killed him." I lowered ISTat's head, 
 stood up and accused her fiercely. 
 
 She confronted me, contemptuous yet pale. Even 
 in my wrath I could see that her pallor had nothing 
 to do with fear. 
 
 " Say that I have, what then ? " She very delib- 
 erately unhitched the gun from her bandolier, and, 
 after examining the lock, laid it on the turf midway 
 between us. " As my hostage you may claim ven- 
 detta; take your shot then, and afterwards Marc'an- 
 tonio shall take his." 
 
 " No, no. Englishman ! " Marc'antonio ran be- 
 tween us while yet I stared at her without compre- 
 hending, and there was anguish in his cry. " The 
 Princess lies to you. It was I that fired the shot — 
 I that killed your friend! " 
 
 319
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 The girl shrugged her shoulders indifferently. 
 " Ah, well then, Mare'antonio, since you will 
 have it so, give me my gun again and hand yours 
 to the cavalier. Do as I tell you, please," she com- 
 manded, as the man turned to her with a dropping 
 jaw. 
 
 " Princess, I implore you " 
 
 " You are a coward, Mare'antonio." 
 
 " Have it so," he answered sullenly. " It is God's 
 truth, at all events, that I am afraid." 
 
 "Forme? But I have this." She tapped the bar- 
 rel of her gun as she took it from him. " And after- 
 wards — if that is in your mind — afterwards I shall 
 still have Stephanu." 
 
 She said it lightly, but it brought all the blood 
 back to his brow and cheek with a rush. Not for 
 many days did I learn the full meaning of the look 
 he turned on her, but for dumb reproach I never 
 saw the like of it on man's face. 
 
 Her foot tapped the ground. " Give him the 
 gun," she commanded, and Mare'antonio thrust it 
 into my hands. " Now turn your back and walk to 
 that first tree yonder, very slowly, pace by pace, as 
 you hear me count." 
 
 Her face was set like a flint, her tone relentless. 
 Mare'antonio half raised his two fists, clenching them 
 for a moment, but dropped them by his side, turned 
 
 320
 
 THE FIRST CHALLENGE 
 
 his back, and began to walk obediently towards the 
 tree. 
 
 " One — two — three — four — five," she counted, 
 and paused. " Englishman, this fellow has killed 
 your friend, and you claim yourself worthy to be 
 King of Corsica. Prove it." 
 
 " Excuse me, Princess," said I, " but before that 
 I have some other things to prove, of which some 
 are easy and others may be hard and tedious." 
 
 " Seven — eight — nine." With no answer, but a 
 curl of the lip, she resumed her counting. 
 
 " Marc'antonio ! " I called — he had almost reached 
 the tree — " Come here! " 
 
 He faced about, his eyes starting, his cheeks 
 blanched. As he drew nearer I saw that his fore- 
 head shone with sweat. 
 
 " I have a word for you," I said slowly. " In the 
 first place, an Englishman does not shoot his game 
 sitting; it is against the rules. Secondly, he is 
 by no means necessarily a fool, but, if it came 
 to shooting against two, he might have sense 
 enough to get his first shot upon the one who 
 held the musket — a point which your mistress over- 
 looked perhaps." I bowed to her gravely. " And 
 thirdly," I went on, hardening my voice, " I have 
 to tell you, Ser ]\rarc'antonio, that this friend of 
 mine, whom you have killed, was not trying to 
 
 3i?l
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 escape you, but running to seek help for the 
 Princess." 
 
 Marc'antonio checked an exclamation. He glanced 
 at the girl, and she at him suspiciously, with a deep- 
 ening frown. 
 
 " Help? " she echoed, turning the frown upon me. 
 " What help, sir, should I need? " 
 
 It was my turn now to shrug the shoulders. 
 " Nay," I answered, " I tell you but what he told 
 me. He divined, or at least he was persuaded, that 
 you stood in need of help." 
 
 She threw a puzzled, questioning look at the poor 
 corpse, but lifted her eyes to find mine fixed upon 
 them, and shrank a little as I stepped close. Her 
 two hands went behind her, swiftly. I may have 
 made a motion to grip her by the wrists; I cannot 
 tell. My next words surprised myself, and the tone 
 of my voice speaking and the passion in it. 
 
 " You have killed my friend," said I, " who de- 
 sired only your good. You have chosen to humiliate 
 me, who willed you no harm. And now you say 
 ' it shall be vendetta.' Very well, it shall be ven- 
 detta, but as I choose it. Keep your foolish 
 weapons; I can do without them. Heap what insults 
 you will upon me; I am a man and will bear them. 
 But you are a woman, and therefore to be mastered. 
 For my friend's sake I choose to hate you and to be 
 
 322
 
 THE FIRST CHALLENGE 
 
 patient. For my friend's sake, who discovered your 
 need, I too will discover it and help it; and again, 
 not as you will, but as I determine. For my friend's 
 sake, mistress, and if I choose, I will even love you 
 and you shall come to my hand. Bethink you now 
 what pains you can put on me; but at the last you 
 shall come and place your neck under my foot, 
 humbly, not choosing to be loved or hated, only 
 beseeching your master! " 
 
 I broke off, half in wonder at my own words and 
 the flame in my blood, half in dismay to see her, 
 who at first had fronted me bravely, wince and put 
 up both hands to her face, yet not so as to cover 
 a tide of shame flushing her from throat to brow. 
 
 " Give me leave to shoot him, Princess," said 
 Marc'antonio. But she shook her head. " He has 
 been talking with some one. . . . With Stephanu? " 
 His gaze questioned me gloomily. " No, I will do 
 the dog justice; Stephanu would not talk." 
 
 " Lead her away," said I, " and leave me now to 
 mourn my friend." 
 
 He touched her by the arm, at the same time 
 promising me with a look that he would return for 
 an explanation. The Princess shivered, but, as he 
 stood aside to let her pass, recollected herself and 
 went before him up the path beneath the pines. 
 
 I stepped to where Nat lay and bent over him. I 
 
 323
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 had never till now been alone with death, and it 
 should have found me terribly alone. ... I closed 
 his eyes. . . . And this had been my friend, my 
 schoolfellow, cleverer than I and infinitely more 
 thoughtful, lacking no grace but good fortune, and 
 lacking that only by strength of a spirit too gal- 
 lant for its fate. In all our friendship it was I 
 that had taken, he that had given; in the strange 
 path we had entered and travelled thus far together, 
 it was he that had supplied the courage, the loyalty, 
 the blithe confidence that life held a prize to be won 
 with noble weapons; he who had set his face towards 
 the heights and pinned his faith to the stars; he, the 
 victim of a senseless bullet; he, stretched here as he 
 had fallen, all thoughts, all activities quenched, gone 
 out into that night of which the darkness gathering 
 in this forsaken glade was but a phantom, to be 
 chased away by to-morrow's sun. To-morrow . . . 
 to-morrow I should go on living and begin forget- 
 ting him. To-morrow? God forgive me for an in- 
 grate, I had begun already. . . . Even as I bent 
 over him, my uppermost thought had not been of my 
 friend. I had made, in the moment almost of his 
 death and across his body, my first acquaintance 
 with passion. My blood tingled yet with the strange 
 fire; my mind ran in a tumult of high resolves of 
 which I understood neither the end nor the present 
 
 32i
 
 THE FIRST CHALLENGE 
 
 meaning, but only that the world had on a sudden 
 become my battlefield, that the fight was mine, and 
 at all cost the victory must be mine. It was, if I 
 may say it without blasphemy, as if my friend's blood 
 had baptised me into his faith; and I saw life and 
 death with new eyes. 
 
 Yet, for the moment, in finding passion I had also 
 found self; and shame of this self dragged down my 
 elation. I had sprung to my feet in wild rage against 
 Nat's murder; I had spoken words — fierce, unpre- 
 meditated words — which, beginning in a boyish de- 
 fiance, had ended on a note which, though my own 
 lips uttered it, I heard as from a trumpet sound- 
 ing close and yet calling afar. In a minute or so 
 it had happened, and behold! I that, sitting beside 
 Nat, should have been terribly alone, was not alone, 
 for my new-found self sat between us, intruding on 
 my sorrow. 
 
 I declare now with shame, as it abased me then, 
 that for hours, while the darkness fell and the stars 
 began their march over the tree-tops, the ghostly 
 intruder kept watch with me as a bodily presence 
 mocking us both, benumbing my efforts to sorrow. 
 . . . Nor did it fade until calm came to me, recalled 
 by the murmur of unseen waters. Listening to them, 
 I let my thoughts travel up to the ridges and forth 
 into that unconfined world of which Nat's spirit 
 
 325
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 had been made free. ... I went to the hut for a 
 pail, groped my way to the stream, and fetched water 
 to prepare his body for burial. When I returned 
 the hateful presence had vanished. My eyes went 
 up to a star — love's planet — poised over the dark 
 boughs. Thither and beyond it Nat had travelled. 
 Through those windows he would henceforth look 
 back and down on me; never again through the eyes 
 I had loved as a friend and lived to close. I could 
 weep now, and I wept; not passionately, not self- 
 ishly, but in grief that seemed to rise about me like 
 a tide and bear me and all fate of man together upon 
 its deep, strong flood. . . . 
 
 At daybreak Marc'antonio and Stephanu came 
 down the pass and found me digging the grave. I 
 thought at first that they intended me some harm, 
 for their faces were ill-humoured enough in all con- 
 science; but they carried each a spade, and, after 
 growling a salutation, set down their guns and struck 
 in to help me with my work. 
 
 We had been digging, maybe, for twenty minutes, 
 and in silence, when my ear caught the sound of 
 furious grunting from the sty, where I had penned 
 the hogs overnight, a little before sundown. Nat 
 had watched me as I numbered them, and it seemed 
 now so long ago that I glanced up with a start al- 
 most guilty, as though in my grief I had neglected 
 
 326
 
 THE FIRST CHALLENGE 
 
 the poor brutes for days. In fact I had kept them 
 in prison for a short hour beyond their usual time, 
 and some one even now was liberating them. 
 
 It was the Princess, of whose presence I had not 
 been aware. She stood by the gate of the pen, her 
 head and shoulders in sunlight, while the hogs raced 
 in shadow past her feet. 
 
 Marc'antonio glanced at her across his shoulder 
 and growled angrily. 
 
 " Your pardon, Princess," said I slowly, as she 
 closed the gate after the last of the hogs and came 
 forward. " I have been remiss, but I need no help 
 either for this or for any of my work." 
 
 She halted a few paces from the grave. " You 
 would rather be alone?" she asked simply. 
 
 " I wish you to understand," said I, " that for the 
 present I have no choice at all but your will." 
 
 She frowned. " I thought to lighten your work, 
 cavalier." 
 
 I was about to thank her ironically when the 
 sound of a horn broke the silence about us, its notes 
 falling through the clear morning air from the 
 heights across the valley. The Corsicans dropped 
 their spades. 
 
 " Ajo, listen! listen!" cried Marc'antonio ex- 
 citedly. " That will be the Prince — listen again ! 
 Yes, and they are answering from the mountain. It 
 
 327
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANXmE 
 
 can be no other than the Prince, returning this 
 way!" 
 
 While we stood listening, with our faces upturned 
 to the granite crags, I caught the Princess regard- 
 ing me doubtfully. Her gaze passed on as if to in- 
 terrogate Marc'antonio and Stephanu, who, how- 
 ever, paid no heed, being preoccupied. 
 
 Again the horn sounded; not clear as before, al- 
 though close at hand, for the thick woods muffled 
 it. For another three minutes we waited — the Prin- 
 cess silent, standing a little apart, with thoughtful 
 brow, the two men conversing in rapid guttural 
 undertones; then far up the track beneath the 
 boughs a musket-barrel glinted, and another and an- 
 other, glint following glint, as a file of men came 
 swinging down between the pines, disappeared for 
 a moment, and, rounding a thicket of the under- 
 growth, emerged upon the level clearing. In dress 
 and bearing they were not to be distinguished from 
 Marc'antonio, Stephanu, or any of the bandits on the 
 mountain. Each man carried a musket and each 
 wore the jacket and breeches of sad-coloured velvet, 
 the small cap and leathern leggings which I after- 
 wards learnt to be the uniform of patriotic Corsica. 
 But as they deployed upon the glade — some forty 
 men in all — and halted at sight of us, my eyes fell 
 upon a priest, who in order of marching had been 
 
 328
 
 THE FIRST CHALLEXGE 
 
 midmost, or nearly midmost, of the file, and 
 upon a young man beside him, towards whom the 
 Princess sprang with a light step and a cry of salu- 
 tation. 
 
 " The blessing of God be upon you, O brother! " 
 
 "And upon you, O sister!" He took her kiss 
 and returned it, yet (as I thought) with less fervour. 
 Across her shoulder his gaze fell on me, with a 
 kind of peevish wonder, and he drew back a little 
 as if in the act to question her. But she was be- 
 forehand with him for the moment. 
 
 "And how hast thou fared, O Camillo?" she 
 asked, leaning back, with a hand upon his either 
 shoulder, to look into his eyes. 
 
 He disengaged himself sullenly, avoiding her gaze. 
 There could be no doubt that the two faces thus con- 
 fronting one another belonged to brother and sister, 
 yet of the two his was the more effeminate, and its 
 very beauty (he was an excessively handsome lad, 
 albeit diminutively built) seemed to oppose itself to 
 hers and caricature it, being so like yet so infinitely 
 less noble. 
 
 " "We have fared ill," he answered, turning his 
 head aside, and added with sudden petulance, " God's 
 curse upon Pasquale Paoli, and all his house! " 
 
 "He would not receive you?" 
 
 " On the contrary, he made us welcome and lis- 
 
 329
 
 SIK JOH^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 tened to all we had to sav. "When I had done, Father 
 Domenico took up the tale." 
 
 " But surely, brother, when you had given him the 
 proofs — when he heard all " 
 
 " The mischief, sister," he interrupted, stabbing 
 at the ground with his heel and stealing a sidelong 
 glance at the priest, " the mischief was, he had al- 
 ready heard too much." 
 
 She drew back, white in the face. She, too, flung 
 a look at the priest, but a more honest one, although 
 in flinging it she shrank away from him. The priest, 
 a sensual, loose-lipped man, whose mere aspect in- 
 vited one to kick him, smiled sideways and down- 
 wards with a deprecating air, and spread out his 
 hands as who should say that here was no place for 
 a domestic discussion. 
 
 I could make no guess at what the youth had 
 meant; but the girl's face told me that the stroke 
 was cruel, and (as often happens with the weak) his 
 own cruelty worked him into a passion. 
 
 " But who is this man with you? " he demanded, 
 the blood rushing to his face. " And how came you 
 alone with him, and Stephanu, and Marc'antonio? 
 You don't tell me that the others have deserted! " 
 
 " No one has deserted, brother. You will find 
 them all upon the mountain." 
 
 " And the recruits? Is this a recruit? " 
 
 330
 
 THE FIRST CHALLENGE 
 
 " There are no recruits." 
 
 "No recruits? By God, sister, this is too bad! 
 Has this cursed rumour spread, then, all over the 
 countryside that honest men avoid us like a plague 
 — us, the Colonne! " He checked his tongue as she 
 drew herself up and turned from him, before the 
 staring soldiery, with drawn mouth and stony eyes; 
 but stepped a pace after her on a fresh tack of rage. 
 
 " But you have not answered me. Who is this 
 man, I repeat? And eh? — but what in God's name 
 have we here?" He halted, staring at the half- 
 digged grave and Nat's body laid beside it. 
 
 Marc'antonio stepped forward. " These are two 
 prisoners, O Prince, of whom, as you see, we are 
 burying one." 
 
 "Prisoners? But whence? " 
 
 " From England, as they tell us, O Prince." 
 
 331
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE TENDER MERCIES OF PRINCE CAMILLO 
 
 Tyranny is the wish to have in one way what can only be had in 
 another. — Blaise Pascal. 
 
 The young man eyed me insolently for a moment 
 and turned again to his sister. 
 
 " Camilla ! will you have the goodness to ex- 
 plain? " he demanded. 
 
 But here, while she hesitated, searching her broth- 
 er's face proudly yet pitifully, as though unable quite 
 to believe in the continued brutality of his tone, I 
 struck in. 
 
 " Pardon me, Signore," said I, " but an explana- 
 tion from me may be shorter." 
 
 " Eh? So you are English, and speak Corsican? '' 
 
 " Or such Tuscan," answered I modestly, " as may 
 pass for a poor attempt at it. Yes, I am English and 
 have come hither — as the Princess, your sister, will 
 tell you — on a political errand which you may or 
 may not consider important." 
 
 The Princess, who had turned and stood facing 
 
 332
 
 PRIXCE CAMILLO 
 
 her brother again, threw me a quick look. " I know 
 nothing of that," she said hurriedly, " save that 
 he came with five others in a ship from England 
 and encamped at Paomia below; that, being taken 
 prisoners, they professed to be seeking the Queen 
 Emilia, to deliver her; and that thereupon of the 
 six I let four go, keeping this one as hostage, with 
 his friend, who has since died." 
 
 " And the crown," put in Stephanu. " The Prin- 
 cess has forgotten to mention the crown." 
 
 "What crown?" 
 
 " The crown, sir," said I boldly, seeing the Prin- 
 cess hesitate, " of the late King Theodore of Corsica, 
 given by him into my keeping." 
 
 I saw the priest start as if flicked with a whip, 
 and shoot me a glance of curiosity from under his 
 loose upper lids. His pupil stepped up and thrust his 
 face close to mine. 
 
 " £h? So you were seeking me? " he demanded. 
 
 " You are mistaken, sir," said I, " whatever your 
 reason for such a guess. My companions — one of 
 them my father, an Englishman and by name Sir 
 John Constantine — are seeking the Queen Emilia, 
 whom they understand to be held prisoner by the 
 Genoese. Meanwhile your sister detains me as hos- 
 tage, and the crown in pawn." 
 
 I had kept an eye on the priest as I pronounced 
 
 333
 
 SIR JOIIX COXSTANTIXE 
 
 my father's name : and again (or I was mistaken) the 
 pendulous lids flickered slightly. 
 
 " You do not answer my main question," the 
 young man persisted. " What are you doing, here 
 in Corsica, with the crown of King Theodore ? " 
 
 " I am the less likely to answer that question, sir, 
 since you can have no right to ask it." 
 
 " ' No right to ask it? ' " he echoed, stepping back 
 with a slow laugh. " No right to ask it — I! King 
 Theodore's son ! " 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders. I had a mind to laugh 
 back at his impudence, and indeed nothing but the 
 mercy of Heaven restrained me and so saved my life. 
 As it was, I heard an ominous growl and glanced 
 around to find the whole company of bandits regard- 
 ing me with lively disfavour, whereas up to this point 
 I had seemed to detect in their eyes some hints of 
 leniency, even of goodwill. By their looks they 
 had disapproved of their master's abuseful words to 
 his sister, albeit with some reserve which I set down 
 to their training. But even more evidently they be- 
 lieved to a man in this claim of his. 
 
 My gesture, slight as it was, gave his anger its 
 opportunity. He drew back a pace, his handsome 
 mouth curving into a snarl. 
 
 " You doubt my word. Englishman? " 
 
 " I have no evidence, sir, for doubting King 
 
 334
 
 PRINCE CAMILLO 
 
 Theodore's," I answered as carelessly as I could, 
 hoping the while that none of them heard the beat- 
 ing of my heart, loud in my own ears as the throb- 
 throb of a pump, " If you be indeed King Theo- 
 dore's son, then your father " 
 
 " Say on, sir." 
 
 " — Why, then, your father, sir, practised some 
 economy in telling me the truth. But my father 
 and I will be content with the Queen Emilia's simple 
 word." 
 
 As I began this answer I saw the Princess turn 
 away, dropping her hands. At its conclusion she 
 turned again, but yet irresolutely. 
 
 " We will find something less than the Queen 
 Emilia's word to content you, my friend," her 
 brother promised, eyeing me and breathing hard. 
 ''Where is the crown, Stephanu? " 
 
 " In safe-keeping, O Prince. I beg leave to say, 
 too, that it was I who found it in the Englishman's 
 camp and brought it to the Princess." 
 
 " You shall have your reward, my good Stephanu. 
 You shall put the bearer, too, into safe-keeping. 
 Stand back, take your gun, and shoot me this dog, 
 here beside his grave." 
 
 The Princess stepped forward. " Stephanu," she 
 said quietly, " you will put down that gun." 
 
 Her brother rounded on her with a curse. For 
 
 335
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 the moment she did not heed, but kept her eyes on 
 Stephanu, who had stepped back with musket half- 
 lifted and finger already moving towards the trigger- 
 guard. 
 
 " Stephanu," she repeated, " on my faith as a Cor- 
 sican, if you raise that gun an inch — even a little 
 inch — higher, I never speak to you again." Then 
 lifting a hand, she swung round upon her brother, 
 whose rage (I thank Heaven) for the moment choked 
 him. " Is it meet, think you, O brother, for a King 
 of Corsica to kill his hostage?" 
 
 " Is it meet, O sister," he snarled, " for you, of 
 all women, to champion a man — and a foreigner — 
 before my soldiers? Shoot him, Stephanu! " 
 
 Her head went up proudly. " Stephanu will not 
 shoot. And you, my brother, that are so careful — 
 I sometimes think so overcareful — of my honour, 
 for once bethink you that your own deserves atten- 
 tion. This Englishman placed himself in my hands 
 freely as a hostage. From the first, since you force 
 me to say it, I had no liking for him. Afterwards, 
 when I knew his errand, I hated him for vour sake: 
 I hated him so that in my rage I strained all duty 
 towards a hostage that I might insult him. Marc'an- 
 tonio will bear me witness." 
 
 " The Princess is speaking the truth before God," 
 said Marc'antonio gravely. " She made the man a 
 
 336
 
 PRINCE CAMILLO 
 
 keeper of swine yonder." He waved a hand towards 
 the sty. " And he is, as I understand, a cavalier in 
 his own country." 
 
 " I did more than that," the Princess went on. 
 " Having strained the compact, I tempted him to 
 break it — to shoot me or to shoot Marc'antonio, so 
 that one or other of us misrht be free to kill him." 
 
 She paused, again with her eyes on Marc'antonio, 
 who nodded. " And that also is the truth," he said. 
 " She put a gun into his hands, that he might kill 
 me for having killed his friend. I did not under- 
 stand at the time." 
 
 " A pretty coward! " The young man flung this 
 taunt out at me viciously; but I had enough to do 
 to hold myself steady, there by the grave's edge, and 
 did not heed him. 
 
 " I do not think he is a coward," said she. (O, but 
 those words were sweet! and for the first time I 
 blessed her.) " But coward or no coward, he is our 
 hostage and you must not kill him." 
 
 He turned to the priest, who all this while had 
 stood with head on one side, eyes aslant, and the air 
 and attitude of a stranger who, having stumbled 
 on a family squabble, politely awaits its termination. 
 (This, I may say, was the attitude I half-uncon- 
 sciously tried to copy, but with the difference that I 
 kept my eyes on the blue sky above the tree-tops.) 
 
 337
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTxVNTINE 
 
 " Father Domenico, is my sister right? And may 
 I not kill this man? " 
 
 " She is right," answered the reverend father with 
 something like a sigh. " You cannot kill him con- 
 sistently with honour, though I admit the provoca- 
 tion to be great. The Princess appears to have com- 
 mitted herself to something like a pledge." He 
 paused here, and with his tongue moistened his loose 
 lips. " Moreover," he continued, " to kill him, on 
 our present information, would be inadvisable. I 
 know — at least I have heard — something of this Sir 
 John Constantine whom the young man asserts to 
 be his father; and, by what has reached me, he is 
 capable of much." 
 
 " Do you mean," asked the Prince, bridling an- 
 grily, " that I am to fear him? " 
 
 " ]!^ot at all," the priest answered quickly, still 
 with his eyes aslant. " But, from what I have heard, 
 he was fortunate, long ago, to earn the esteem of 
 the good lady your mother, and " — he paused and 
 felt for his snuff-box — " it would appear that the 
 trick runs in the family." 
 
 " By God, then, if I may not kill him, I may at 
 least improve on my sister's treatment," swore the 
 young man. " Made him her swine-keeper, did she? 
 I will promote him a step. Here, you! Take and 
 truss him by the heels! — and fetch me a chain, one 
 of you, from the forage-shed. . 
 
 338 
 
 j>
 
 PRINCE CA]\[TLLO 
 
 In the short time it took him to devise my punish- 
 ment the Prince displayed a devihshly ingenious 
 turn of mind. Within ten minutes under his care- 
 ful directions they had me down flat on my back 
 in the filth of the sty, with my neck securely chained 
 to a post of the palisade, my legs outstretched, and 
 either ankle strapped to a peg. My hands they left 
 free, to supply me (as the Prince explained) with 
 food and drink: that is to say, to reach for the loaf 
 and the pannikin of water which Marc'antonio, un- 
 der orders, fetched from the hut and laid beside me. 
 Marc'antonio's punishment (for bearing witness to 
 the truth) was to be my gaoler and sty-keeper in my 
 room. He was promised, moreover, the job of hang- 
 ing me as soon as my comrades returned. 
 
 In this pleasant posture they left me, whether 
 under surveillance or not I could not tell, being un- 
 able to turn my head and scarce able even to move 
 it an inch either way. 
 
 So I lay and stared up at the sky, until the blazing 
 sun outstared me. I wall dwell on none of my tor- 
 ments but this, which towards midday became in- 
 tolerable. Certainly I had either died or gone mad 
 under it, but that my hands were free to shield me; 
 and these I turned in the blistering glare as a cook 
 turns a steak on the gridiron. Now and again I 
 dabbled them in the pannikin beside me, verv care- 
 fully, eking out the short supply of water. 
 
 339
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 I had neither resisted nor protested. I hugged 
 this thought and meant, if die I must, to die hugging 
 it. I had challenged the girl, promising her to be pa- 
 tient. To be sure protest or resistance would have 
 been idle. But I had kept my word. I don't doubt 
 that from time to time a moan escaped me. ... I 
 could not believe that Marc'antonio was near me, 
 watching. I heard no sound at all, no distant voice 
 or bugle-call from the camp on the mountain. The 
 woods were silent . . . silent as Nat, yonder, in his 
 grave. Surely none but a fiend could sit and watch 
 me without a word. . . . 
 
 Towards evening I broke oif a crust of bread and 
 ate it. The water I husbanded. I might need it 
 worse by and by, if Marc'antonio delayed to come. 
 
 But what if no one should come? 
 
 I had been dozing — or maybe was wandering in 
 slight delirium — when this question wrote itself 
 across my dreams in letters of fire, so bright that it 
 cleared and lit up my brain in a flash, chasing away 
 all other terrors. . . . 
 
 Mercifully, it was soon answered. Far up the 
 glade a horn sounded — my swine-horn, blown no 
 doubt by Marc'antonio. The hogs were coming. 
 . . . Well, I must use my hands to keep them at 
 their distance. 
 
 I listened with all my ears. Yes, I caught the 
 
 340
 
 PRIXCE CAMILLO 
 
 sound of their grunting; it came nearer and nearer, 
 and — was that a footstep, close at hand, behind the 
 palisade? 
 
 Something dropped at my side — dropped in the 
 mire with a soft thud. I stretched out my hand, 
 felt for it, clutched it. 
 
 It was a file. 
 
 My heart gave a leap. I had found a friend, then ! 
 — but in whom? Was it Marc'antonio? No: for I 
 heard his voice now, fifty yards away, marshalling 
 and cursing the hogs. His footstep w^as near the 
 gate. As he opened it and the hogs rushed in, I 
 slipped the file beneath me, under my shoulder- 
 blades. 
 
 The first of the hogs, as he ran by me, put a 
 hoof into my pannikin and upset it; and while I 
 struck out at him, to fend him aside, another brute 
 gobbled up my last morsel of crust. The clatter of 
 the pannikin brought Marc'antonio to my side. For 
 a while he stood there looking down on me in the 
 dusk; then walked off through the sty to the hut 
 and returned with two hurdles which he rested over 
 me, one against another, tentwise, driving their 
 stakes an inch or two into the soil. Slight as the 
 fence was, it would protect me from the hogs 
 and I thanked him. He growled ungraciously, 
 and, picking up the pannikin, slouched off upon 
 
 341
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTAXTINE 
 
 a second errand. Again when he brought it re- 
 plenished, and a fresh loaf of bread with it, I 
 thanked him, and again his only answer was a 
 growl, 
 
 I heard him latch the gate and walk away towards 
 the hut. Night was falling on the valley. Through 
 my roof of hurdles a star or two shone down palely. 
 Now was my time. I slipped a hand beneath me and 
 recovered my file — my blessed file. 
 
 The chain about my neck was not very stout. I 
 had felt its links with my fingers a good score of 
 times in efforts, some deliberate, others frantic, to 
 loosen it even by a little. Loosen it I could not: the 
 Prince had done his work too cleverly: but by my 
 calculation an hour would suffice me to file it 
 through. 
 
 But an hour passed, and two hours, and still I 
 lay staring up at the stars, listening to the hogs as 
 they rubbed flanks and chose and fought for their 
 lairs: still I lay staring, with teeth clenched and the 
 file idle in my hand. 
 
 I had challenged, and I had sworn, " Bethink 
 you now what pains you can put upon me. . . ." 
 These tortures were not of her devising; but I would 
 hold her to them, I was her hostage, and, though it 
 killed me, I would hold her to the last inch of her 
 bond. As a Catholic, she must believe in hell, I 
 
 342
 
 PRINCE CAMILLO 
 
 would carry my wrong even to hell then, and meet 
 her there with it and master her. 
 
 I was mad. After hours of such a crucifixion a 
 man must needs be mad. ..." Prosper, lad, your 
 ideas are nought and your ambitions earth: but you 
 have a streak of damned obstinacy which makes me 
 not altogether hopeless of you! " These had been 
 Xat's words, a month ago; and 'Na.t lay in his grave 
 yonder. . . . The cramp in my legs, the fiery pain 
 ringing my neck, met and ran over me in waves of 
 total anguish. At the point where my will failed 
 me to hold out, the power failed me (I thank 
 Heaven) to lift a hand. Yet the will struggled 
 feebly; struggled on to the verge over which all sen- 
 sation dropped plumb, as into a pit. 
 
 I unclosed my eyes upon the grey dawn ; but upon 
 what dawn I knew not, whether of earth or purga- 
 tory or hell itself. They saw it swimming in a vague 
 light: but my ears, from a sound as of rushing wa- 
 ters, awoke to a silence on which a small footfall 
 broke, a few yards aw^ay. Marc'antonio must have 
 unpenned the hogs; for the sty was empty. And 
 the hogs in their rush must have thrown down the 
 hurdles protecting me; for these lay collapsed, the 
 one at my side, the other across me. 
 
 343
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTmE 
 
 The light footfall drew close and halted. I looked 
 up into the face of the Princess. 
 
 She came, picking her way across the mire; and 
 with caution, as if she feared to be overheard. 
 Clearly she had expected to find the sty empty, for 
 even to my dazed senses her dismay was evident as 
 she caught sight of me beneath the hurdle. 
 
 " You have not gone ! Oh, w^hy have you not 
 gone? " 
 
 She was on her knees beside me in the filth. I 
 heard her calling to Marc'antonio, and presently 
 Marc'antonio came, obedient as ever, yet protesting. 
 
 " He has not gone ! " She moved her hands with 
 a wringing gesture. 
 
 I tried to speak, but for answer could only spread 
 my hand, which still grasped the file: and for days 
 after it kept a blue weal bitten across the palm. 
 
 I heard Marc'antonio's voice protesting as she took 
 the file and sawed with it frantically across my neck- 
 chain. 
 
 " But he must escape and hide, at least." 
 
 " He cannot. Princess. The torture has worn him 
 out." 
 
 " It were better he died, then. For I must go." 
 
 "It were better he died. Princess: but his youth 
 is tough. And that you must go is above all things 
 necessary. The Prince would kill me. . . ." 
 
 344
 
 mg 
 
 
 PKINCE CAMILLO 
 A little while, Marc'antonio! The file is work- 
 
 " To what end, Princess? — since time is wanting. 
 The bngle will call — it may call now at any mo- 
 ment. And if the Prince should miss you — In- 
 deed it were better that he died " 
 
 Their voices swam on my ear through giddy whirls 
 of mist. I heard him persuade her to go — at the 
 last insist upon her going. Still the file worked. 
 
 Suddenly it ceased working. It seemed to me that 
 they both had withdrawn, and my neck still re- 
 mained in bondage, though my legs were free. I 
 knew that my legs were free, though I had not the 
 power to test this by drawing them up. I tried once, 
 and closed my eyes, swooning with pain. 
 
 Upon the swoon broke a shattering blow, across 
 my legs and below the laiees; a blow that lifted my 
 body to clutch with both hands upon night and fall 
 back in agony upon black unconsciousness. 
 
 345
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 HOW MAEC' ANTONIO NURSED ME AND GAVE ME 
 
 COUNSEL 
 
 Yet sometimes famous Princes like thyself, 
 
 Drawn by report, adventurous by desire, 
 
 Tell thee, with speechless tongues and semblance pale, 
 
 That without covering, save yon field of stars, 
 
 They here stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's wars; 
 
 And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist 
 
 For going on Death's net, whom none resist. 
 
 — Pericles, Prince of Tyre. 
 
 His honour forbidding him to kill me, the Prince 
 Camillo had given orders to break my legs: and since 
 to abandon me in this plight went against the con- 
 science of his followers (and even, it is possible, 
 against his own), he had left Marc'antonio behind 
 to nurse me — thus gratifying a second spite. The 
 Prince was an ingenious young man. 
 
 So much I gathered in faint intervals between an- 
 guish while Marc'antonio bound me with rude splints 
 of his own manufacture. Yet he said little and did 
 his surgery, though not ungently, with a taciturn 
 frown which I set do^vn to moroseness, having learnt 
 somehow that the bandits had broken up their camp 
 
 346
 
 HOW marc'a:n^toxio xuksed me 
 
 on the mountain and marched off, leaving us two 
 alone. 
 
 " Did the Princess know of this? " I managed to 
 ask, and I believe this was my first intelligible ques- 
 tion. 
 
 Marc'antonio paused before answering. " She 
 knew that you were to be hurt, but not the 
 manner of it. It was she that brought you the 
 file, by stealth. Why did you not use it, and 
 escape? " 
 
 "She brought me the file?" I knew it already, 
 but found a fierce satisfaction in the words. " And 
 she — and you — tried to use it upon ray chain here 
 and deliver me: I forced you to that, my friends! As 
 for using it myself, you heard what I promised her, 
 yesterday, before her brother came." 
 
 "I heard you talk very foolishly; and now you 
 have done worse than foolishly. I do not under- 
 stand you at all — no, by the Mother of God, I do 
 not! You had the whole night for filing at your 
 chain : and it would have been better for you, and in 
 the end for her." 
 
 " And for you also, Marc'antonio," I added. 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 " And for you also, Marc'antonio? " I repeated it 
 as a question. 
 
 " Your escape would have been put down to me, 
 
 347
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 Englishman. I had provided for that," he answered 
 simply. 
 
 " Forgive me," I muttered, thrown back upon sud- 
 den contrition. " I was thinking only that you must 
 feel it a punishment to be left alone with me. I had 
 forgot " 
 
 " It is hard," he interrupted, " to bear everything 
 in mind when one is young." His tone was quiet, 
 decisive, as of one stating a fact of common knowl- 
 edge: but the reproof cut me like a knife. 
 
 "The Princess has gone too?" I asked. 
 
 " She has gone. They are all gone. That is why 
 it would have been better for her too that you had 
 escaped." 
 
 I pondered this for a minute. " You mean," said 
 I, " that — always supposing the Prince had not 
 killed you in his rage — you would now be at her 
 side?" 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Still, she has Stephanu. Stephanu will do his 
 best," I suggested. 
 
 " Against what, eh ? " He put this poser to me, 
 turning with angry eyes, but ended on a short laugh 
 of contempt. " Do not try make-believe with me, 
 O Englishman." 
 
 " There is one thing I know," said I doggedly, 
 " that the Princess is in trouble or danger. And a 
 
 348
 
 HOW MARC'AXTOXIO NURSED ME 
 
 second thing I know, that you and Stephanu are her 
 champions. But a third thing, which I do not know, 
 in why you and Steplianu hate one another." 
 
 " And yet that should have been the easiest guess 
 of the three," said he, rising abruptly and taking first 
 a dozen paces towards the hut, then a dozen back to 
 the shadow of the chestnut-tree against the bole of 
 which my head rested as he had laid me, having 
 borne me thither from the sty. 
 
 " Campioni? That is a good word and I thank 
 you for it, Englishman. Yet you wonder why I hate 
 Stephanu? Listen. Were you ever in Florence, in 
 the Boboli gardens? " 
 
 " Never. But why? " 
 
 " Mbe! I have travelled, for my part." Marc'an- 
 tonio now and alwavs mentioned his travels with 
 an innocent boastfulness. " Well, in the gardens 
 there you will find a fountain, and on either side of 
 it a statue — the statues of two old kings. They sit 
 there, those two, carved in stone, face to face across 
 the fountain; and with faces so full of hate that I 
 declare it gives you a shiver down the spine — all 
 the worse, if you will understand, because their eyes 
 have no sight in them. Now the story goes that 
 these two kings in life were friends of a princess of 
 Tuscany far younger than themselves, and cham- 
 pioned her, and established her house while she was 
 
 349
 
 Sm JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 weak and her enemies were strong; and that after- 
 wards in gratitude she caused these statues to be set 
 up beside the fountain. Another story (to me it 
 sounds like a child's tale) says that at first there 
 was no fountain, and that the princess knew noth- 
 ing of the hatred between these old men; but 
 the sculptor knew. Having left the order with him, 
 she married a husband of her own age and lived for 
 years at a foreign court. At length she returned 
 to Florence and led her husband one day out through 
 the garden to show him the statues, when for the 
 first time she saw what the sculptor had done and 
 knew for the first time that these dead men had 
 hated one another for her sake; whereupon she let 
 fall one tear which became the source of the foun- 
 tain. To me all this part of the story is foolishness: 
 but that I and Stephanu hate one another not other- 
 wise than those two old kings, and for no very dif- 
 ferent cause, is God's truth, cavalier." 
 
 "You are devoted to her, you two?" I asked, 
 tempting him to continue. 
 
 He gazed down on me for a moment with im- 
 measurable contempt. " I give you a figure, and 
 you would put it into words! Words! " He spat. 
 " And yet it is the truth, Englishman, that once she 
 called me her second father. ' Her second father ' — 
 I have repeated that to Stephanu once or twice when 
 
 350
 
 HOW MARC'AXTONIO XUKSED ME 
 
 I have lost my temper (a rare thing with me). You 
 should see him turn blue! " 
 
 I could get no more out of Marc'antonio that day, 
 nor indeed did the pain I suffered allow me to con- 
 tinue the catechism. A little before night fell he 
 lifted me again and carried me to a bed of clean- 
 smelling heather and fern he had prepared within 
 the hut; and, all the night througii, the slightest 
 moan from me found him alert to give me drink or 
 shift me to an easier posture. Our total solitude 
 seemed from the first to breed a certain good-fellow- 
 ship between us: neither next day nor for many 
 days did he remit or falter in his care for me. But 
 his manner, though not ungentle, was taciturn. He 
 seemed to carry about a weight on his mind; 
 his brow wore a constant frown, vexed and un- 
 happy. Once or twice I caught him talking to him- 
 self. 
 
 " To be sure it was enough to madden all the 
 saints: and the Prince is not one of them. . . ." 
 
 " What was enough to madden all the saints, O 
 Marc'antonio?" I asked from my bed. 
 
 Already he had turned in some confusion, sur- 
 prised by the sound of his own voice. He was down 
 on hands and knees, and had been blowing upon the 
 embers of a wood fire, kindled under a pan of goat's 
 milk. The goat herself browsed in the sunlight be- 
 
 351
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 yond the doorway, in the circuit allowed by a twenty- 
 foot tether. 
 
 " What was enough to madden all the saints, O 
 Marc'antonio? " 
 
 " Why," said he savagely, " your standing up to 
 him and denying his birth and his sister's before all 
 the crowd. I did not think that anything could have 
 saved you." 
 
 " If I remember, I added that the Queen Emilia's 
 bare word would be enough for me." 
 
 " So. But you denied it on his father's, and that 
 is what his enemies, the Paolists all, would give 
 their ears to hear — yes, and Pasquale Paoli himself, 
 though he passes for a just man." 
 
 " Marc'antonio," said I seriously, " are the Prince 
 and Piincess in truth the children of King Theo- 
 dore? " 
 
 " As God hears me, cavalier, they are his twin 
 children, born in the convent of Santa Maria di Fos- 
 ciandora, in the valley of the Serchio, some leagues 
 to the north of Florence; and on the feast-day of 
 Saint Mark these sixteen years ago." 
 
 " Then King Theodore either knew nothing of it, 
 or he was a liar." 
 
 " He was a liar, cavalier." 
 
 " Stay a moment. I have a mind to tell you the 
 whole story as it came to me, and as I should have 
 
 352
 
 HOW MARC'ANTONIO NURSED .AlE 
 
 told it to the Prince Camillo, had he treated me with 
 decent courtesy." 
 
 Marc'antonio ceased blowing the fire and, sitting 
 back on his heels, disposed himself to listen. Very 
 briefly I told him of my journey to London, my 
 visit to the Fleet, and how I received the crown with 
 Theodore's blessing. " That he denied having chil- 
 dren I will not say: but (I remember well) my father 
 took it for granted that he had no children, and he 
 said nothing to the contrary. Indeed on any other 
 assumption his gift of the crown to me would have 
 been meaningless." 
 
 Marc'antonio nodded, following my argument. 
 
 " But there is another difficulty," I went on. 
 " My father, who does not lie, told me once that 
 King Theodore returned to the island in the year 
 'thirty -nine, where he stayed but for a week; and 
 that not until a year later did his Queen escape across 
 to Tuscany." 
 
 But here Marc'antonio shook his head vigorously. 
 " Whoever told your father that, told him an un- 
 truth. The Queen fled from Porto Vecchio in that 
 same winter of 'thirty-nine, a few days before Christ- 
 mas. I myself steered the boat that carried her." 
 
 " To be sure," said I, " my father may have been 
 told this also by King Theodore." 
 
 '' The good sisters of the convent," continued 
 
 353
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTINE 
 
 Marc'antonio, " received the Queen and did all that 
 was necessary for her. But among them must have 
 been one who loved the Genoese or their gold: for 
 when the children were but ten days old they van- 
 ished, having been stolen and handed secretly to the 
 Genoese — yes, cavalier, out of the Queen's own 
 sleeping-chamber. Little doubt had we they were 
 dead — for why should their enemies spare them? 
 And never should we have recovered trace of them 
 but for the Father Domenico, who knew what had 
 become of them (having learnt it, no doubt, among 
 the sisters' confessions, to receive which he visited 
 the convent) and that they were alive and un- 
 harmed: but for his oath's sake he kept the secret, 
 or else waiting for the time to ripen." 
 
 " Then King Theodore may also have believed 
 them dead," I suggested, " Let us do him that jus- 
 tice. Or he may never have known that they 
 existed." 
 
 Marc'antonio brushed this aside with a wave of his 
 hand. " The cavalier," he answered with dignity, 
 " may have heard me allude to my travels? " 
 
 " Once or twice." 
 
 " The first time that I crossed the Alps " — great 
 Hannibal might have envied the roll in Marc'an- 
 tonio's voice — " I bore the King tidings of his 
 good fortune. It was Stcphanu who followed, 
 
 354
 
 HOW MARC'AXTOXIO NURSED ME 
 
 a week later, with the tale that the children were 
 stolen." 
 
 " Then Theodore did believe them dead." 
 
 "At the time, cavalier; at the time, no doubt. 
 But more than twelve years later, being in Brus- 
 sels — " Here Marc'antonio pulled himself up, with 
 a sudden dark flush and a look of confusion. 
 
 " Go on, my friend. You were saying that twelve 
 years later, happening to be in Brussels " 
 
 " By the merest chance, cavalier. Before retiring 
 to England King Theodore spent the most of his 
 exile in Flanders and the Low Countries: and in 
 Brussels, as it happened, I had word of him and 
 learnt — but without making myself known to him 
 — that he was seeking his two children." 
 
 " Seeking them in Brussels? " 
 
 " At a venture no doubt, cavalier. Put the case 
 that you were seeking two children, of whom you 
 knew only that they were alive and somewhere in 
 Europe — like two fleas, as your might say, in a bun- 
 dle of straw " 
 
 I looked at Marc'antonio and saw that he was 
 lying, but politely forbore to tell him so. 
 
 " Then Theodore knew that his children were 
 alive? " said I, musing. " Yet he gave my father to 
 understand that he had no children." 
 
 " Mbe, but he was a great liar, that Theodore ! 
 
 355
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 Always when it profited, and sometimes for the 
 pleasure of it." 
 
 " N^evertheless, to disinherit his own son ! " 
 
 Marc'antonio's shoulders went up to his ears. 
 " He knew well enough what comedy he was play- 
 ing. Disinherit his own son? We Corsieans, he 
 might be sure, would never permit that: and mean- 
 while your father's money bought him out of prison. 
 Ajo, it is simple as milking the she-goat yonder! " 
 
 " If you knew my father better, Marc'antonio, you 
 would find it not altogether so simple as you sup- 
 pose. King Theodore might have told my father 
 that these children lived, and my father would yet 
 have bought his freedom for their sake; yes, and 
 helped him to the last shilling and the last drop of 
 blood to restore them to Corsica and to the Queen 
 their mother." 
 
 " Verily, cavalier, I knew your father to be a 
 madman," said Marc'antonio gravely after consider- 
 ing my words for a while. " But such madness as 
 you speak of, who could take into account? " 
 
 "Eh, Marc'antonio? What acquaintance have 
 you with my father that you should call him 
 mad?" 
 
 " I remember him well, cavalier, and his long 
 sojourning with my late master the Count Ugo at 
 his palace of Casalabrive above the Taravo, and the 
 
 356
 
 HOW MARC'ANTONIO NURSED ME 
 
 love there was between him and my young mistress 
 that is now the Queen Emilia. Lovers they were for 
 all eyes to see but the old Count's. Mbe! we all 
 gossiped of it, we servants and clansmen of the 
 Colonne — even I, that kept the goats over Bicchi- 
 vano, on the road leading up to the palace, and 
 watched them as they walked together, and was of 
 an age to think of these things. A handsomer couple 
 none could wish to see, and we watched them with 
 goodwill; for the Englishman touched her hand with 
 a kind of worship as a devout man touches his beads, 
 and they told me that in his own country he owned 
 great estates — greater even than the Count's. In- 
 deed, cavalier, had your father thought less of love 
 and more of ambition there is no saying but he 
 might have reached out for the crown, and his love 
 would have come to him afterwards. But, as the 
 saying goes, while Peter stalked the muf ro Paul stole 
 the mountain : and again says the proverb, ' Bury not 
 your treasure in another's orchard.' Along came 
 this Theodore and with a few lies took the crown 
 and the jewel with it. So your father went, and 
 has come again after many years; and at the first 
 I did not recognise him, for time has dealt heavily 
 with us all. But afterwards, and before he spoke 
 his name, I knew him — partly by his great stature, 
 partly by his carriage, and partly, cavalier, by the 
 
 357
 
 SIR JOHJ^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 likeness your youth bears to his as I remember it. 
 So you have the tale." 
 
 " And in the telling, Marc'antonio," said I, " it 
 appears that you, who champion his children, bear 
 Theodore's memory no goodwill." 
 
 " Theodore! " Marc'antonio spat again. " If he 
 were alive here and before me, I would shoot him 
 where he stood." 
 
 "For what cause?" I asked, surprised by the 
 shake in his voice. 
 
 But Marc'antonio turned to the fire again, and 
 would not answer. 
 
 • * • • • 
 
 As I remember, some three or four days passed 
 before I contrived to draw him into further talk; 
 and, curiously enough, after trying him a dozen 
 times per ambages (as old Mr. Grylls would have 
 said) and in vain, on the point of despair I suc- 
 ceeded with a few straight words. 
 
 " Marc'antonio," said I, " I have a notion about 
 King Theodore." 
 
 " I am listening, cavalier." 
 
 " — A suspicion only, and horribly to his dis- 
 credit." 
 
 " It is the likelier to be near the truth." 
 
 " Could he — think you — have sold his children to 
 the Genoese? " 
 
 358
 
 HOW MARC'AXTOXTO XTRSED :\rE 
 
 Marc'antonio cast a quick glance at me. " I have 
 thought of that," he said quietlj. " He was capable 
 of it." 
 
 " It would explain why they were allowed to live. 
 A father, however deep his treachery, would make 
 that a part of the bargain." 
 
 Marc'antonio nodded. 
 
 " I would give something," I went on, " to know 
 how Father Domenico came by the secret. By con- 
 fession of one of the sisters, you suggest. Well, it 
 may be so. But there might be another way — only 
 take warning that I do not like this Father Do- 
 menico " 
 
 " I am listening." 
 
 " Is it not possible that he himself contrived 
 the kidnapping — always with King Theodore's con- 
 sent? " 
 
 " Not possible," decided Marc'antonio after a mo- 
 ment's thought. " Xo more than you do I like the 
 man: but consider. It was he who sent us to find 
 and bring them back to Corsica. At this moment, 
 when (as I will confess to you) all odds are against 
 it, he holds to their cause; he, a comfortable priest 
 and a loose liver, has taken to the bush and fares 
 hardly for his zeal." 
 
 " My good friend," said I, " you reason as though 
 a traitor must needs work always in a straight line 
 
 359
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTINE 
 
 and never quarrel with his paymaster: whereas by 
 the very nature of treachery these are two of the 
 unlikeliest things in the world. Now, putting this 
 aside, tell me if you think your Prince Camillo the 
 better for Father Domenico's company? . . . You 
 do not, I see." 
 
 " I will not say that," answered Marc'antonio 
 slowly. " The Prince has good qualities. He will 
 make a Corsican in time. But, I own to you, he has 
 been ill brought up, and before ever he met with 
 Father Domenico. As yet he thinks only of his 
 own will, like a spoilt child; and of his pleasures, 
 which are not those of a king such as he desires 
 to be." 
 
 Said I at a guess, " — But the pleasures — eh, 
 Marc'antonio? — such as a forward boy learns on the 
 pavements; of Brussels for example? " 
 
 I thought for the moment he would have knifed 
 me, so fiercely he started back and then craned for- 
 w'ard at me, showing his white teeth. I saw that 
 my luck with him hung on this moment. 
 
 " Tell me," I said, facing him and dragging hard 
 on the hurry in my voice, " and remember that I 
 owe no love to this cub. You may be loyal to him 
 as vou will, but I am the Princess's man, I! You 
 heard me promise her. Tell me, why has she no 
 recruits? " 
 
 360
 
 HOW MARC'ANTONIO NURSED ME 
 
 He drew back yet farther, still with his teeth 
 bared. " Am / not her man? " he almost hissed. 
 
 " So you tell me," I answered with a scornful 
 laugh, brazening it out. " You are her man, and 
 Stephanu is her man, and the Prince too, and the 
 Father Domenico no doubt. Yes, you are all her 
 men, you four: but why can she collect no others? " 
 I paused a moment and, holding up a hand, checked 
 them off contemptuously upon my fingers. " Four 
 of you! and among you at least one traitor! Stop! " 
 said I, as he made a motion to protest. " You four 
 — you and Stephanu and the Prince and Era Do- 
 menico — know something which it concerns her fame 
 to keep hidden ; you four, and no other that I wot of. 
 You are all her men, her champions: and yet this 
 secret leaks out and poisons all minds against the 
 cause. Because of it, Paoli will hare no dealing 
 with you. Because of it, though you raise your stand- 
 ard on the mountains, no Corsicans flock to it. 
 Pah! " I went on, my scorn confounding him, "I 
 called you her champion, the other day ! Be so good 
 as consider that I spoke derisively. Four pretty 
 champions she has, indeed; of whom one is a traitor, 
 and the other three have not the spirit to track him 
 down and kill him! " 
 
 Marc'antonio stood close bv me now. To mv 
 amazement he was shaking like a man with the ague. 
 
 361
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " Cavalier, you do not understand," he protested 
 hoarsely: but his eyes were wistful, as though he 
 hoped for something which yet he dared not hear. 
 
 "Eh? I do not understand? Well, now, listen 
 to me. I am her man, too, but in a different fashion. 
 You heard what I swore to her, that day, beside my 
 friend's body; that whether in hate or love, and be 
 her need what it might, I would help her. Hear me 
 repeat it, lying here with my both legs broken, 
 helpless as a log. Let strength return to me and 
 I will help her yet, and in spite of all her cham- 
 pions." 
 
 " In hate or in love, cavalier? " Marc'antonio's 
 voice shook with his whole body. 
 
 " That shall be my secret," answered I. (Yet well 
 I knew what the answer was, and had known it since 
 the moment she had bent over me in the sty, filing 
 at my chain.) " It had better be hate — eh, Marc'an- 
 tonio? — seeing that for some reason she hates all 
 men, except you perhaps, and Stephanu, and her 
 brother." 
 
 " We do not count, I and Stephanu. Her brother 
 she adores. But the rest of men she hates, cavalier, 
 and with good cause." 
 
 " Then it had better be hate? " 
 
 " Yes, yes " — and there was appeal in his voice 
 — " it had a thousand times better be hate, could 
 
 362
 
 HOW MARC'ANTONIO NURSED ME 
 
 such a miracle happen." lie peered into my eyes for 
 a moment, and shook his head. " But it is not hate, 
 cavalier; you do not deceive me. And since it is 
 not " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " It were better for you — far better — that Giuse 
 had died of the wound you gave him." 
 
 " Why, what on earth has Giuse to do with this 
 matter?" I demanded. Indeed I had all but for- 
 gotten Giuse's existence. 
 
 " Only this; that had Giuse died, they would have 
 killed you out of hand in vendetta." 
 
 "You are an amiable race, you Corsicans! " 
 
 " And you came, cavalier, meaning to reign over 
 us! . . . Now I have taken a liking to you and will 
 give you a warning. Be like your father, and give 
 up all for love." 
 
 " Suppose," said I after a pause, " that for love 
 I choose rather to dare all? " 
 
 " Signore " — he stepped back and, raising himself 
 erect, flung out both hands passionately — " take 
 her, if you must take her, away from Corsica! She 
 is innocent, but here they will never understand. 
 AVlmt she did she did for her brother, far from home, 
 yet he ... ho has no thanks, no bowels of pity, 
 and here at home it is killing her! There was a 
 young man, a noble, head of the family of Rocca 
 
 363
 
 SIR JOHX co:n^stantine 
 
 Serra by Sartene — " Marc'antonio broke off, trem- 
 bling. 
 
 " You must finish," said I, in a voice cold and slow 
 as the chilled blood about my heart. 
 
 " There was no harm in her. By her brother's 
 will they were betrothed. She hated the youth, and 
 he — he was eager — until the day before the mar- 
 riage 
 
 (( 
 
 What happened, Marc'antonio?" 
 
 " He slew himself, cavalier. Some story reached 
 him, and he slew himself with his own gun. O cav- 
 alier, if you can help us, take her away from 
 Corsica! " 
 
 He cast up both hands and ran from me. 
 
 364
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 I LEARN OF LIBERTY, AND AM RESTORED TO IT 
 
 A! Fredome is a noble thing: 
 Fredome mayse man to haif liking. 
 
 — Bahbour, The Bruce. 
 
 Non enim propter gloriam divitias aut honores pugnamus, sed 
 propter libertatem solummodo, quam nemo bonus nisi cum vita 
 amittit. — Lit. Comit. et Baron. Scotice ad Pap. a.d. 1320 (quoted 
 by Boswell). 
 
 Libertas qua^ sera tamen respexit . . . respexit tamen. 
 
 — Virgil. 
 
 When com ripeth in every steade 
 
 Mury it is in feld and hyde; 
 
 Sinne hit Is and shame to chyde. 
 
 Knyghtis wolleth on huntyng ride. 
 
 The deor galopith by wodis side. 
 
 He that can his tyme abyde, 
 
 At his wille him schal betyde. — Alisaunder. 
 
 More than this Marc'antonio would not tell me, 
 though I laid many traps for more during the long 
 weeks my bones were healing. But although he de- 
 nied me his confidence in this matter, he told me 
 much of this Corsica I had so childishly invaded, and 
 a great deal to make me blush for my random ig- 
 
 365
 
 sm joh:nt coxstaxttxe 
 
 norance; of the people, their untiring feud with 
 Genoa, their insufferable wrongs, their succession of 
 heroic leaders. He did not speak of their passion 
 for liberty, as a man will not of what is holiest in 
 his love. He had no need. It spoke for itself in 
 the ring of his voice, in the glooms and lights of 
 his eyes, sombre and fierce by turns, as we lay on 
 either side of our wood fire; and I listened, till the 
 embers died down, to the deeds of Jean Paul de Leca, 
 of Giudice della Rocca, of Bel Messer, of Sampiero di 
 Ornano, of the great Gaffori and other chiefs, all fa- 
 mous in their day, each in his turn assassinated by 
 Genoese gold. I heard of Venaco, where the ghost 
 of Bel Messer yet wanders, with the ghosts of his 
 wdfe and seven children drowned by the Genoese in 
 the little lake of the Seven Bowls. I heard of the 
 tw^enty-one shepherds of Bastelica who marched 
 down from their mountains, and routed eight hun- 
 dred Greeks and Genoese of the garrison of Ajaccio; 
 how at length they were intercepted and slain be- 
 tween the river and the marshes — all but one youth, 
 who, stretched among his comrades and feigning 
 death, was taken and led to execution through the 
 streets of the town, carrying six heads, and each a 
 kinsman's. I heard how Gaffori, besieged his own 
 house; how the Genoese, having stolen his infant 
 son, exposed the child in the breach to stop the firing; 
 
 366
 
 I LEARX OF LII^ERTY 
 
 and how Gaffori called to them " I was a Corsican 
 before I was a father," and the cannonade went on, 
 yet the child miraculously escaped unhurt. I heard 
 of Sampiero's last fight with his murderers, in the 
 torrent bed under the castle of Giglio; of Maria 
 Gentili of Oletta, who died to save her brother from 
 death. . . . And until now these had not even been 
 names to me! I had adventured to win this king- 
 dom as a man goes out with a gun to shoot par- 
 tridges. I could not hide my shame of it. 
 
 " You have taught me much in these evenings, O 
 Marc'antonio," said I. 
 
 " And you, cavalier, have taught me much." 
 
 " In what way, my friend? " 
 
 Marc'antonio looked across the fire with a smile, 
 and held up a carved piece of wood he had been 
 sharpening to a point. In shape it resembled an 
 elephant's tusk, and it formed part of an apparatus 
 to keep a pig from straying, two of these tusks being 
 so fastened above the beast's neck that they caught 
 and hampered him in the undergrowth. 
 
 " Eccu! " said Marc'antonio. " You have taught 
 me to be a swine-keeper, for instance. There is no 
 shame in any calling but what a man brings to it. 
 You have taught me to endure lesser things for the 
 sake of greater, and that is a hard lesson at my 
 
 age." 
 
 367
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANXmE 
 
 From Marc'antonio I learned not only that this 
 Corsica was a land with its own ambitions, which 
 no stranger might share — a nation small but earnest, 
 in which my presence was merely impertinent and 
 laughable withal — but that the Prince Camillo's 
 chances of becoming its king were only a trifle less 
 derisory than my own. Marc'antonio would not 
 admit this in so many words; but he gave me to 
 understand that Pasquale Paoli had by this time 
 cleared the interior of the Genoese, and was thrust- 
 ing them little by little from their last grip on the 
 extremities of the island — Calvi and some smaller 
 strongholds in the north, Bonifacio in the south, and 
 a few isolated forts along the littoral; that the people 
 looked up to him and to him only; that the con- 
 stitution he had invented was working and working 
 well; that his writ ran throughout Corsica, and his 
 laws were enforced, even those which he had aimed 
 at vendetta and cross-vendetta; and that the militia 
 was faithful to him, almost to a man. " ]^or will I 
 deny, cavalier," he added, " that he seems to me an 
 honest patriot and a wise one. They say he seeks 
 the crown, however." 
 
 " Well, and why not? " I demanded. " If he can 
 unite Corsica and win her freedom, does he not de- 
 serve to be her king? " 
 
 Marc'antonio shook his head. 
 
 368
 
 I LEARN OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Would vour Prince Camillo make a better 
 one? " I urged. 
 
 " It is a question of right, cavalier. I love this 
 Paoli for trouncing the Genoese; but for denying 
 the Prince his rights I must hate him, and especially 
 for the grounds of his denial," 
 
 " Tell me those grounds precisely, Marc'antonio." 
 
 But he would not; and somehow I knew that they 
 concerned the Princess. " Paoli is generous in that 
 he leaves us in peace," he answered, evading the 
 question; "and I must hate him all the more for 
 this, because he spares us out of contempt." 
 
 " Yet," said I, musing, " that priest must have a 
 ■card up his sleeve. Rat that he looked, I cannot 
 fancy him sticking to a ship until she foundered." 
 
 Certainly we were left in peace. For any sign 
 that reached to us there, in our cup of the hills, the 
 whole island might have been desolate. The forest 
 and the beasts in it, tame and wild, belonged — so 
 Marc'antonio informed me — to the Colonne; the 
 slopes between us and the sea to the lost great colony 
 of Paomia. No one disturbed us. Week followed 
 week, yet since the Prince had passed with his men 
 no traveller came down the path which ran between 
 our hut and Nat's grave, over which the under- 
 
 369
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTIXE 
 
 growth already was pushing its autumn shoots. In- 
 deed, the path led no whither but to the sea and 
 the forsaken village. Twice a week Marc'antonio 
 would leave me for five or six hours and return with 
 bread, and at whiles with a bag of dried figs or a 
 basket of cheeses and olives for supplement. I 
 learned that he purchased them in a paese to the 
 southward beyond the forest, and beyond the ridge 
 of the hills; but he made a mystery of this, and 
 I had to be content with his word that in Corsica 
 folk in the bush need never starve. Also, sometimes 
 I would hear his gun, and he would bring me home 
 five or six brace of blackbirds strung on a wand of 
 osier; and these birds grew plumper and made the 
 better eating as autumn painted the arbutus with 
 scarlet berries. 
 
 To me, so long held a prisoner within the hut, this 
 change of season came with a shock upon the never- 
 to-be-sufficiently-blessed day when Marc'antonio, hav- 
 ing examined and felt my bones and pronounced 
 them healed, lifted and bore me, as you might carry 
 a child, up the path to the old camp on the ridge. 
 He was proud (good man) as he had a right to be. 
 Surgeons in Corsica there might be none, as he as- 
 sured me, or none capable of probing an ordinary 
 bullet-wound. But in youth he had learnt the art 
 of bone-setting, and practised it upon the sheep which 
 
 370
 
 I LEARN OF LIBERTY 
 
 slipped and broke themselves in the gorge of the 
 Taravo; and his care of me was a masterpiece, to 
 be boasted over to his dying day. " The smallest 
 limp, at the outside! " he promised me; he would not 
 answer entirely for the left leg, that thrice-teasing, 
 thrice-accursed fracture. xVnother ten davs, and we 
 might be sure; he could not allow me to set foot 
 to ground under ten days. But while he carried 
 me he whistled a lively air, and broke oif to promise 
 me good shooting before a month was out — shoot- 
 ing of blackbirds, of deer perhaps, perhaps even of 
 a mufro. Here the whistling grew lai^go espressivo. 
 And I ? I drew the upland air into my lungs, and 
 the scent of the recovered rnacchia through my nos- 
 trils, and inhaled it as a man inhales tobacco-smoke, 
 and could have whooped for joy. ^N'ot by one-fifth 
 was the scent so intense as I have since smelt it 
 in spring, when all Corsica breaks into flower; yet in- 
 tense enough and exhilarating after the dank odours 
 of the valley. But the colours! On a sudden the 
 rnacchia had burst into fruit — carmine berries of the 
 sarsaparilla, upon which a few late flowerets yet 
 drooped, duller berries of the lentisk, olive-like ber- 
 ries of the phillyria, velvet purple berries of the 
 myrtle, and (putting all to shade) yellow and scarlet 
 fruit of the arbutus, clustering like fairy oranges, 
 here and there so thickly that the whole thicket was 
 
 371
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTmE 
 
 afire and aflame, enough to have deceived Moses! 
 God, how good to see it and be alive! 
 
 Marc'antonio bore me up through the swimming 
 air and laid me in the shadow of the cave — her cave. 
 It was empty as she had left it, and my back pressed 
 the very bed of fern on which she had lain, dry 
 now, after long winnowing by the wind that found 
 its way into every crevice of this mountain summit. 
 
 How could I choose but think of her? Thinking 
 of her, how could I choose but weary myself in vain 
 speculation, by a hundred guesses attempting to 
 force my way past the edge of the mystery, the 
 sinister shadow which wrapped her round, and pene- 
 trate to the heart of it? I recalled her beauty, child- 
 like yet sullen; her eyes, so forthright at times 
 and transparently innocent, yet at times so swiftly 
 clouded with suspicion, not merely shy, but shy with 
 terror, like the eyes of a wild creature entrapped; 
 her bearing, by turns disdainful and defiant with a 
 guarded shame. This turf, these boulders, had made 
 her bower, these matted creepers her curtain. Here 
 she had lived secure among savage men, each one of 
 them ready to die — so Marc'antonio assured me, and 
 all that I had seen confirmed it — rather than injure 
 a hair of her head or suffer it to be injured. She 
 was a king's daughter. Yet this lad of the Rocca 
 Serras, noble, of the best blood of the island, had 
 
 372
 
 I LEARN OF LIBERTY 
 
 turned his own gun upon himself rather than wed 
 with her. 
 
 I thought much upon this lad Rocca Serra. Why- 
 had he died? Was it for loathing her? But men 
 do not easily loathe such beauty. Was it for love 
 of her? But men do not slay themselves for fortu- 
 nate love. Had her loathing been in some way the 
 secret of his despair? I recalled my words to her, 
 and how she had answered them, turning in the steep 
 track among the pines — " I am your hostage. Do 
 with me what you will." " // / could! Ah, if I 
 could! ^^ I liked to think that the lad had loved 
 her and been disdained; yet I pitied him for being 
 disdained, and half-hated him for having dared to 
 love her. Yes, for certain he had loved her. But, 
 if so, her secret had need be as strange almost as 
 that of Sara, the daughter of Raguel, whom seven 
 husbands married, to perish on the marriage eve — 
 " for a wiclced spirit loveth her, which hurteth nobody 
 but those which come unto her." 
 
 In dreams I found myself travelling beyond the 
 grave in search of this dead lad, to question him; 
 and not seldom would awake with these lines run- 
 ning in my head, remembered as old perplexing fa- 
 vourites with my father, though God knows how 
 I took a fancy that they held the clue: 
 
 o i o
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 I long to talk with some old lover's ghost 
 Who dy'd before the God of Love was born. 
 
 I cannot think that he, who then loved most, 
 Sunk so low as to love one which did scorn. 
 
 But since this god produc'd a Destiny, 
 
 And that Vice-Nature Custom lets it be, 
 I must love her that loves not me. 
 
 O, were we waken'd by this tyranny 
 T'ungod this child again, it could not be 
 I should love her who loves not me. 
 
 Rebel and Atheist too, why murmur I 
 As though I felt the worst that love could do? 
 
 Love may make me leave loving, or might try 
 A deeper plague — to make her love me too; 
 
 Which, since she loves before, I'm loth to see: 
 
 Falsehood is worse than hate: and that must be 
 If she whom I love should love me. 
 
 Many wild conjectures I made and patiently built 
 upon, which, if I were to w^rite them down here, 
 would merely bemuse the reader or drive him to 
 think me crazy. There on my enchanted mountain 
 summit, ringed about day after day by the silent 
 land, removed from all human company but Marc'an- 
 tonio's, with no clock but the sun and no calendar 
 but the creeping change of season upon the macchia, 
 what wonder if I forgot human probabilities at times 
 in piecing and unpiecing solutions of a riddle which 
 itself cried out against nature? 
 
 374
 
 I LEARN OF LIBERTY 
 
 Marc'antonio was all the while as matter-of-fact 
 as a good nurse ought to be. He had fashioned me 
 a capital pair of crutches out of boxwood, and no 
 sooner could I creep about on them than he began to 
 discourse, over the campfire, on the hunting excur- 
 sions we were soon to make together. 
 
 " Piano, piano; we will grow strong, and get our 
 hand in by little and little. At first there will be 
 the blackbirds and the foxes " 
 
 " You shoot foxes in Corsica? " I asked. 
 
 Marc'antonio stared at me. " And w^hy not, cav- 
 alier? You would not have us run after them and 
 despatch them with the stiletto! " 
 
 I endeavoured to explain to him the craft and mys- 
 tery of fox-hunting as practised in England. He 
 shook his head over it, greatly bewildered. 
 
 " It seems a long ceremony for one little fox," 
 was his criticism. 
 
 " But if we did it with less ritual the foxes 
 would disappear out of the country," I answered 
 him. 
 
 "And why not?" 
 
 This naturally led me into a discourse on pre- 
 serving game and on our English game laws, which, 
 I regret to say, gravelled him utterly. 
 
 " A peace of God for foxes and partridges! "Why, 
 what do you allow, then, for a man?" 
 
 375
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 I explained that we did not shoot men in England. 
 His jaw dropped. 
 
 " Mbe! In the name of the Virgin, whatever do 
 you do with them ? " 
 
 " We hang them sometimes, and sometimes we 
 fight duels with them." I expounded in brief the 
 distinction between these processes and their for- 
 malities, whereat he remained for a long while in 
 a brown study. 
 
 " Well," he admitted, " by all accounts you Eng- 
 lish have achieved liberty; but, per Bacco, you do 
 strange things with it! " 
 
 ". . . Blackbirds, to begin with," he went on, 
 " and foxes, and a hare, maybe. Then in the next 
 valley there are boars — small, and wild, and fierce, 
 but our great half-tame ones have driven them off 
 this mountain. After them we will extend ourselves 
 and stalk for deer." 
 
 He described the deer to me, and its habits. It 
 was, as I made out, an animal not unlike our red 
 deer, but smaller, and of a duller coat; shy, too, and 
 scarce. He gave me reasons for this. In summer 
 the Corsican shepherds, each armed with a gun, 
 pasture their sheep on the mountains, in winter along 
 the plains and valleys; in either season driving off 
 the poor stag, which in summer is left to range the 
 parched lowlands and in winter the upper snows. Of 
 
 376
 
 I LEAKxV OF LIBERTY 
 
 late years, however, owing to the unsettled state of 
 polities, the shepherds pastured not half the num- 
 bers of sheep that Marc'antonio remembered in his 
 youth, and by consequence the deer had multiplied 
 and grown bolder. He could promise me a stag. 
 Nay, he even hoped that owing to these same causes 
 the mufri were pushing down by degrees to the sea- 
 board from the inland mountains, which they mostly 
 haunted. Ah, that was sport for kings! If fortune, 
 one of these fine days, would send us a full-grown 
 mufrone now! 
 
 But we began upon the blackbirds. I remember 
 yet my first, and how, while I stood trembling a 
 little with that excitement which only a sick man 
 can know who takes up his gun again, Marc'antonio 
 held up the bird and ripped open its crop, filled to 
 bursting with myrtle-berries; and the exquisite vio- 
 let scent they exhaled. 
 
 Already I had flung my crutches away, and three 
 weeks later we were after the deer in good earnest. I 
 had lost all account of time; but winter was upon 
 us, with a wealth of laurestinus flower upon the 
 macchia and a sense of stillness in the air such as 
 we feel at home on windless, sunny mornings in 
 December after a nic;ht of frost. We had started 
 before dawn, and crossed the valley by the track 
 leading past our deserted hut and up between the 
 
 377
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 granite pinnacles on which, as the siuiset touched 
 them, I had so often gazed. We had followed it 
 up beyond the pines and over a pass leading out 
 among a range of undulating foot-hills, which 
 seemed to waver and lose heart a dozen times before 
 making up their minds to unite and climb, and be a 
 snow-capped mountain. But they mounted to the 
 snows at length, and the snows had driven down the 
 stag which, under Marc'antonio's guidance, I stalked 
 for two hours, and shot before noon-day. We left 
 him in the track, to be recovered as we returned, 
 and very cautiously made our way to the crest of 
 the next ridge. I chose a granite boulder for my 
 mark, gained it, crawled under its lee, and, peering 
 over, had whipped my gun to my shoulder and very 
 nearly pulled the trigger — was, in fact, looking along 
 the sight — when I found that I was aiming at a 
 man; and not only that, but at Billy Priske! 
 
 I believe on my faith that thenceforward he owed 
 his life to the shape of his legs — so unlike a deer's. 
 
 He was picking his way across the dry bed of a 
 torrent in the dip not fifty yards below us, leaping 
 from slab to slab of outcropping granite as a man 
 crosses a brook by stepping-stones; and upon a slab 
 midway he halted, drew off his hat, extracted a hand- 
 kerchief, and stood polishing his bald head while he 
 took stock of the climb before him. 
 
 378
 
 I LEARN OF LIBERTY 
 
 "Billy! Billy Priske!" 
 
 He tilted his head still higher, towards the ridge 
 and the rock on which I stood against his sky-line, 
 frantically waving. 
 
 "Hog-roar!" 
 
 ". . . And to think, lad," he panted, ten minutes 
 later, as he stretched himself on the heath beside me 
 — " to think of your mistaking me for a deer! " 
 
 "Did I say so, Billy? Then I lied. It was for 
 a mufro I took you. Marc'antonio here had as good 
 as promised me one." 
 
 His beaming smile changed on the instant to a 
 look of extreme gravity. " See you, lad," he said, 
 " have you ever come across one of these here wild 
 sheep? " 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " I thought not. Well, I have ; and I advise you 
 not to talk irreligious about 'em." 
 
 " I will talk about nothing," said I, " until you 
 tell me how my father is, and of all your adventures." 
 
 " He's well, lad — hearty, and well, and thriving. 
 And he sends you his love, and a paper for your 
 friend here. 'Tis from the Princess; and the upshot 
 is, you're released from your word and free to come 
 back with me." 
 
 Marc'antonio, proud of an opportunity to display 
 his scholarship, broke the seal and read the letter 
 
 379
 
 Sm JOim COXSTANTINE 
 
 with a magisterial frown, which changed, however, 
 to a pleasant, friendly smile as he handed it across 
 to me. 
 
 " Yonr captivity is at an end, cavalier. You said 
 well, after all, that your patience would win the 
 day." 
 
 " If 2/ patience, Marc'antonio? What, then, of 
 yours? " 
 
 The tears sprang suddenly to his eyes, good fellow 
 that he was, and now my good friend. I stretched 
 out a hand, and he grasped and held it for a moment 
 between his twain. We used no more words. 
 
 " So my father is with the Princess? " I asked, 
 turning on Billy, who stared — and excusably — at 
 this evidence of our emotion. 
 
 " No, he isn't," said Billy; " leastways, he was 
 with her when I left him, at a place called Olmeta, 
 or something of the sort. But by this time he's 
 gone north again." 
 
 " And why goes he north? " 
 
 " Because that's where the Genoese have shut up 
 the lady." 
 
 " Meaning the Queen Emilia? " 
 
 Billy nodded. 
 
 " And you have travelled the length of Corsica 
 alone to tell me this and take me back with you? " 
 
 " No, I didn't. Leastways — " Billy opened his 
 
 380
 
 I LPLVRX OF LIBERTY 
 
 bag of provender, selected a crust, and began to 
 munch it very deliberately. " There's a saying," he 
 went on between mouthfuls, " about somebody or 
 other axin' more questions in one breath than a wise 
 man can answer in a week; and, likewise, there's an- 
 other saying that even a bagpipe won't speak till his 
 belly be full. Well, now, as for coming alone, in 
 the first place and in round numbers I didn't; and 
 as for coming to tell you this, partly it was and partly 
 it wasn't; and as for your going back with me, that's 
 for you to choose." 
 
 " Well, then," said I, humouring him, " we will 
 take you point by point, in order. To begin with, you 
 did not come alone — ergo, you had company. What 
 company? " 
 
 " Very poor company, lad, and by name Stephanu. 
 That hatchet-faced Prince Camillo chose him out for 
 a guide to me — " Billy paused, with his mouth open 
 for a bite. "Why, whatever is the matter?" he 
 asked; for I had turned to translate this to Marc'an- 
 tonio, and Marc'antonio had started up with a growl 
 and an oath. 
 
 "Did Stephanu come willingly?" I asked. 
 
 " As I was saying, the Prince chose him for guide 
 to me, and he couldn't have chosen a worse one. If 
 you'll believe me, there wasn't an ounce of comfort 
 in the man from the start; and this morning, having 
 
 381
 
 SIR JOHN CO]\"STANTINE 
 
 put me in the road so that I couldn't miss it, he 
 turned back and left me — in a desperate hurry, 
 too." 
 
 I glanced at Marc'antonio, who had risen and was 
 striding to and fro upon the ridge with his fists 
 clenched. There was mischief here for a certainty, 
 and Stephanu's behaviour confirmed it. For a mo- 
 ment, however, I forbore to translate further, and 
 resumed my catechising of Billy. 
 
 " In the second place you came with my release, 
 and to bring me news, and — with what purpose be- 
 side?" 
 
 " Why, with a message for the ship, to be sure." 
 
 "The ship?" I stared at him. "What ship?" 
 
 " Why, the Gauntlet ketch ! You don't tell me," 
 said Billy, with a glance westward, where, however, 
 the hills intervened and hid the coast from us — " you 
 don't tell me you haven't sighted her! But she's 
 here, lad — she must be here! Your father sent 
 home word by her that she was to be back wi' rein- 
 forcements by the first day of November; and did 
 you ever in your life know your uncle disappoint 
 him?" 
 
 " Marc'antonio," said I, " what is this I hear from 
 Billy about a ship? " 
 
 Marc'antonio gave a start, and looked from me to 
 Billy in evident confusion. 
 
 382
 
 I LEARN OF LIBERTY 
 
 " Truly, cavalier, there was a ship. ... I spied 
 her there three days ago, at sunset, making for the 
 island." 
 
 " Was she the same ship that first brought us to 
 the island?" 
 
 " She was very like," he answered unwillingly. 
 *' Yes, indeed, cavalier, I have no doubt she was the 
 same ship." 
 
 " And you never told me ! I^ay, I see now why 
 for these three days we have been hunting to the 
 east of our camp, and always where the coast was 
 hidden — yes, yes, I see now a score of tricks you 
 have played me while I trusted to your better knowl- 
 edge . . . Marc'antonio," I said sternly, " did you 
 indeed believe so ill of me as that at sight of the 
 ship I should forget my paroWi " 
 
 " It was not that, cavalier; believe me, it was not 
 that. I feared " 
 
 " Speak on, man." 
 
 " I feared you might forget our talks together, 
 and, when your release came, forget also that other 
 adventure on which I had hoped to bind you. The 
 Princess " 
 
 " Then your fear, my friend, did me only a little 
 less injustice. You have heard how my father per- 
 severes for a woman's sake; and I am my father's 
 
 son, I hope. As for the Princess " 
 
 383
 
 SIR JOHX CONSTANTIXE 
 
 " She is in worse case than ever, cavalier, since 
 thej have contrived to get rid of Stephanu." 
 
 " On the contrary, my friend, her case is hopeful 
 at length; since this release sets lis free to help her." 
 
 We trudged back to the camp, pausing on the way 
 while Marc'antonio skewered the deer's legs and 
 slung him on a pole between us. As we started 
 afresh Billy observed for the first time that I walked 
 with a limp. 
 
 "A broken leg," said I carelessly; for it would 
 not have done to tell him all the truth. 
 
 " Well, well," said he, content with the explana- 
 tion, " accidents will happen to them that travel, and 
 a broken leg, they say, is stronger when well set." 
 
 " If that's so," said I, " I've a double excuse to 
 be thankful," which he did not understand, as I did 
 not mean him to. 
 
 Darkness fell on us a little before we reached the 
 camp. From the first I had recognised there could 
 be no chance to-day of visiting the shore and seek- 
 ing the Gauntlet at her anchorage. We were weary, 
 too, and hungry, and nothing remained to do but 
 light the campfire, cook our supper, and listen to 
 Billy's tale of his adventures, a good part of which 
 will be found in the following chapter. I ought 
 
 384
 
 I LEARN OF LIBERTY 
 
 to say, rather, that Billy and I conversed, while 
 Marc'antonio — for we spoke in English — sat by the 
 fire busy with his own thoughts; and, by his face, 
 they were gloomy ones. 
 
 " "What puzzles me, Billy," said I, as we parted 
 for the night, " is who can be aboard of the ketch. 
 Reinforcements? Why, what reinforcements could 
 my uncle send? " 
 
 " The devil a one of me knows, as the Irishman 
 said," answered Billy cheerfully. " But sent 'em he 
 has, and, if I know anything of Mr. Gervase, they're 
 good ones." 
 
 I was up before dawn, and the sun rose over the 
 shoulder of our mountain to find me a mile and 
 more on my way down the track which led to the 
 sea. I passed the clearing and the copse where Xat 
 had taken his wound, and the rock, high on my right, 
 where I had stood and spied him running, the mac- 
 c/iia-filled hollows and dingles, the wood, the village, 
 still desolate, the graveyard where we had first 
 encamped; and so came to the meadow below it, 
 where Mr. Fett had gathered his nmshrooms. It 
 was greener than I remembered it, owing to the au- 
 tuum. rains. . . . 
 
 I pulled up with a start. At the foot of the 
 meadow, where the stream ran in a curve between it 
 
 385
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 and the woods, stood a man. He held a fishing-rod 
 in his hand, and was stepping back to make a cast; 
 but, at a cry from me, paused and turned slowly 
 about. 
 
 "Uncle Gervase!" 
 
 "My dear Prosper!" He dropped his rod and 
 advanced, holding out his hands to me. " Why, lad, 
 lad, you have grown to a man in these months! " 
 
 " And it really is you, uncle ! " I cried again, as 
 yet scarcely believing it, though I clasped him by 
 both hands. " And what are you doing here? " 
 
 " Why," said he quizzically, " 'tis a monstrous 
 confession for this time of the year, but I was fishing 
 for trout; and, what is more, I have taken two, with 
 Walton's number two June-fly, lad — Mr. Grylls's 
 variety — the wings, if you remember, made of the 
 black drake's feathers, with a touch of grey horse- 
 hair on the shank. I wished to know, first, if a 
 Corsican trout would answer to a Cornish fly, and, 
 next, if they keep the same seasons as in England. 
 They do. Prosper — there or thereabouts. To tell 
 you the truth — though, as they say, an angler may 
 catch a fish, but it takes a fisherman to tell the truth 
 about him — I found them woundily out of condition, 
 and restored them, as Mr. Grylls would put it, to 
 their native element." 
 
 " You don't tell me that the Vicar is here, too? " 
 
 386
 
 I LEARX OF LIBERTY 
 
 I asked, prepared at this time to be surprised at 
 nothing. 
 
 " He is not, lad, though I pleaded with him very 
 earnestly to come, being, as you may guess, put to 
 my wits' end by your father's message." 
 
 " But how, then, have you managed? " 
 
 " Pretty well, Prosper — pretty well. But come 
 and see for yourself. The Gauntlet lies at her old 
 anchorage — or so Captain Pomery tells me — and 'tis 
 but a step down the creek to where my boat is 
 waiting." 
 
 We walked down beside the stream, my uncle, as 
 we went, asking a score of questions about our ad- 
 ventures and about my father and his plans; ques- 
 tions w^hich I was in no state of mind to answer 
 coherently. But this mattered the less since he had 
 no leisure to listen to my answers. 
 
 I felt, as I said just now, ready to be surprised 
 at nothing. But in this I was mistaken, as I found 
 when we rounded the corner by the creek's head, and 
 my eyes fell on a boat waiting, a stone's throw from 
 the landing-place, and on the crew that manned her. 
 
 " Good Lord ! " I cried, and stood at a halt. 
 
 They were seven — six rowers and a coxswain — 
 and all robed in russet gowns that reached to their 
 ankles. The Trappist monks! 
 
 387
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 OF MY father's ANABASIS; AND THE DIFFERENT TEM- 
 PERS OF AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN AND A WILD 
 SHEEP OF CORSICA 
 
 Bright thoughts, clear deeds, constancy, fidelity, bounty, and 
 generous honesty are the gems of noble minds; wherein (to 
 derogate from none) the true heroick English Gentleman hath no 
 peer. — Sir Thomas Browne. 
 
 La domesticite n'a eu aucune influence sur le d^veloppement 
 intellectuel des mouflons que nous avons possedes. . . . Les 
 hommes ne les effrayaient plus; il semblait meme que ces animaux 
 eussent acquis plus de confiance dans leur force en apprenant ^ 
 nous connaitre. Sans doute on ne pent point conclure de quel- 
 ques individus k I'espece entiere; mais on peut assurer sans rien 
 hasarder, que le mouflon tient une des demi^res places parmis les 
 mammif^res quant a I'intelligence. — Saint-Hilaire et Cuvier, 
 Histoire Naturelle des Mammiferes. 
 
 " You will find them very good fighters," said my 
 uncle. " The most of them, as I understand from 
 Dom Basilio, were soldiers at one time or another 
 before they embraced their present calling." 
 
 " But the devil of it is," said I, " how you con- 
 trived to enlist 'em?" 
 
 My uncle stood still and rubbed the back of his 
 
 388
 
 OF MY FxVTHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 head. " I don't know, Prosper, that I used any ar- 
 guments. I just put the case to them; through Dom 
 Basilio, vou understand." 
 
 " In other words, you made them an eloquent 
 speech." 
 
 " I did nothing of the sort," he corrected me 
 hastily. " In the first place because I have never 
 made a speech and couldn't manage one if I tried; 
 and next, because it is against their rules. I just 
 put the case to Dom Basilio. All the credit belongs 
 to him." 
 
 Dom Basilio — for the coxswain of the boat proved 
 to be he and no other — gave me a different account 
 as we pulled towards the Gauntlet. Yet it agreed 
 with my uncle's in the main. 
 
 " In faith," said he, " if there be any credit in 
 what we have done or are about to do, set it down 
 to your uncle. Against goodness so simple no man 
 can strive, though he bind himself by vows. Grati- 
 tude may have helped a little; but you can say, and 
 you will not be far out, that for very shame we are 
 here." 
 
 Captain Pomery, who hailed me over the ship's 
 side, proudly invited me to row around and inspect 
 the repairs in her — particularly her new stem-post — 
 before climbing on board. For my part, while con- 
 gratulating him u23on them and upon his despatch, 
 
 389
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTmE 
 
 I admired more the faces of Mike Halliday and 
 Roger Wearne, grinning welcome to me over the bul- 
 warks. They, too, called my attention to the repairs; 
 to the new rudder, fitted with chains in case of 
 accident to the helm, to the grain of the new mizzen- 
 mast (a beautiful spar, and ^vithout a knot), to the 
 teak hatch-coverings which had replaced those shat- 
 tered by the explosion. They desired me to marvel 
 at everything; but that they themselves after past 
 perils should be here again and ready, for no more 
 than seamen's pay, to run their heads into perils yet 
 unhandselled, was to these honest fellows no matter 
 worth considering. 
 
 " But whither be we bound. Master Prosper? " 
 demanded Captain eJo. " For 'tis ill biding for or- 
 ders after cracking on to be punctual; and tho' I say 
 naught against the anchorage as an anchorage, the 
 wind, what with these hills and gullies, is like Mul- 
 ligan's blanket, always coming and going; and by 
 fits an' starts as the ague took the goose; and likewise 
 backwards and forwards, like Boscastle fair: so that 
 our cables be twisted worse than a pig's tail." 
 
 " As for that," said I, " your next rendezvous, I 
 hear, is the island of Giraglia; but, for the whole 
 plan of campaign, you must come and hear it from 
 Billy Priske, who will tell you what my father has 
 done and what he intends." 
 
 390
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 Accordingly, after breakfasting aboard, we were 
 landed again and went up the mountain together — 
 my uncle Gervase, Captain Pomery, Dom Basilio, 
 and I: and on the slope below the Princess's cave 
 we sat and listened to Billy's story, the Trappist 
 translating it to Marc'antonio, who sat with his gun 
 across his knees and his eyes fastened on my uncle's 
 gentle, venerable face. 
 
 Billy Priske's Story of My Father's Campaign 
 
 " As Master Prosper has told you, gentlemen all, 
 we left him sitting alongside poor Mr. Fiennes, and 
 took the path that leads down and across the valley 
 yonder and out again on the north side. There were 
 four of us — my master, myself, and the creatures 
 Fett and Badcock — each man with his gun and good 
 supply of ammunition. Besides this Sir John carried 
 his camp-stool and spy-glass, and in his pocket a 
 map along with his Bible and tobacco-pouch; I the 
 wine and his spare gun; Fett the bag of provisions; 
 and Badcock his flute and a gridiron." 
 
 " Why a gridiron? " asked my uncle. 
 
 " The reason he gave, sir, was that it's just these 
 little things that get left behind, on a picnic; which 
 Sir John, when I reported it, pronounced to be a 
 very good reason. ' And, as it happens,' said he, 
 
 391
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 t ? 
 
 tis the very reason why Mr. Badcock hmiself goes 
 with us : for my son, when he becomes king, will need 
 a Fool, and I have brought a couple in case of acci- 
 dents.' 
 
 " We started then, as Master Prosper will remem- 
 ber, a little before dark; and, having lanterns to light 
 the track, and now and then the north star between 
 the tree-tops to give us our bearings, we crossed the 
 valley and came out through a kind of pass upon 
 a second slope, a little nor'-west of the spot where 
 I happened yesterday on Master Prosper. By this. 
 Sir John's watch marked ten o'clock, and, finding us 
 dead-beat by the roughness of the track, he com- 
 manded us to lie down and sleep. 
 
 " The next morning, after studying his map, he 
 started afresh, still holding northward in the main 
 but bearing back a little to the left — that is, towards 
 the sea, which before noon we brought in sight at a 
 place he called La Plana, where (he said) was a fish- 
 ing village: and so no doubt there was, for we spied 
 a two-three boats moored a little way out from the 
 shore — looking down upon them through a cleft in 
 the rocks. The village itself we did not see, but 
 skirted it upon high ground and came down to the 
 foreshore a short two miles beyond it; where we 
 found a beach and a spit of rock, and on the spit 
 a tumble-down tower standing, as lonely as a combed 
 
 392
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 louse. Above the beach ran a tolerable coast-road, 
 which divided itself into two, after crossing a bridge 
 behind the tower; tlie one following the shore, the 
 other striking inland up the devil of a gorge. This 
 inland road we took, for two reasons: the first, that 
 by the map it appeared to cut off a corner of our 
 journey; the second, because the map showed a vil- 
 lage, not three miles up the gorge, where we might 
 get advice, 
 
 " After an hour's climbing then (for the road 
 twisted uphill along the edge of the torrent) we came 
 to the village, which was called Otta. Now the first 
 thing to happen to us in Otta was that we found 
 it empty — not so much as a dog in the street — but 
 all the inhabitants on the hill above, in a crowd be- 
 fore a mighty great stone: and Badcock would have 
 it that they were gathered together in fear of us. 
 But the true reason turned out to be something quite 
 difi^erent. For this stone overhangs the village, 
 which is built on a stiff slope; and though it has 
 hung there for hundreds of years without moving, 
 the villagers can never be easy that it will not tumble 
 on top of them; and once a year regularly, and at 
 odd times when the panic takes them, they march 
 up and tie it with ropes. This xcry thing they were 
 doing as we arrived, and all because some old woman 
 had dreamed of an earthquake. We took notice that
 
 SIR JOHI^ CONSTANTINE 
 
 in the crowd and in the gang binding the stone there 
 was no man the right side of fifty (barring a cripple 
 or two); the reason being, as it turned out, that all 
 their young men had enlisted in the militia. 
 
 " These people made us welcome (and I will say, 
 gentlemen, once for all and in spite of what has 
 happened to Master Prosper here, that there is no 
 such folk as the Corsicans for kindness to strangers), 
 but they told us we were on the wrong road. By 
 following the pass we should find ourselves in forest- 
 tracks wdiich indeed would lead us down to the great 
 plain of the Niolo and across it to Corte, whence a 
 good road ran north to Cape Corso; but our shorter 
 way was the coast-road, which (they added) we must 
 leave before reaching Calvi — for fear of the Genoese 
 — and take a southerly one which wound through the 
 mountains to Calenzana. They explained this many 
 times to Sir John, and Sir John explained it to us; 
 and, learning that we were English, and therefore 
 friends of liberty, they forced us to drink wine with 
 them — lashins of wine — until just as my head was 
 beginning to feel muzzy, some one called out that 
 we were heroes and must drink the wine of heroes, 
 the pride of Otta, the Invincible St. Cyprien. 
 
 " By this time we were all as sociable together as 
 mice in malt, except that these Corsicans never 
 laughed at all, but stared at us aw'esome-like even 
 
 394
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 when the creature Fctt put one foot on a chair and 
 another on the table and made 'em a long tomfool 
 speech in English, calling 'cm friends, Romans, and 
 countrymen and asking them to lend him their ears, 
 as though his own weren't long enough. Then they 
 brought in the Invincible St. Cyprien, and Sir John 
 poured out a glass, and sniffed and tasted it and 
 threw up his head, gazing round on the company and 
 looking every man full in the eyes. I can't tell you 
 why, gentlemen, but his bearing seemed so noble to 
 me at that moment I felt I could follow him to the 
 death (though of course there wasn't the leastest 
 need for it, just then). I reached out for the bottle, 
 filled myself a glass, drank it off, and stared around 
 just as defiant. It gave me a very pleasant feeling 
 in the pit of the stomach, and the taste of it didn't 
 seem calculated to hurt a fly. So I took two more 
 glasses quickly, one after the other; and every one 
 looked at me with their faces very bright all of a 
 sudden — and the room itself grown brighter — and 
 to my astonishment I heard them calling upon me in 
 English for a speech. Whereby, being no public 
 speaker, I excused myself and walked out into the 
 village street, which was bright as day with the moon 
 well over the cliffs on the other side of the gorge, 
 and (to my surprise) crowded with people so that T 
 couldn't have believed the whole City of London 
 
 395
 
 SIR JOHX co:n^staxtine 
 
 held half the number, let alone a God-forsaken hole 
 like Otta. I stood for a while on the doorstep count- 
 ing 'em, and the next thing I remember was crossing 
 the street to a low wall overhanging the gorge and 
 leaning upon it and watching the cliffs working up 
 and down like mine-stamps. This struck me as 
 curious, and, after thinking it over, I made up my 
 mind to climb across and discover the reason." 
 
 " I fear, Billy," said my uncle, " that you must 
 have been intoxicated." 
 
 " — But the worst, sir, was the moon ; which was 
 not like any ordinary moon, but kept swelling and 
 bursting in showers of the most beautiful fireworks, 
 so that I said to myself ' O for the wings of a dove,' 
 I said, ' so that I fetch some one to put a stop to 
 this! ' And I'd hardly said the words before it was 
 broad day, and me lying in the street with a small 
 crowd about me, very solemn and curious, and my 
 head in the lap of a middle-aged woman that smelt 
 of garlic, but without any pretensions to looks. And 
 she was lifting up her head and singing a song, and 
 the sound of it as melancholy as a gib-cat in a gar- 
 den of cucumbers. Whereby the whole crowd stood 
 by and stared, without offering to help. Whereby 
 I said to myself ' This is a pretty business, and no 
 mistake.' Whereby I saw Sir John come forth from 
 the house where the drinking had been, and his face 
 
 396
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 was white but his step steady: and says he, 'What 
 have you been doing to this woman? ' ' Nothing at 
 all,' said I; 'or, leastways, nothing to warrant this 
 behaviour on her part.' ' Well,' said he, ' you may 
 be surprised to hear it, but she maintains that you 
 are betrothed to her.' ' A man,' said I, ' may woo 
 where he will, but must wed where his wife is. If 
 this woman be my fate, I'll say no more except that 
 'tis hard: but as for courting her, I never did so.' 
 ' You are in a worse case than you guess,' said he ; 
 'for, to begin with, the lady is a widow; and, sec- 
 ondly, she is marrying you, not for your looks, but 
 for revenge.' 'Why, what have I done?' said I. 
 ' Nothing at all,' said he; ' but from what I can hear 
 of it, five years ago a man of Evisa, up the valley, 
 stole a goat belonging to this woman's husband; 
 whereupon the husband took a gun and went to 
 Evisa and shot the thief's cousin, mistaking him for 
 the thief; whereupon the thief came down to Otta 
 and shot the honest man one day while he was gath- 
 ering olives in his orchard. He himself left neither 
 chick nor child; but his kinsmen of the family of 
 Paolantonuccio took up the quarrel, and with so 
 much liveliness that to-day but three of them sur- 
 vive, and these are serving with the militia just now. 
 For the while, therefore, the AVidow Paolantonuccio 
 has no one to carry on the custom of the country; 
 
 397
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 nor will have until a husband offers.' ' For pity's 
 sake, Sir John/ said I, ' get me out of this ! Tell 
 them that if any man has been courting this woman 
 'tis not I, William Priske, but another in my image.' 
 ' AYhv, to be sure ! ' cried Sir John. ' It must have 
 been the Invincible St. Cyprien! ' 
 
 " So stepping back and seating himself again upon 
 the doorstep, he began to argue with the villagers, 
 the woman standing sullen all the while and hold- 
 ing me by the arm. I could not understand a word, 
 of course, but later on he told me the heads of his 
 discourse. 
 
 " ' I began,' he said, ' by expounding to them all 
 the doctrine of cross-revenge, or vendetta trasversa 
 as they call it; and this I did for two reasons — the 
 first because in an argument nothing succeeds like 
 telling a man something he knows already — the sec- 
 ond because it proved to them, and to me, that I 
 wasn't drunk. For the doctrine is a complicated one. 
 
 " ' Next I taught them that the doctrine was 
 damnable, and had been pronounced to be damnable 
 by their beloved leader Pascal Paoli; and that it 
 robbed Corsica of men who should be fighting the 
 Genoese, on which errand we were bound. 
 
 " ' And lastly I proved to them on the authority of 
 several wise philosophers (some of Greece, and others 
 of my own invention, that a man with three glasses 
 
 398
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 of their wiiic in his belly was ii man possessed, and 
 therefore that either nothing had happened, or, if 
 anything had happened, the fellow to blame must 
 be that devil of a warrior the Invincible St. Cyprien. 
 
 " ' Yet (as so often happens) the argument that 
 really persuaded them, as I believe, was one I never 
 used at all: which was, that the woman had money 
 and a parcel of land, and albeit no man could pick 
 up courage to marry her, they did not relish a 
 stranger stepping in and cutting them out.' 
 
 " Be that as it may, gentlemen, in twenty min- 
 utes the crowd had come round to Sir John's way 
 of thinking: and they not only sold us mules at thirty 
 livres apiece — \vhich Sir John knew to be the fair 
 current price — but helped us to truss up Mr. Fett 
 and Mr. Badcock, each on his beast, and walked with 
 us back to the cross-roads, singing hymns about Cor- 
 sican libertv. Onlv we left the woman sadlv cast 
 down. 
 
 " From the cross-roads, where they left us and 
 turned back, our road led through a great forest 
 of pines. Among these pines hung thousands of 
 what seemed to be balls of white cotton, but were 
 the nests of a curious caterpillar; which I only men- 
 tion because Mr. Fett, recovering himself, picked up 
 one of these caterpillars and slipped it down the nape 
 of Mr. Badcock's neck, whereby the poor man was 
 
 399
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 made uncomfortable all that day and the next: for 
 the hairs of the insect turned out to be full of poison. 
 In the end we were forced to strip him and use the 
 gridiron upon him for a currycomb; so it came in 
 handy after all. 
 
 " On the second day, having crossed a river and 
 come to a village which, if I remember, was called 
 Manso, we bore away southward among the most 
 horrible mountains. Among these we wandered 
 four days, relying always on Sir John's map: but I 
 reckon the man who made it must have drawn the 
 track out of his own head and trusted that no person 
 would ever be fool enough to go there. Hows'ever, 
 the weather keeping mild, we won through the passes 
 with no more damage than the loss of Mr. Fett's 
 mule (which tumbled over a precipice on the third 
 day), and a sore on Mr. Fett's heel brought about by 
 his having to walk the rest of the way into Calenzana. 
 
 " Now at Calenzana, a neat town, we found our- 
 selves nearly in sight of Calvi and plumb in sight of 
 the Genoese outposts that were planted a bare gun- 
 shot from the house where we lodged, on the road 
 leading northward to Calvi gate. To the south, as 
 we heard — though we never saw them — lay a regi- 
 ment of Paoli's militia; and between the two forces 
 Calenzana stood as a sort of no-man's-land, albeit the 
 Genoese claimed what they called a ' supervision ' 
 
 400
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 over it. In fact they never entered it, mistrusting its 
 defences, and also the temper of its inhabitants, who 
 were likely enough to rise at their backs if the pa- 
 triots gave an assault. 
 
 " They contented themselves, then, with advanc- 
 ing their outposts to a bend on the Calvi road not 
 fifty yards from our lodging, which happened to be 
 the last house in the suburbs; and from his window, 
 during the two days we waited for Mr. Fett's sore 
 to heal. Sir John would watch the guard being re- 
 lieved, and sometimes pick up his gun and take long 
 aim at the sentry, but lay it down with a sort of 
 sigh: for though the sight of a Genoese was poison 
 to him, he reckoned outpost-shooting as next door 
 to shooting a fox. 
 
 " Our hosts, I should tell you, were an old soldier 
 and his wife. The man, by his own account, fol- 
 lowed the trade of a bird-stuffer; which was just an. 
 excuse for laziness, for no soul ever entered his shop 
 but to hear him talk of his campaigning under Gaf- 
 fori and under the great Pascal Paoli's father, 
 Hyacinth Paoli. This he would do at great length, 
 and, for the rest, lived on his wife, who was a well- 
 educated woman and kept a school for small chil- 
 dren when they chose to come, which again was not 
 often. 
 
 " This Antonio, as we called him, kept in his shop 
 
 401
 
 SIR JOim CONSTANTIXE 
 
 and in a pen behind it a young ram, which was his 
 pet and the pride of Calenzana: for, to begin with, 
 it was a wild ram; and in addition to this it was 
 tame; and, to cap all, it wasn't a bit like a ram. 
 And yet it was a wild ram — a wild Corsican ram. 
 
 " Being an active sort of man in his way, though 
 well over fifty, and given to wandering on the moun- 
 tains above Calenzana, he had come one day upon a 
 wild sheep with a lamb running at her heels. He 
 let fly a shot (for your Corsican, Master Prosper, 
 always carries a gun) and ran forward. The mother 
 made off, but the lamb, scared out of its wits, sat 
 and squatted like a hare; and so Antonio took him 
 up and carried him home. 
 
 " By the time we came to Calenzana the brute had 
 grown to full size, with horns almost two feet long. 
 As we should reckon, they were twisted the wrong 
 way for a ram's, and for fleece he had a coat like a 
 Gossmoor pony's, brown and hairy. But a ram he 
 was; and, the first night, when Mr. Badcock obliged 
 us with a solo on the flute, he came forward and 
 stared at him for a time and then butted him in the 
 stomach. 
 
 " We had to carry the poor man to bed. We slept, 
 all four of us, in a loft, which could only be reached 
 by a ladder; and a ram, as you know, can't climb a 
 ladder. It's out of nature. Yet the brute tried its 
 
 402
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 best, having taken such a fancy to Badcock, and 
 wouldn't be denied till his master beat him out of 
 doors with a fire-shovel and penned him up for the 
 night. 
 
 " The next morning, being loosed, he came in to 
 breakfast with the family — as his custom was — and 
 butted a crock of milk all over the kitchen hearth, 
 but otherwise bore himself like a repentant sinner; 
 the only difference being that from breakfast onward 
 he turned away from his master and took to fol- 
 lowing Mr. Fett, who didn't like the attention at all. 
 Badcock kept to his bed; and Mr. Fett too, who could 
 only manage to limp a little, climbed up to the loft 
 soon after midday and lay down for a rest. 
 
 " Sir John and I, left alone downstairs, took what 
 we called a siesta, each in his chair and Sir John's 
 chair by the shaded window. For my part, I was 
 glad enough of forty winks, and could have enlisted 
 among the Seven Sleepers after those cruel four days 
 in the mountains. So, with Sir John's permission, 
 I dozed off; and sat up, by and by — awake all of a 
 sudden at the sound of my master's stirring — to see 
 him at the window with his gun half-lifted to his 
 shoulder, and away up the road a squad of Genoese 
 soldiers marching down to relieve guard. 
 
 " Witli that there came a yell from the loft over- 
 head. I sprang up, rubbing my eyes, and, between 
 
 403
 
 SIR eTOim CONSTANTINE 
 
 rubbing 'em, saw Sir John lower his gun and stand 
 back apace. The next instant — thud, thud! — over 
 the eaves upon the roadway dropped Fett and Bad- 
 cock, and picked themselves up as if to burst in 
 through the window. No good! A second later that 
 ram was on top of them. 
 
 " How he had contrived to climb up the ladder 
 and butt the pair over the roof, there's no telling. 
 But there he was; and, gathering up his legs from the 
 fall as quick as lightning, he headed them off from 
 the house and up the road. There was no violence. 
 So far as one could tell from the clouds of dust, he 
 never hurt 'em once, but through the dust we could 
 see the Genoese staring as he nursed the pair up the 
 road straight into their arms. The queer part of 
 it," wound up Billy reflectively, " was that, after the 
 first moment. Sir John had never the chance of a 
 shot. You may doubt me, gentlemen, but Sir John 
 is a shot in a thousand, and, what with the dust 
 and the confusion, there was never a chance without 
 risk to human life. The Genoese giving back, in less 
 than half a minute the road was clear." 
 
 " But what happened? " asked my uncle. 
 
 " Well, sir, this here Corsica being an island, it 
 follows that they must have stopped somewhere. 
 But where, there's no telling," 
 
 " You never saw them again." 
 
 404
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 "Never," said Billy solemnly; and, having asked 
 and received permission to light his pipe, resumed 
 the tale. 
 
 " — There being now no reason to loiter in Calen- 
 zana, we left the town next morning and rode along 
 the hill tracks to Muro, when again we struck a high- 
 road running northward to the coast. Sir John had 
 sold Mr. Badcock's mule to our good hosts in Ca- 
 lenzana, and here in Muro he parted with our pair 
 also, deeming it safer to travel the next stage on 
 foot; since by all accounts we were about to skirt 
 the Genoese cantonments scattered to the east of 
 Calvi; and although the Corsicans held and patrolled 
 the road, over which a train of waggons travelled 
 daily with material for the new town a-building on 
 the sea-shore, at Isola Rossa, yet there was risk that 
 a couple of riders faring along it without an escort 
 might be snapped up by the enemy. Also Sir John 
 had no mind to be stopped a dozen times and ques- 
 tioned by the Corsican patrols. We kept therefore 
 along the hills to the east of the road; and on our 
 way, having halted and slept a night in an olive 
 orchard about five miles from the coast, we woke 
 up a little after daylight to the sound of heavy guns 
 firing. 
 
 " The meaning of this was made plain to us as 
 we fetched our way round to the eastward and came 
 
 405
 
 SIR JOIIX CONSTANTINE 
 
 out at length upon the face of a steep hill that broke 
 away in steep cliffs to the very foreshore. There, 
 below us, lay a neat deep-water roadstead covered 
 to westward by a small island with a tower on it 
 and a battery. The shore ran out towards the island 
 and the two had been joined by a mole, or the mak- 
 ings of one, about thirty yards long; and well back 
 in the bight of the shore, where it curved towards 
 us, was a half-built town, all of new stone, with 
 scaffoldings standing everywhere, yet not a soul at 
 work on 'em. Out in the roadstead five small gun- 
 boats were tacking and blazing away, two at the 
 mole and three at the town itself; and the town and 
 the island blazing and banging back at the gun- 
 boats. We could not see the town battery, but the 
 island one mounted three guns, and Sir John's spy- 
 glass showed the people there running from one to 
 another like emmets. 
 
 " Sir John studied the boats and the town through 
 his glass for five minutes, and after them the in- 
 shore water and the beach on our side of the town, 
 that was of white sand with black rocks here and 
 there and ran down pretty steep as it neared the 
 foot of our hill. ' If those fellows had any sense — ' 
 he began to say, and with that, as if struck by a 
 sudden thought, he looked close around him, and 
 then at the edge of the cliff where it broke away 
 
 406
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 below us; and the next moment he was down on his 
 stomach and crawling to the brink for a look below. 
 I did the same, of course; and overtook him just 
 as he drew back his head, and gave a sort of whistle, 
 looking me in the face — as well he might; for right 
 beneath us lay a sixth gunboat and the crew of her 
 ashore already with a six-pounder and hoisting it 
 by a tackle to a slab of rock about fifty feet above 
 the water's edge. A neater spot they couldn't have 
 chosen, for it stood at an angle the town battery 
 couldn't answer to (which was plain, from its send- 
 ing no shot in this direction) and yet it raked the 
 whole town front as easy as ninepins. 
 
 " To make things a bit fairer, these Genoese gen- 
 try offered us as simple pretty a target as any man 
 could wish for; nothing to do but fire down on 'em 
 at forty yards, bob back and reload, with ne'er a 
 chance of their climbing up to do us a mischief or 
 even to count how many we were. I touched Sir 
 John's elbow and tapped my gun-stock, and for the 
 moment he seemed to think well of it. ' Cut the 
 tackle first,* said he, lifting his gun. ' 'Twill be as 
 good as hamstringing 'em': and for him the shot 
 would have been child's play. But after a second 
 or two he lowered his piece and drew back. ' Dam- 
 me,' said he, ' I'm losing my wits. Let 'em do their 
 work first, and we'll get gun and all. If only ' — and 
 
 407
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 here he looked nervous-like over his shoulder up the 
 hill — ' those fellows from the town don't hurry- 
 hither and spoil sport! ' 
 
 " I couldn't see his face, but I could feel that he 
 was chuckling as the fellows below us swung up the 
 gun and fixed it in position and handed up the round 
 shot. But when they followed up with two kegs 
 of powder and dumped 'em on to the platform, my 
 dear master's hand went up and he rubbed the back 
 of his head in pure delight. After that — as I 
 thought, for nothing but frolic — he even let 'em 
 load and train the gun for us, and only lifted his 
 musket when the gunner — a dark-faced fellow with 
 a red cap on his head — was act'lly walking up wnth 
 the match alight in his linstock. 
 
 " ' I don't want to hurt that man afore 'tis neces- 
 sary,' says Sir John; and with that he takes aim 
 and lets fly, and shears the linstock clean in two, 
 right in the fellow's hand. I saw the end of it — 
 match and all — fly half-way across the platform, 
 and popped back my head as the dozen Genoese 
 there turned their faces up at us. The pity was, we 
 hadn't time for a look at 'em! 
 
 " Sir John had warned me to hold my fire! But 
 neither he nor I was prepared for what happened 
 next. For first one of them let out a yell, and right 
 on top of it half a dozen were screaming ' Imboscaia! 
 
 ■108
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 imboscata! ' — and with that we heard a rush of feet 
 and, looking over, saw the last two or three scram- 
 bling for dear life oif the edge of the platform and 
 down the rocks to their boat. 
 
 " ^ Quick, Billy — quick! Damme, but we'll risk 
 it! ' cried Sir John, snatching up his spare gun. 
 ' If we make a mess of it,' says he, ' plug a bullet 
 into one of the powder kegs! Understand? ' says he. 
 
 " * Sakes alive, master!' says I. 'You bain't 
 a-going to clamber down that gizzy-dizzy place sure 
 'nuff! ' 
 
 " ' "Why, o' course I be,' says he, and already he 
 had his legs over and was lowering himself. * Turn 
 on your back, stick out your heels, and hold your gun 
 wide of you, so,^ says he; 'and you'll come to no 
 harm.' 
 
 " Well, as it happened, I didn't. Not for a hun- 
 dred pound would I go down that cliff again in cold 
 blood, and my stomach turns wambly in bed o' 
 nights when I dream, of it. But down it I went on 
 the flat of my back with my heels out, as Sir John 
 recommended, and with my eyes shut, about which 
 he'd said nothing. I felt my jacket go rip from tail 
 to collar — you can see the rent in it for yourselves 
 — and my shirt likewise, and what happened to the 
 seat of my breeches 'twould be a scandal to men- 
 tion. But in two shakes or less we were at the 
 
 409
 
 SIE JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 bottom of the cliff together safe and sound, and not 
 a moment too soon, neither: for as I picked myself 
 up I saw Sir John stagger across and catch up the 
 burning fuse that lay close alongside one of the 
 powder kegs. Whereby, although the danger was 
 no sooner seen than over, I pretty near turned sick 
 on the spot. 
 
 " But Sir John gave me no time. ' Hooray! ' he 
 sings out. ' Help me to slew this blessed gun round, 
 and we'll sink boat and all for 'em unless she slips 
 her moorings quick ! " 
 
 " Well, sir, that was the masterpiece. We heaved 
 and strained, and inside of two minutes we had it 
 trained upon the gunboat. The men that had quitted 
 the platform were down by the shore before this; 
 and a dozen had pushed their boat off and sat in her, 
 some pulling, others backing, and all jabbering and 
 disputing whether to return and take off the five or 
 six that stood in a huddle by the water's edge and 
 were crying out not to be left behind. And mean- 
 time on the gunboat some were shouting to 'em not 
 to be a pack of cowards — for the crew on board 
 could see us on the platform (which the others 
 couldn't) and that we were only two — and others 
 were running to cut her cable, seeing the gun trained 
 on 'em and not staying to think that the wind was 
 light and the current setting straight onshore. And 
 
 410
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 in tlic midst of this Sir John finds a fresh fuse, and 
 lights it from the old one, and bang! says we. 
 
 " It took her plump in the stern-works, knocking 
 her wheel and taffrail to flinders and ripping out a 
 fair six feet of her larboard bulwarks. This much 
 I saw while the smoke cleared; but Sir John was 
 already calling for the reload. The Genoese by good 
 luck had left a rammer; and the pair of us had 
 charged her and were pushing home sliot number 
 two as merry as crickets, when we heard a horn 
 blown on the hill above us, and at the same instant 
 spied a body of Corsicans on the beach below, march- 
 ing towards us from the town. 
 
 " Well, Sir John decided that we might just as 
 well have a second shot at the boat while our hand 
 was in; and so we did, but trained it too high in our 
 excitement and did no damage beyond knocking a 
 hole in her mainsail. And our ears hadn't lost the 
 noise of it before a man put his head over the cliff 
 above and spoke to us very politely in Corsican. 
 
 " He seemed to be asking the way down ; for Sir 
 John pointed to the way we had come. Whereby 
 he laughed and shook his head. And a dozen others 
 that had gathered beside him looked down too and 
 laughed and waved their hands to us. By and by 
 they went off, still waving, to look for a better way 
 down: but they took a good twenty minutes to reach 
 
 411
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 us, and before this the gunboat had drifted close 
 upon the rocks and no hope for it but to surrender 
 to the party marching along the beach and now close 
 at hand. 
 
 " Well, sirs, the upshot was that this party, which 
 had marched out for a forlorn hope, took the gun- 
 boat and her crew as easily as a man gathers mush- 
 rooms. And the rest of the boats, dispirited belike, 
 sheered off after another hour's banging and left the 
 roadstead in peace. But while this was happening 
 the party on the cliffs had worked their way down 
 to our rock by a sheep-track on the western side, 
 and the first man to salute us was the man who had 
 first spoken us from the top of the cliff: and this, 
 let me tell you, was no less a person than the Gen- 
 eral himself." 
 
 " The General? " exclaimed my uncle. 
 
 "The General Paoli, sir: a fresh-complexioned 
 man and fairer-skinned than any Corsican we had 
 met on our travels; tall, too, and upstanding; dressed 
 in green and gold with black spatterdashes and look- 
 ing at one with an eye like a hawk's. Compliments 
 fly when gentlefolk meet. Though as yet I didn't 
 know him from Adam, 'twas easy to mark him for 
 a person of quality by the way he lifted his hat and 
 bowed. Sir John bowed back, though more stiffly; 
 and the more compliments the General paid him, 
 
 412
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 the stiifer he grew and the shorter his answers, till 
 by and by he said in English ' I think you know a 
 little of my language, sir: enough, at any rate, to 
 take my meaning? ' 
 
 " The General bowed again at this, still keeping 
 his smile. ' You do not wish my men to overhear? 
 Yes, yes, I speak the English — a very little — and 
 can understand it, if you will be so good as to speak 
 slowly.' 
 
 " ' Very well then, sir,' said Sir John ; ' ii 1 and 
 my man here have been of some small service to 
 you to-day I count myself happy to have obliged so 
 noble a patriot as Signor Pascal Paoli.' And here 
 they both bowed again. ' But I must warn you, sir, 
 that my service here is due only to the Queen Emilia, 
 whom you also should serve, and whom I am sworn 
 to seek and save. The Genoese have shut her, I 
 believe, in Nonza, in Cape Corso.' 
 
 " The General frowned a bit at this, but in a mo- 
 ment smiled at him in an open way that was honest 
 too, as anv one could see. ' I have later news of 
 the Queen Emilia,' said he ; ' which is that the 
 Genoese have removed her to the island of Giraglia 
 off Cape Corso. I fear, sir, you will not lightly 
 reach her.' 
 
 " ' I will reach her or die,' said Sir John stoutly. 
 
 " The General glanced at the Genoese gunboats. 
 
 413
 
 SIR JOHN COXSTANTINE 
 
 ' At present it is hopeless/ said he ; ' but I tell you 
 frankly that in two months I hope to clear the sea 
 of those gentry yonder. Meantime, if you are deter- 
 mined to press on to Cape Corso, I'll beg you to 
 accept a pass from me which will save trouble if 
 you fall in, as you will, with my militia. You who 
 have done me so generous a service to-day will not 
 refuse so cheap a token of gratitude.' 
 
 " Those were the General's words, sirs, as I heard 
 them and got them by heart. And Sir John took 
 the pass from him scribbled there and then on the 
 fly-leaf of the General's pocket Bible — and put it 
 carefully between the leaves of his own: and so, 
 having led us back along the track by which he and 
 his men had come, the General pointed out our way 
 to us and bade us farewell in the Lord's name. He 
 saw that my master wanted no thanks, and a gentle- 
 man (as they say) would rather be unmannerly than 
 troublesome. 
 
 " That, sirs, is all my story, except that by the 
 help of the General's pass we made our way up the 
 long length of Cape Corso: and at first Sir John, 
 learning there were yet some Genoese left in a 
 valley they call Luri, pitched his camp at the head 
 of it, and day by day took out his camp-stool and 
 stalked the mountains till little by little he cleared 
 the valley, driving the enemy down to the marina in 
 
 414
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 terror of his sharp-shooting. After that we lodged 
 for a while in a tower on the top of a crag, where 
 (the country people said) a famous old Roman had 
 once lived out his exile. Last of all we moved to 
 the shore opposite the island of Giraglia; hut the 
 Genoese had hurnt the village which formerly stood 
 there. Among the ruins we camped, and day after 
 day my master conned the island across the strait, 
 waiting for the time when the Gauntlet should be 
 due. A tower stands in the island, which is but a 
 cliff of bare rock, and there must be deep water close 
 inshore, for once a Genoese vessel drew alongside 
 and landed stores: but, for the rest, day after day, 
 my master could see through his glass no sign of 
 life but a sentry or two on the platform above the 
 landing-quay. 
 
 " At last there came a day when, from a goatherd 
 who brought us meat and wine from the next paese, 
 we learned that a body of armed men, Corsicans, 
 had pushed up to Olmeta, near by ISTonza, to press 
 the Genoese garrison there. Sir John, sick of wait- 
 ing idle, proposed that we should travel back and 
 help them, if only to fill up the time. It would be 
 on our way, at any rate, to send word to the ketch, 
 which was near about due. So we travelled back to 
 Olmeta; and behold! we tumbled upon the Princess 
 and her men who had first taken us prisoners; and 
 
 415
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 the Princess's brother with her — and be dashed if I 
 like his looks! So Sir John told his tale, and the 
 Princess sent me along with Master Prosper's letter 
 of release. And here's a funny thing now ! " wound 
 up Billy, glancing at me. " The Prince w^as willing 
 enough your release should be sent, and even chose 
 out that fellow Stephanu to come along with me. 
 But something in his eye — I can't azackly describe it 
 — warned me he had a sort of reason for thinking 
 that 'twouldn't do you much good. There was a 
 priest, too: I took a notion that he didn't much ex- 
 pect to see you again, sir. And this kept me in a 
 sweat every mile of the journey, so that when you 
 pointed your gun at me yesterday, as natural as life, 
 you might have knocked me down with a feather." 
 
 " Then it is settled," decided my uncle as Billy 
 came to a full stop. " Sir John has gone north 
 again, you say, and will be expecting us off the 
 island? There's naught to prevent our starting this 
 evening? " 
 
 " Nothing at all," agreed Captain Pomery, to 
 whom by a glance he had appealed. " Leastways 
 and supposing I can get my hawsers out of curl- 
 papers." 
 
 " That suits you. Prosper? " asked my uncle. 
 
 I looked across the fire at Marc'antonio, who sat 
 with his eyes lowered upon the gun across his knees. 
 
 416
 
 OF MY FATHER'S ANABASIS 
 
 " Marc'antonio," said I, " my friends here are 
 proposing to sail northward to Cape Corso to-night. 
 They require me to sail with them. Am I free, think 
 you? " 
 
 " Beyond doubt, you are free, cavalier," answered 
 Marc'antonio, still without lifting his eyes. 
 
 " Now for my part," I said, " I am not so sure. 
 Suppose — look at me, please, my friend — suppose 
 that you and I were to go first to the Princess to- 
 gether and ask her leave?" 
 
 My uncle gazed up at Marc'antonio, who had 
 sprung to his feet; and — after a long look at his 
 face — from Marc'antonio to me. 
 
 " Prosper," he said quietly, " we shall sail to- 
 night. If we sail without you, will your father for- 
 give us? That is all I ask." 
 
 " Dear uncle," said I, " for the life of me I can- 
 not tell you; but that in my place he would do the 
 like, I am sure." 
 
 417
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE GREAT ADVENTURE 
 
 He that luvith a starre 
 
 To follow her, sinke or swym, 
 Hath never a feare how farre, 
 
 For the world it longith to hym: 
 For the road it longith to hym 
 
 And the fieldes that marcche beside — 
 Lift up thi herte, my maister then, 
 
 So mery to-morn we ride. — The Squyres Delyt. 
 
 So the Gauntlet sailed for the island of Giraglia; 
 and we two, having watched her for a while as she 
 stood out to make her offing, trod out our campfire 
 and turned our faces northward. Marc'antonio's 
 last action before starting was to unhobble the goats 
 and free the hogs from their wooden collars and 
 headpieces. As he finished ojDerating he turned 
 them loose one by one with a parting smack on the 
 buttocks, and they ran from us among the thickets, 
 where we heard their squeals change to grunts of 
 delight. 
 
 Brutes though they were, I could understand 
 their delight, having lived with them and in even 
 such thraldom as theirs. From my neck also it 
 
 418
 
 THE GREAT ADVENTURE 
 
 seemed that a heavy collar-weiglit fell loose and 
 slipped itself as, having passed Nat's grave in the 
 hollow, we left the pine-forest at our feet and wound 
 our way uj) among the granite pinnacles, upward, 
 still upward into the clear air. Aloft there, beyond 
 the pass, the kingdom of Corsica broke on our view, 
 laid out in wide prospect; the distant glittering peaks 
 of Monte d'Oro and Monte Rotondo, the forests 
 hitched on their shoulders like green mantles, the 
 creased vallevs leading down their rivers to the 
 shore; a magic kingdom ringed with a sea of iris 
 blue; a kingdom bequeathed to me. A few months 
 ago I had shouted with joy to possess it; to-day, with 
 more admiring eyes, I worshipped it for the lists 
 of my greater adventure; and surely Nat's spirit 
 marched with me to the air of his favourite song: 
 
 If doughty deeds my lady please, 
 Right soon I'll mount my steed; 
 
 And strong his arm and fast his seat 
 That bears frae me the meed . . . 
 
 But, in fact, it was not until the third morning 
 of our journey that Marc'antonio (who, like every 
 Corsican, abhorred walking) was able to purchase us 
 a steed apiece in the shape of two lean and shaggy 
 hill ponies. They belonged to a decayed gentleman 
 — of the best blood in the island, as he assured me — 
 
 419
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 whom poverty had driven with his family to inhabit 
 a shepherd's hut above the Restorica on the flank 
 of Monte Rotondo where it looks towards Corte. 
 We had slept the night under his roof, and I remem- 
 ber that I was awakened next morning on my bed 
 of dry fern by the small chatter of the children, 
 themselves awaking one by one as the daylight broke. 
 After breakfast our host led us down to the pasture 
 where the ponies were tethered; and when he and 
 Marc'antonio had haggled for twenty minutes, and 
 I was in the act of mounting, three of the children, 
 aged from five downwards, came toddling with 
 bunches of a blue flower unknown to me, but much 
 like a gentian, which they had gathered on the edge 
 of the tumbling Restorica, some way up-stream. I 
 took my bunch and pinned it on my hat as I rode, 
 hailing the omen: 
 
 For you alone I ride the ring, 
 For you I wear the blue . . . 
 
 And — how went the chorus? 
 
 Then tell me how to woo thee, love; 
 
 O tell me how to woo thee! 
 For thv dear sake nae care I'll take 
 
 The only care taken by Marc'antonio was to fol- 
 low the bridle-tracks winding among the foothills, 
 
 420
 
 THE GREAT ADVEXTURE 
 
 and give a wide berth to the high-road running north 
 and south through Corte, especially to the bridges 
 crossing the Golo River, at each of which, he assured 
 me, we should find a guard posted of Paoli's militia. 
 Luckily, he knew all the fords, and in the hill-vil- 
 lages off the road the inhabitants showed no sus- 
 picion of us, but took it for granted that we were 
 the good Paolists we passed for. Marc'antonio an- 
 swered all their guileless questions by giving out that 
 we were two roving commissioners travelling north- 
 ward to delimit certain pieve in the Xebbio, at the 
 foot of Cape Corso — an explanation which secured 
 for us the best of victuals as well as the highest 
 respect. 
 
 For a while our course, bending roughly parallel 
 with the Golo, led us almost due east, and at length 
 brought us out upon the flat shore of the Tuscan 
 Sea. Here the mountains, which had confined us to 
 the river valley, run northward with a sharp twist, 
 and, turning with them, we rode once more with our 
 faces set towards our destination, keeping the tall 
 range on our left hand, and on our right the melan- 
 choly sea-marshes where men cannot dwell for the 
 malaria, and where for hour after hour we rode in 
 a silence unbroken save by the plash of fish in the 
 lagoon or the cry of a heron solitary among the 
 reeds. This desolation lasted all the way to Bigu- 
 
 421
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 glia, where we turned aside again among the foothills 
 to avoid the fortress of Bastia and the traffic of the 
 roads about it. Bevond Bastia we were safe in the 
 fastnesses of Cape Corso, across which, from this 
 eastern shore to the western, and to the camp at 
 Olmeta, one only pass (so Marc'antonio informed 
 me) was practicable. I gnessed we were nearing it 
 when he began to mutter to himself in the intervals 
 of scanning the crags high on our left; for this was 
 to him, he confessed, an almost unkno\vn country. 
 But the gap, when we came abreast of it, could 
 scarcely be mistaken. With a glance around, as 
 though to take our bearings, he abruptly headed off 
 for it, and, having climbed the first slope, reined up 
 and sat for a moment, rigid in his saddle as a statue, 
 listening. 
 
 The sun had sunk behind the range, and the 
 herbage at our feet lay in a bronze shadow; but 
 light still bathed the sea behind us, and over it a 
 company of gulls kept flashing and wheeling and 
 clamouring. While I listened, following Marc'an- 
 tonio's example, it seemed to me that an echo from 
 the summit directly above us took up the gulls' cry 
 and repeated it, prolonging the note. Marc'antonio 
 lifted and waved a hand. 
 
 " That will be Stephanu," he announced; and 
 sure enough, before we had pushed a couple of fur- 
 
 422
 
 THE GREAT ADVENTURE 
 
 longs up the slope, we caiiglit sight of Stephanu de- 
 scending a steep scree to meet us. 
 
 lie and Marc'antonio nodded salutation brusquely, 
 as though they had parted but a few hours ago. 
 Marc'antonio, though relieved to see him, wore a 
 judicial frown. 
 
 "What of the Princess, O Stephanu?" he de- 
 manded. 
 
 " The Princess is well enough for aught I know," 
 answered Stephanu, with a glance at me. 
 
 " You can speak before the cavalier. He knows 
 not everything until we tell him; but he is one of 
 us, and that I will engage." 
 
 Stephanu shrugged his shoulders. " The Princess 
 is well enough for aught. I know," he repeated. 
 
 " But what fool's talk is this? The Prince packed 
 you off, meaning mischief of some kind — what mis- 
 chief you, being on the spot, should have been able 
 to guess." 
 
 " It is God's truth, then, that I could not," Ste- 
 phanu admitted sullenly; " and what is more, neither 
 could you in my place have made a guess — no, not 
 with all your wisdom." 
 
 "But you travelled back with all speed? You 
 liave seen her? " 
 
 " I travelled back with all speed." Stephanu re- 
 peated the words as a child repeats a lesson, but 
 
 423
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 whether ironically or not his face did not tell. " Also 
 I have seen her. And that is the devil of it." 
 
 "Will you explain?" 
 
 " She will have nothing to do with me; nor with 
 you. I told her that you would be upon the road 
 and following close after me. Naturally I said 
 nothing of the cavalier here, for I knew noth- 
 ing " 
 
 " Did she ask? " I inquired. 
 
 Stephanu appeared to search his memory. " Now 
 I come to think of it she did let fall a word. . . . 
 But I for my part supposed you to be dead; and, by 
 the way, Signore, you will accept my compliments on 
 your recovery." 
 
 Marc'antonio's frown had deepened. " You mean 
 to tell me, Stephanu," he persisted, " that the Prin- 
 cess will have none of us? " 
 
 " She bade me go my ways, and not come near 
 her; which was cold welcome for a man after a nine 
 days' sweat. She added that if I or Marc'antonio 
 came spying upon her or in any way interfering 
 until she sent for us, she would appeal to her brother 
 against us." 
 
 " Was the Prince present when she said this? " 
 
 " He was not. He was away hunting, she said, in 
 the direction of Nonza; but in fact he must have 
 gone reconnoitring, for he had left the camp all but 
 
 424
 
 THE GREAT ADVENTURE 
 
 empty — no one at home but Andrea and Jacopo 
 Galloni, whose turn it was with the cooking — these 
 and the Princess. But the Prince has returned since 
 then, for I heard his horn as I crossed the pass." 
 
 Stephanu, as we moved forward, kept alongside 
 Marc'antonio's bridle, or as nearly alongside as the 
 narrow track allowed. I, bringing up the rear, 
 could not see the trouble in Marc'antonio's face, but 
 I heard it in his voice as he put question after ques- 
 tion. "The Princess was not a prisoner?" "No; 
 nor under any constraint that Stephanu could detect. 
 She had her gun; was in fact cleaning and oiling 
 its lock very leisurably when he had walked into 
 camp. He had found her there, seated on a rock, 
 with Andrea and Jacopo Galloni at a little distance 
 below preparing the meal and taking no notice of 
 her. In fact they could not see her, because the 
 rock overhung them." 
 
 " She must have been sitting there for sentry. At 
 any rate there was no other guard set on the camp. 
 Well, if so, she took it easily enough; but, catching 
 sight of me, she stood up, put her finger to her lip 
 and pointed over the ledge. Thereupon I peered 
 over, but drew back my head before Andrea and 
 Jacopo could spy me. So I stood before her, ex- 
 pecting to be praised for the despatch I had made 
 on the road; but she praised me not. She motioned 
 
 425
 
 SIR JOHN COJTSTANTINE 
 
 me to follow her a little way out of earshot of the 
 men below, to a patch of tall-growing junipers within 
 which, when first we pitched camp, she had chosen 
 to make her bower. Then she turned on me, and 
 I saw that in some way I had vexed her, for her 
 eyes were wrathful; and, said she, 'Why have you 
 made this speed? ' ' Because, O Princess, you have 
 need of me,' I answered. ' I have no need of you,' 
 she said. ' Where is Marc'antonio? And the young 
 Englishman — is he yet alive?' ' O Princess,' I an- 
 swered again, ' I did not go all the way to the old 
 camp, but only so far that the man Priske could 
 not mistake his road to it. Then, having put him in 
 the way, I turned back and have travelled night and 
 day. Of the young Englishman I can tell you noth- 
 ing; but of Marc'antonio I can promise that he will 
 be on the road and not far behind me.' " 
 
 ^^ Grazie/' muttered Marc'antonio; "but how 
 could yoLi be sure I had received the message? " 
 
 " Because the Princess had charged you to be at 
 that post until released. Therefore I knew you 
 would not have quitted it, if alive; and if you were 
 dead — " Stephanu shrugged his shoulders. " I was 
 in a hurry, you understand; and in a hurry a man 
 must take a few risks." 
 
 " I am not saying you did ill," growled Marc'an- 
 tonio, slightly mollified. 
 
 426
 
 THE GREAT ADVENTURE 
 
 " The Princess said so, however. ' You are a fool, 
 O Stephanii,' she told me ; ' and as for needing you 
 or Marc'antonio, on the contrary I forbid you both 
 to join the camp for a while. Go back. If you 
 meet Marc'antonio upon the road, give him this mes- 
 sage for me.' ' But where, O Princess,' I asked, 
 'are we to await your pleasure?' 'Fare north, if 
 you will, to Cape Corso,' she said, ' where that old 
 mad Englishman boasts that he will reach my 
 mother in her prison at Giraglia. He has gone 
 thither alone, refusing help; and you may perhaps 
 be useful to him.' " 
 
 Marc'antonio's growl grew deeper. " Was that 
 all?" he asked. 
 
 " That was all." 
 
 " Then there is mischief here. The Prince, O 
 Stephanu, did not without purpose send you out of 
 the way. Now whatever he purposed he must have 
 meant to do quickly, before we two should return 
 to the camp " 
 
 " He had mischief in his heart, I will swear," as- 
 sented Stephanu, after a glance at me and another 
 at Marc'antonio, who reassured him with a nod. 
 " And that the Princess plainly guessed, by her man- 
 ner at parting, when I set out with the man Priske. 
 She was sorry enough then to say good-bye to me," 
 he added, half-boastfully. 
 
 •427
 
 SIE JOHX COXSTANTINE 
 
 " Nevertheless," answered Marc'antonio with 
 some sarcasm, " she appears to have neglected to 
 confide to you what she feared." 
 
 Stephanu spread out his hands. " The Prince, 
 and the reverend Father — who can tell what passes 
 in their minds? " 
 
 " ISTot you, at any rate ! Very well then : — the 
 Princess was apprehensive. . . . Yet now, when 
 the mischief (whatever it is) should either be done 
 or on the point of doing, she will have none of our 
 help. Clearly she knows more, yet will have none 
 of our help. That is altogether puzzling to me. 
 . . . And she sends us north. . . . Very well again; 
 we will go north, but not far! " 
 
 He glanced back at me over his shoulder. I read 
 his meaning — that he wished to plan his campaign 
 privately with Stephanu — and, reining in my pony, 
 I fell back out of earshot. 
 
 The pass above us stood perhaps three thousand 
 feet above the shore and the high-road we had left; 
 and the track, when it reached the steeper slopes, 
 ran in long zigzagging terraces at the angles of 
 which our ponies had sometimes to scramble up 
 stairways cut in the living rock. As the sun sank 
 a light mist gradually spread over the coast below 
 us, the distant islands grew dim, and we rode sus- 
 pended, as it were, over a bottomless vale and a sea 
 
 428
 
 THE GKEAT ADVEXTUKE 
 
 without horizon. Slowly, out of these ghostly 
 wastes, the moon lifted herself in full circle, and her 
 rays, crossing the cope of heaven, lit up a tall grey 
 crag on the ridge above us, and the stem of a white- 
 withered or blasted bush hanging from it — an iso- 
 lated mass which (my companions told me) marked 
 the summit of the ascent. 
 
 " The path leads round the base of it," said Ste- 
 phanu. " "VVe shall reach it in another twenty 
 minutes." 
 
 " But will it not be guarded? " I asked. 
 
 He hunched his shoulders. " The Prince is no 
 general. A hundred times our enemies might have 
 destroyed us; but they prefer to leave us alone. It 
 is more humiliating." 
 
 Marc'antonio rode forward deep in thought, his 
 chin sunk upon his breast. At the summit, under 
 the shadow of the great rock, he reined up, and, 
 slewing himself about in his saddle, addressed Ste- 
 phanu again. 
 
 " As I remember, there is a track below which 
 branches off to the right, towards I^onza. It will 
 take us wide of Olmeta and we can strike down into 
 the lowland somewhere between the two. The Prin- 
 cess commands us to make for the north; so we 
 shall be obeying her, and at the same time we can 
 bivouac close enough to take stock at sunrise and, 
 
 429
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 maybe, learn some news of the camp — yet not so 
 close that our horses can be heard, if by chance one 
 should whmny." 
 
 " As to that you may rest easy," Stephanu as- 
 sured him. " It is known that many of the farms 
 below keep ponies in stable." 
 
 From the pass we looked straight down upon an- 
 other sea, starlit and dimly discernible, and upon 
 slopes and mountain spurs descending into dense 
 woodland over which, along the bluffs of the ridge, 
 the lights of a few lonely hill-farms twinkled. Ste- 
 phanu found for us the track of which Marc'antonio 
 had spoken, and although on this side of the range 
 the shadows of the crags made an almost total dark- 
 ness, our ponies took us down at a fair pace. After 
 thirty, or it may be forty, minutes of this jolting 
 and (to me) entirely haphazard progress, Marc'an- 
 tonio again reined up, on the edge of a mountain 
 stream which roared across our path so loudly as 
 to drown his instructions. But at a sign from him 
 Stephanu stepped back and took my bridle, and 
 within a couple of minutes I felt that my pony's feet 
 were treading good turf and, at a cry from my guide, 
 ducked my head to avoid the boughs as we threaded 
 our way down through an orchard of stalwart olives. 
 
 The slope grew gentler as we descended, and 
 eased almost to a level on the verge of a high-road 
 
 430
 
 THE GREAT ADVENTURE 
 
 running north and south under the glimmer of the 
 moon — or rather of the pale light heralding the 
 moon's advent. Marc'antonio looked about him and 
 climbed heavily from his saddle. He had been rid- 
 ing since dawn. 
 
 I followed his example, though with difficulty — 
 so stiff were my limbs; picketed my pony; and, hav- 
 ing unstrapped the blanket from my saddle-bow, 
 wrapped it about me and stretched myself on the 
 thin turf to munch the crust Marc'antonio proffered 
 me — for he carried our common viaticum. 
 
 " Never grudge a hard day's work when 'tis over," 
 said he as he passed me the wine-skin. " Yonder 
 side of the mountain breeds malaria even in winter, 
 but on this side a man may sleep and rise fit for a 
 bellyful." 
 
 He offered, very politely, to share his blanket with 
 Stephanu, but Stephanu declined. Those two might 
 share one loyalty and together take counsel for it, 
 but between them as men there could be no liking 
 nor acceptance of favours, 
 
 I lay listening for a while to the mutter of their 
 voices as they talked there together under the olives ; 
 but not for long. The few words and exclamations 
 that reached me carried no meaning. In truth 
 I was worn out. Very soon the chatter of the 
 stream, deep among the trees — the stream which we 
 
 431
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 had just now avoided — mixed itself up with 
 talk, and I slept. 
 
 their 
 
 Of a sudden I started up — sat up erect. I had 
 been dreaming, and in my dream I had seen two 
 figures pass along the road beyond the fringe of the 
 trees. They had passed warily, yet hurriedly, across 
 the patch of it now showing white between the olive- 
 trunks, under the risen moon. Yet how could this 
 have happened if I had dreamed it merely? For the 
 moon, when I fell asleep, had not surmounted the 
 ridge behind me, and that patch of road, now show- 
 ing so white and clear, had been dim, if not quite 
 invisible. Yet I could be sworn that two figures 
 had passed up the road . . . two men . . . 
 
 Marc'antonio and Stephanu? — reconnoitring per- 
 haps? I rubbed my eyes. No: Marc'antonio and 
 Stephanu lay a few paces away, stretched in pro- 
 found sleep under the moonlight drifting between 
 the olive-boughs; and yonder, past the fringe of the 
 orchard, shone the patch of white high-road. Two 
 figures, half a minute since, had passed along it. I 
 could be sworn to it, even while reason insisted that 
 I had been dreaming. 
 
 I flung off my rug, and, stepping softly to the 
 verge of the orchard's shadow, peered out upon the 
 road. To my right — that is to say, northward — it 
 
 432
 
 THE GREAT ADVENTURE 
 
 stretched away level and visibly deserted so far as 
 the bend, little more than a gunshot distant, where 
 it curved around the base of a low cliff and disap- 
 peared. A few paces on this side of the cliff glim- 
 mered the rail of a footbridge, and to this spot my 
 ears traced the sound of running water which had 
 been singing through my dreams — the same stream 
 which had turned us aside to seek our bivouac. Not 
 even yet could I believe that my two wayfarers had 
 been phantoms merely. I had given them two min- 
 utes' start at least, and by this time they might easily 
 have passed the bend. Threading my way swiftly 
 between the boles of the olive-trees, I skirted the 
 road to the edge of the stream and stood for a mo- 
 ment at pause before stepping out upon the foot- 
 bridge and into the moonlight. 
 
 The water at my feet, scarcely seen through the 
 dark ferns, ran swift and without noise as through 
 a trough channelled in the living rock; but it 
 brought its impetus from a cascade aloft somewhere 
 in the darkness and humming with a low, continuous 
 thunder as of a mill with a turning wheel. I lifted 
 my head to the sound, and in that instant my ears 
 caught a slight creak from the footbridge on my 
 left. I turned, and stood rigid, at gaze. A woman 
 was stepping across the bridge, there in the moon- 
 light; a slight figure, cloaked and hooded and hurry- 
 
 433
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTIXE 
 
 ing fast; a woman, with a gun slung behind her and 
 the barrel of it glimmering. It was the Princess. 
 
 I let her pass, and as she turned the bend of the 
 road I stole out to the footbridge and across it in 
 pursuit. I knew now that the two wayfarers had 
 not been phantoms of my dreaming; that she was 
 following, tracking them, and that I must track and 
 follow her. Bevond the bend the road twisted over 
 a low-lying spur of the mountain between outcrops 
 of reddish-coloured rock, and then ran straight for 
 almost three hundred yards, with olive-orchards on 
 either hand; so that presently I could follow and 
 hold her in sight, myself keeping well within the 
 trees' line of shadow. 
 
 Twice she turned to look behind her, but rapidly 
 and as if in no great apprehension of pursuit; or 
 perhaps her own quest had made her reckless. At 
 the end of this straight and almost level stretch the 
 road rose steeply to wind over another foot-hill, and 
 here she broke into a run. I pressed after her up 
 the ascent, and from the knap of it, with a shock, 
 found myself looking down at close hand upon a 
 small bay of the sea with a white edge of foam 
 curving away into a loom of shore above which a 
 solitary light twinkled. The road, following the 
 curve of the shore a few paces above the waves, lay 
 bare in the moonlight, without cover to right or 
 left, until, a mile away perhaps, it melted into the 
 
 434
 
 THE GREAT ADVEXTURE 
 
 grey of night. Along that distance my eyes sought 
 and sought in vain for the figure that had been run- 
 ning scarcely two hundred yards ahead of me. The 
 Princess had disappeared. 
 
 For a short while I stood utterly at fault; but, 
 searching the bushes on my left, I was aware of a 
 parting between them, overgrown indeed, yet plainly 
 indicating a track; along which I had pushed but 
 two-score of paces — perhaps less — before a light 
 glimmered between the greenery and I stepped into 
 an open clearing in full view of a cottage, the light 
 of which fell obliquely across the turf through a 
 warped or cracked window-shutter. 
 
 *' Camillo ! " — it was the Princess's voice, half im- 
 perious, half pleading; and from beyond the angle 
 of the cottage wall came the noise of a latch shaken. 
 " Open to me, Camillo, or by the Mother of Christ 
 I will blow the door in! I have a gun, Camillo, and 
 I swear to you! " 
 
 The challenge was not answered. Crouching al- 
 most on all fours, I sprang across the ray of light 
 and gained the wall's shadow. There, as I drew 
 breath, I heard the latch shaken again, more im- 
 patiently. 
 
 "Camillo!" 
 
 The bolt was drawn. Peering around the angle 
 of the wall, I saw the light fall full on her face as 
 the door opened, and she stepped into the cottage. 
 
 435
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 OKDEAL AND CHOOSING 
 
 Thou coward! Yet 
 Art living? canst not, wilt not find the road 
 To the great palace of magnificent death? — 
 Though thousand ways lead to his thousand doors 
 Which day and night are still unbarr'd for all. 
 
 — Nat. Lee, (Edipus. 
 
 " !N^o man " — I am quoting my father — " can be 
 great, or even wise, or even, properly speaking, a 
 man at all, until he has burnt his boats"; but I 
 imagine that those who achieve wisdom and great- 
 ness burn their boats deliberately and not — as did I, 
 next moment — upon a sudden, wild impulse. 
 
 My excuse is, the door was already closing behind 
 the Princess. I loiew she had tracked the Prince 
 Camillo and his confessor, and that these two were 
 within the cottage. I knew nothing of their busi- 
 ness, save that it must be shameful, since she who 
 had detected and would prevent it chose to hide her 
 knowledge even from Marc'antonio and Stephanu. 
 Then much rather (you may urge) would she choose 
 to hide it from me. The objection is a sound one, 
 
 436
 
 ORDEAL AND CHOOSIXG 
 
 had I paused to consider it; but (fortunately or un- 
 fortunately, as you may determine) I did not. She 
 had stepped into peril. The door was closing behind 
 her: in another couple of seconds it would be bolted 
 again. I sprang for it, hurled myself in through the 
 entry, and there, pulling myself erect, stared about 
 me. 
 
 Four faces returned my stare; four faces, and all 
 dismayed as though a live bombshell had dropped 
 through the doorway. To the priest, whom my im- 
 pact had flung aside against the wall, I paid no at- 
 tention. My eyes fastened themselves on the table 
 at which, with a lantern and some scattered papers 
 between them, sat two men — the Prince, and a grey- 
 haired oiBcer in the blue-and-white Genoese uni- 
 form. The Prince, who had pushed back his chair 
 and confronted his sister with hands stretched out 
 to cover or to gather up the papers on the table, 
 slewed round upon me a face that, as it turned, 
 slowly stiffened with terror. The Genoese officer 
 rose with one hand resting on the table, while with 
 the other he fumbled at a silver chain hanging across 
 his breast, and as he shot a glance at the Prince I 
 could almost see his lips forming the word " treach- 
 ery." The Princess's consternation was of all 
 the most absolute. " The croirn ! yVhere is the 
 crowti? " — as I broke in, her voice, half imperious, 
 
 437
 
 siE joh:^ constantine 
 
 half supplicatory, had panted out these words, while 
 with outstretched hand and forefinger she pointed 
 at the table. Her hand still pointed there, rigid as 
 the rest of her body, as with dilated eyes she stared 
 into mine. 
 
 " Yes, gentlemen," said I in the easiest tone I 
 could manage, " the Princess asks you a question, 
 which allow me to repeat. Where is the crown? " 
 
 " In the devil's name — " gasped the Prince. 
 
 The Genoese interrupted him. " Shut and bolt 
 the door," he commanded the priest, sharply, with 
 a nod. 
 
 " Master Domenico," said I, " if you move so 
 much as a step, I will shoot you through the body." 
 
 The Genoese tugged at the chain on his breast 
 and drew forth a whistle. " Signore," he said quietly 
 and with another side glance at the Prince, '* I do 
 not know your name, but mine is Andrea Fornari, 
 and I command the Genoese garrison at Xonza. 
 Having some inherited knowledge of the Corsicans, 
 and some fifty years' experience of my own, I do 
 not walk into traps. A dozen men of mine stand 
 within call here, at the back entrance, and my 
 whistle will call me up another fifty. Bearing this 
 in mind, you will state your business here as peace- 
 ably as possible." 
 
 " Kevertheless," said I, " since I have taken a 
 
 438
 
 ORDEAL AND CnOOSING 
 
 fancy — call it a whim, if you will — that the door 
 remains at least unbolted . . ." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. " It will help you 
 nothing." 
 
 " I am an Englishman," said I. 
 
 " Indeed? Well, I have heard before now that it 
 will explain anything and everything; but my poor 
 understanding scarcely stretches it as yet to cover 
 your presence here." 
 
 " Faith, sir," I answered, " to put the matter 
 briefly, I am here because the Princess is here, whom 
 I have followed — though without her knowledge — 
 because I guessed her to be walking into peril." 
 
 " Excuse me. Without her knowledge, you say? " 
 The Commandant turned to the Princess, who bowed 
 her head but continued to gaze at me from under 
 her lowered brows. 
 
 " Absolutely, sir." 
 
 " And without knowledge of her errand ? Again 
 excuse me, but does it not occur to you that you 
 may be intruding at this moment upon a family 
 affair? " 
 
 Here the Prince broke in with a scornful laugh. 
 For a minute or so his brow had been clearing, but, 
 though he sneered, he could not as yet meet his 
 sister's eye. I noted this as his laugh drew my gaze 
 upon him, and it seemed that my contempt gave me 
 
 439
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 a sudden clear insight; for I found myself answer- 
 ing the Commandant very deliberately: 
 
 " The Princess, sir, until a moment ago, perhaps 
 knew not whether I was alive or dead, and certainly 
 knew not that I was within a hundred miles of this 
 place. Had she known it, she would as certainly 
 not have confided her errand to me, mixed up as it is 
 with her brother's shame. She would, I dare rather 
 wager, have taken great pains to hide it from me. 
 And yet I will not pretend that I am quite ig- 
 norant of it, as neither will I allow — family affair 
 though it be — that I have no interest in it, seeing 
 that it concerns the crown of Corsica." 
 
 The Commandant glanced at the Prince, then at 
 the priest, who stood passive, listening, with his back 
 to the wall, his loose-lidded eyes studying me from 
 the lantern's penumbra. 
 
 " What possible interest — " began the Comman- 
 dant. 
 
 " By the crown of Corsica," I interrupted, " I 
 mean the material crown of the late King Theodore, 
 at this moment concealed (if I mistake not) some- 
 where in this cottage. In it I may claim a certain 
 interest, seeing that I brought it from England to 
 this island, and that the Prince Camillo here — 
 whose father gave it to me — is trading it to you by 
 fraud. Yes, messere, he may claim that it belongs 
 
 440
 
 ORDEAL AND CIIOOSING 
 
 to him ])\ right; but he obtained it from me by 
 fraud, as neither he nor his sister can deny. This 
 perhaps might pass, but when he — he a son of Cor- 
 sica — goes on to sell it to Genoa, I reassert my 
 claim." 
 
 Again the Commandant shrugged his shoulders. 
 It consoled me to note that his glance at the Prince 
 was by no means an admiring one. 
 
 " I am a soldier," he said curtly. " I do not deal 
 in sentiment; nor is it my business, when a bargain 
 comes to me — a bargain in which I can serve my 
 country — to inquire into how's and why's." 
 
 " I grant that, sir," said I. " It is your business, 
 now that the crown — with what small profit may go 
 with it — lies in your grasp, to grasp it for Genoa. 
 But as a soldier and a brave man, you understand that 
 now you must grasp it by force. God knows in what 
 hope, if in any, the Princess here tracked out your 
 plot; but at least she can compel you — I can com- 
 pel you — we two, weak as we are, can compel you — 
 to use force. The honour of a race — and that a royal 
 one — shall at least not pass to you on the mere 
 signature of that coward sitting there." I swung 
 round upon the Prince. " You may give up trying 
 to hide those i)apers, sir, since every one in this room 
 knows what compact you were in the act of signing." 
 
 The Princess stepped forward. " All this," she 
 
 441
 
 SIR JOim CONSTANTINE 
 
 said to me in a low, bard voice, " I could have done 
 without help of you." Her tone promised that she 
 would never forgive, but she looked only at her 
 brother. " Camillo," she said, standing before him, 
 " this Englishman has said only what I came to say. 
 It is not my fault that he is here and has guessed. 
 When I was sure, I hid my knowledge even from 
 Marc'antonio and Stephanu; and he — he shall die 
 for having overheard. The Genoese will see to that, 
 and the Commandant, as he is a gentleman, will 
 write in his report that he took the crown from us, 
 having caught us at unawares. ... I cannot shoot 
 you, my brother. Even you would not ask this of 
 me — of me that have served you, and that serve you 
 now in the end. . . . See, I make no reproaches. 
 . . . We were badly brought up, we two, and when 
 you were young and helpless, vile men took hold on 
 you and taught you to be capable of — of this thing. 
 But we are Colonne, we two, and can end as 
 Colonne." She dipped a hand within the bosom of 
 her bodice and drew out a phial. " Dear, I will 
 drink after you. It will not be hard; no, believe me, 
 it will not be so very hard — a moment, a pang per- 
 haps, and everything will yet be saved. O brother, 
 what is a pang, a moment, that you can weigh it 
 against a lifetime of dishonour! " 
 The Prince sprang up cursing. 
 
 442
 
 ORDEAL AND CHOOSING 
 
 " Dishonour? And who are you that talk to me 
 of dishonour? — you that come straying here out of 
 the night with your cicisheo at your heels? You, 
 with the dew on you and your dress bedraggled, 
 come straight from companioning in the woods and 
 prate to me of shame — of the blood of the Colonne! " 
 He smote a hand on the table and spat forth a 
 string of vile names upon her, mixed with curses; 
 abominable words before which she drew back 
 cowering, yet less (I think) from the lash of them 
 than from shock and horror of his incredible base- 
 ness. Passion twisted his mouth, his tongue stam- 
 mered with the gush of his abuse; but he was lying, 
 and knew that he was lying, for his eyes would meet 
 neither hers nor mine. Only after drawing breath 
 did he for a moment look straight at her, and then 
 it was to demand: "And who, pray, has driven me 
 to this? What has made Corsica so bitter to me 
 that in weariness I am here to resign it? You, my 
 sister — you, and what is known of you. . . . Why 
 can I do nothing with the patriots ? Why were there 
 no recruits? Why, when I negotiated, did the Pao- 
 lists listen as to a child and smile politely and show 
 me their doors? Again, because of you, O my sister! 
 — because there is not a household in Corsica but has 
 heard whisperings of you, and of Brussels, and of 
 the house in Brussels where you were sought and 
 
 443
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 found. Blood of the Colonne! — and now the blood 
 of the Colonne takes an English lover to warm it! 
 Blood of " 
 
 With one hand I caught him by the throat, with 
 the other by the girdle, and flung him clean across 
 the table into the corner, oversetting the lantern, 
 but not extinguishing the light, for the Commandant 
 caught it up deftly. As he set it back on the table I 
 heard him grunt, and — it seemed to me — with ap- 
 proval. 
 
 " I will allow no shooting, sir," said he, quickly, 
 yet with easy authority, noting my hand go down to 
 my gun-stock. 
 
 " You misunderstand me," I answered, and in- 
 deed I was but shifting its balance on my bandolier, 
 which had slipped awry in the struggle. " There are 
 reasons why I cannot kill this man. But you will 
 give me leave to answer just two of his slanders upon 
 this lady. It is false that I came here to-night by 
 her invitation or in her company, as it is God's truth 
 that for many months until we met in this room and 
 in your presence she has not set eyes on me. She 
 could not have known even that I lived since the 
 hour when her brother there — yes. Princess, your 
 brother there — left me broken and maimed at the 
 far end of the island. For the rest he utters slan- 
 ders to which I have no clue save that 1 know them 
 
 444
 
 ORDEAL AND CHOOSING 
 
 to be slanders. But at a venture, if you would know 
 how they grew and who nurtured them, I think the 
 priest yonder can tell you." 
 
 The Commandant waved a hand politely. " You 
 have spoken well, sir. Believe me, on this pomt no 
 more is necessary. I have no doubt — there can be 
 no doubt — that the Prince lies under a misapprehen- 
 sion. Nevertheless, there are circumstances which 
 bind me to oblige him " — he paused — " and you 
 will admit that you have placed the lady — thought- 
 lessly no doubt — in a delicate situation." 
 
 " Well and good, sir," I replied. " If, in your 
 opinion as a man of honour, the error demands a 
 victim, by all means call in your soldiers and settle 
 me. I stipulate only that you escort the lady back 
 to her people with honour under a flag of truce; and 
 I protest only, as she has protested, that this traitor 
 has no warrant to sell vou his countrv's rights." 
 
 The Prince had picked himself up, and stood 
 sulkily, still in his corner. I suppose that he was 
 going to answer this denunciation, when the priest's 
 voice broke in, smooth and unctuous. 
 
 " Pardon me, messeri, but there occurs to me a 
 more excellent way. This Englishman has brought 
 dishonour on one of the Colonne: therefore it is 
 most necessary that he should die. But before dying 
 let him make the only reparation — and marry her." 
 
 445
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 I turned on him, staring: and in the flicker of his 
 eyes as he lifted them for one instant towards his 
 master, I read the whole devilish cunning of the 
 plot. They might securely let her go, as an English- 
 man's widow. The fact had merely to be pro- 
 claimed and the islanders would have none of her. 
 I am glad to remember that — my brain keeping 
 clear, albeit my pulse, already fast enough, leapt 
 hotly and quickened its speed — I had presence of 
 mind to admire the suggestion coolly, impersonally, 
 and quite as though it aifected me no jot. 
 
 The Commandant bent his brows. Behind them 
 — as it seemed to me — I could read his thought 
 working. 
 
 " If you, sir, have no objection," he said slowly, 
 looking up and addressing me with grave politeness, 
 " I see much to be said for the reverend father's 
 proposal." 
 
 He turned to the Prince, who — cur that he was — 
 directed his spiteful glee upon his sister. 
 
 " It appears, O Camilla, that in our race to save 
 each other's honour I am to be winner. Nay, you 
 may wear your approaching widowhood with dig- 
 nity, and boast in time to come that your husband 
 once bore the crown of Corsica." 
 
 " Prince Camillo," said the Commandant quietly, 
 
 I am here to-night in the strict service of my Re- 
 
 446 
 
 a
 
 ORDEAL AND CHOOSING 
 
 public, to do my best for her: but I warn you that 
 if you a second time address your sister in that tone 
 I shall reserve the right to remember it later as a 
 plain Genoese gentleman. Sir," he faced about and 
 addressed me again, " am I to understand that you 
 accept? " 
 
 I looked at the Princess. She met my look 
 proudly, with eyes set in a face pale as death. I 
 could not for the life of me read whether they for- 
 bade me or implored. They seemed to forbid, pro- 
 test . . . and yet (the bliss of it!) for one half -in- 
 stant they had also seemed to implore. Thank God 
 at least they did not scorn! 
 
 " Princess," I said, " these men propose to do me 
 an infinite honour — an honour far above my de- 
 serving — and to kill me while my heart yet beats 
 with the pride of it. Yet say to me now if I must 
 renounce it, and I will die bearing you no grudge. 
 Take thought, not of me, but of yourself only, and 
 sign to me if I must renounce." 
 
 Still she eyed me, pale and unblinking. Her 
 bosom panted, and for a moment she half-raised her 
 hand; but dropped it again. 
 
 " I think, sir," said I, facing around on the Com- 
 mandant, " I think bv this time the dav must be 
 breaking — if you will kindly open the shutters. 
 Also you would oblige me further — set it down to 
 
 447
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 an Englishman's whim — by forming up your men 
 outside, and we will have a soldier's wedding." 
 
 " Willingly, cavalier." The Commandant stepped 
 to the shutter and unbarred it, letting in daylight 
 with the cool morning breeze — a greenish-grey day- 
 light, falling across the glade without as softly as 
 ever through cathedral aisles, and a breeze that was 
 wine to the taste as it breathed through the ex- 
 hausted air of the cottage — a sacramental dawn, and 
 somewhere deep in the arcades of the tree-boles a 
 solitary bird singing! 
 
 The Commandant leaned forth and blew his 
 whistle. The bird's song ceased abruptly and was 
 followed by the tramp of men. My brain worked 
 so clearly, I could almost count their footsteps. I 
 saw them, across the Commandant's shoulder, as they 
 filed past the corner of the window and, having 
 formed into platoon, grounded arms, the butts of 
 their muskets thudding softly on the turf — a score 
 of men in blue-and-white uniforms, spick and span 
 in the clear morning light. 
 
 I counted them and drew a long breath. 
 
 " Master priest," said I, and held out my hand 
 to the Princess, " in your Church, I believe, matri- 
 mony is a sacrament. If you are ready, I am 
 ready." 
 
 His loose lip twitched as he stepped forward. 
 
 448
 
 ORDEAL AND CHOOSING 
 
 . . . When he paused in his muttering I lifted the 
 Princess's cold hand and drew a seal from my 
 pocket — a heavy seal with a ring attached, which I 
 fitted on her finger; and so I held her hand, letting 
 drop on it by degrees the weight of the heavy seal. 
 
 From the first she had offered no resistance, made 
 no protest. I pressed the seal into the palm of her 
 hand, not telling her that it was her own father's 
 great seal of Corsica. But I folded her fingers back 
 on it, the one yet encircled by the ring, and said I, 
 " It is the best I can give "; and a little later, " It 
 is all I brought in my pockets but this handkerchief. 
 Take that, too; lead me out; and bandage my eyes, 
 my wife." 
 
 She took my arm obediently and we stepped out 
 by the doorway, bridegroom and bride, in face of the 
 soldiery. A sergeant saluted and came forward for 
 the Commandant's orders. 
 
 " A moment, sir," said I, and, touching the Com- 
 mandant's arm, I nodded towards the bole of a 
 stout pine-tree across the clearing. " Will that dis- 
 tance suit you? " 
 
 He nodded in reply, and as I swung on my heel 
 touched my arm in his turn. 
 
 " You will do me the honour, sir, to shake 
 hands?" 
 
 " Most willingly, sir." I shook hands with him, 
 
 449
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 casting, as I did so, a glance over my shoulder at the 
 Prince and Father Domenico, who hung back in the 
 doorway — two men afraid. " Come," said I to the 
 Princess, and, as she seemed to hesitate, " Come, my 
 wife," I commanded, and walked to the pine-tree, 
 she following. I held out the handkerchief. She 
 took it, still obediently, and as she took it I clasped 
 her hand and lifted it to my lips. 
 
 " Nay," said I, challenging, " what was it you told 
 your brother? A moment — a pang — what are they 
 to weigh against a lifetime of dishonour? " 
 
 I saw her blench : yet even while she bandaged me 
 at my bidding, I did not arrive at understanding the 
 folly — the cruel folly of that speech. Nay, even 
 when, having bandaged me, she stepped away and 
 left me, I considered not nor surmised what second 
 meaning might be read in it. 
 
 Shall I confess the truth? I was too consciously 
 playing a part and making a handsome exit. After 
 all, had I not some little excuse? . . . Here was I, 
 young, lusty, healthful, with a man's career before 
 me, and across it, trenched at my feet, the grave. A 
 saying of Billy Priske's comes into my mind — a word 
 spoken, years after, upon a poor fisherman of Con- 
 stantine parish whose widow, as by will directed, 
 spent half his savings on a tombstone of carved 
 granite. " A man," said Billy, " must cut a dash 
 
 450
 
 ORDEAL AXD CHOOSING 
 
 once in his lifetime, though the chance don't come 
 till he's dead "... Looking back across these years, 
 I can smile at the hoy I was and forgive his poor 
 brave flourish. But his speech was thoughtless: the 
 woman (ah ! but he knows her better now) was with- 
 drawn with its wound in her heart: and between 
 them Death was stepping forward to make the mis- 
 understanding final. 
 
 I remember setting my shoulder-blades firmly 
 against the bole of the tree. A kind of indignation 
 sustained me — scorn to be cut off thus, scorn 
 especially for the two cowards by the doorway. 
 They were talking with the Commandant. Their 
 voices sounded across the interval between me and 
 the firing party. Why were they wasting time? . . . 
 
 I could not distinguish their words, save that twice 
 I heard the Prince curse viciously. The hound 
 (I told myself, shutting my teeth) might have re- 
 strained his tongue for a few moments — a few mo- 
 ments only. 
 
 The voices ceased. In a long pause I heard the 
 insects humming in the grasses at my feet. Would 
 the moment never come? 
 
 It came at last. A flash of light winked above the 
 edge of my bandage and close upon it broke the 
 roar and rattle of the volley . . . Death? I put 
 out my hands and groped for it. Where was Death ? 
 
 451
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 !N^ay, perhaps this was Death? If so, what fools 
 were men to fear it! The hum of the insects had 
 given place to silence — absolute silence. If bullet 
 had touched me, I had felt no pang at all. I was 
 standing, yes, surely I was standing . . . Slowly it 
 broke on me that I was unhurt, that they had fired 
 wide, prolonging their sport with me; and I tore 
 away the bandage, crying out upon them to finish 
 their cruelty. 
 
 At a little distance sat the Princess watching me, 
 her gun across her knees. Beyond her and beyond 
 the cottage, by the edge of the wood the firing party 
 had fallen into rank and were marching off among 
 the pine-stems, the Prince and Father Domenico 
 with them. I stared stupidly after the disappearing 
 uniforms, and put out a hand as if to brush away 
 the smoke which yet floated across the clearing. 
 The Commandant, turning to follow his men, at the 
 same moment lifted his hand in salute. So he, too, 
 passed out of sight. 
 
 I turned to the Princess : and she arose slowly and 
 came to me. 
 
 452
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 THE WOOING OF PRINCESS CAMILLA 
 
 Take heed of loving me, 
 At least remember I forbade it thee; 
 If thou love me, take heed of loving me. 
 
 — Donne, The Prohibition. 
 
 " You have conquered." 
 
 She had halted, a pace or two from me, with down- 
 cast eyes. She said it very slowly, and I stared at 
 her and answered with an unmeaning laugh. 
 
 " Forgive me. Princess. I — I fancy my poor wits 
 have been shaken and need a little time to recover. 
 At any rate, I do not understand you." 
 
 " You have conquered," she repeated in a low voice 
 that dragged upon the words. Then, after a pause. 
 — " You remember, once, promising me that at the 
 last I should come and place my neck under your 
 foot. . . ." She glanced up at me and dropped her 
 eyes again. " Yes, I see that you remember. Eccu 
 ... I am here." 
 
 " I remember, Princess : but even yet I do not un- 
 derstand. Why, and for what, should you beseech 
 me?" 
 
 453
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " In the first place for death. I am your wife. 
 . . ." She broke off with a shiver. " There is 
 something in the name, messere — is there not? — 
 that should move you to kindness, as a sportsman 
 takes his game not unkindly to break its neck. That 
 is all I ask of you " 
 
 " Princess ! " 
 
 She lifted a hand. " — except that you will let 
 me say what I have to say. You shall think hard 
 thoughts of me, and I will make them harder; but 
 for your own sake you shall put away vile ones — if 
 you can." 
 
 I stared at her stupidly, dizzied a little with the 
 words / am your wife humming in my brain. Or 
 say that I am naturally not quick-witted, and I will 
 plead that for once my dulness did me no discredit. 
 
 At all events it saved me for the moment : for while 
 I stared at her, utterly at a loss, a crackle of twigs 
 warned us and we turned together as, by the pathway 
 leading from the high-road, the bushes parted and 
 the face of Marc'antonio peered through upon the 
 clearing. 
 
 " Salutation, O Princess ! " said he gravely, and 
 stepped out of cover attended by Stephanu, who like- 
 wise saluted. 
 
 The Princess drew herself up imperiously. " I 
 thought, O Stephanu, that I had made plain my 
 
 454
 
 THE WOOING OF PKINCESS CAMILLA 
 
 orders, that you two were neither to follow nor to 
 watch me ? " 
 
 " Nevertheless," Marc'antonio made answer, 
 " when one misses a comrade and hears, at a little 
 distance, the firing of a volley — not to mention that 
 some one has been burning gunpowder hereabouts," 
 he wound up, sniffing the air with an expression that 
 absurdly reminded me of our Vicar, at home, tasting 
 wine. 
 
 " I warn you, O Marc'antonio," said the Princess, 
 " to be wise and ask no more questions." 
 
 " I have asked none, O Princess," he answered 
 again still very gravely, and after a glance at me 
 turned to Stephanu. " But it runs in my head, com- 
 rade, that the time has come to consider other things 
 than wisdom." 
 
 " For example ? " I challenged him sharply. 
 
 " For example, cavalier, that I cannot reconcile 
 this smell with any Corsican gunpowder." 
 
 " And you are right," said I. " Nay, Princess, 
 you have sworn not long since to obey me, and I 
 choose that they shall know. That salvo, sirs, was 
 fired, five minutes ago, by the Genoese." 
 
 " A salvo did you say, cavalier ? " 
 
 " For our wedding, Marc'antonio." I took the 
 Princess's hand — which neither yielded nor resisted 
 — and, lifting it a little way, released it to fall again 
 
 455
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 limply. So for a while there was silence between us 
 four. 
 
 " Marc'antonio/' said I, " and you, Stephanu — it 
 is I now who speak for the Princess and decide for 
 her : and I decide that you, who have served her faith- 
 fully, deserve to be told all the truth. It is truth, 
 then, that we are married. The priest who mar- 
 ried us was Fra Domenico, and with assent of his 
 master the Prince Camillo. I can give you, more- 
 over, the name of the chief witness: he is a certain 
 Signor or General Andrea Fornari, and commands 
 the Genoese garrison in Nonza." 
 
 " Princess ! " Marc'antonio implored her. 
 
 " It is true," said she. " This gentleman has done 
 me much honour, having heard what my brother chose 
 to say." 
 
 " But I do not understand — " The honest fellow 
 cast a wild look around the clearing. " Ah, yes — 
 the volley! They have taken the Prince, and shot 
 him. . . . But his body — they would not take his 
 body — and you standing here and allowing it " 
 
 " My friends," I interrupted, " they have cer- 
 tainly taken his body, and his soul too, for that mat- 
 ter; and I doubt if you can overtake either on this 
 side of Nonza. But with him you will find the crown 
 of Corsica and the priest who helped him to sell it. 
 I tell you this, who are clansmen of the Colonne: 
 
 456
 
 THE WOOING OF PRINCESS CAMILLA 
 
 and your mistress, who discovered the plot and was 
 here to hinder it, will confirm me." 
 
 Their eyes questioned her; not for long. In the 
 droop of her bowed head was confirmation enough. 
 
 " And therefore," I went on, " you tsvo can have 
 no better business than to help me convey the Princess 
 northward and bring her to her mother, whom in this 
 futile following after a wretched boy, you have all so 
 strangely forgotten. By God ! " said I, " there is 
 but one man in Corsica who has hunted, this while, 
 on a true scent and held to it, and he is an English- 
 man, solitary and faithful at this moment upon Cape 
 Corso!" 
 
 " Your pardon, cavalier," answered Marc'antonio 
 after a slow pause. " What you say is just, in part, 
 and I am not denying it. But so we saw not our 
 duty, since the Queen Emilia bade us follow her son. 
 With him wc have hunted (as you tell us) too long 
 and upon a false scent. Be it so: but, since this has 
 befallen, we must follow on the chase a little further. 
 For you, you have now the right to protect our well- 
 ])eloved — not only to the end of Cape Corso, but to 
 the end of the world. But for us, w^ho are two men 
 used to obey, the Princess your wife must suffer us 
 to disobey her now for the first time. The road to 
 the Cape, avoiding Xonza, is rough and steep and 
 must be travelled afoot ; vet I think vou twain can 
 
 457
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 accomplish it. At the Cape, if God will, we will meet 
 you and stand again at your service ; but we travel 
 by another road — the road which does not avoid 
 Nonza." 
 
 He glanced at Stephann, who nodded. 
 
 " Farewell then, O Princess ; and if this be the 
 end of onr service, forgive what in the past has been 
 done amiss. Farewell, O cavalier, and be happy to 
 protect her in perils wherein we were powerless." 
 
 The Princess stretched out both hands. 
 
 " Nay, mistress," said Marc'antonio with another 
 glance at Stephanu ; " but first cross them, that there 
 be no telling the right from the left: for we are 
 jealous men." 
 
 She crossed them obediently, and the two took each 
 a hand and kissed it. 
 
 Now all this while I could see that she was strug- 
 gling for speech, and as they released her hands she 
 found it. 
 
 " But wherefore must you go by Nonza, O Marc'- 
 antonio ? And how many will you take with you ? " 
 
 Marc'antonio put the question aside. " We go 
 alone, Princess. You may call it a reconnaissance, 
 on which the fewer taken the better." 
 
 " You will not kill him! — Nay, then, O Marc'an- 
 tonio, at least — at least you will not hurt him! " 
 
 " We hope. Princess, that there will be no need," 
 
 458
 
 THE WOOING OF PRINCESS CAMILLA 
 
 he answered seriously, and, saluting once more, 
 turned on his heel. Stephanu also saluted and 
 turned, and the pair, falling into step, went from us 
 across the clearing. 
 
 I watched them till their forms disappeared in the 
 undergrowth, and turned to my bride. 
 
 " And now, Princess, I believe you have something 
 to say to me. Shall it be here ? I will not suggest 
 the cottage, which is overfull maybe of unpleasant 
 reminders; but here is a tree-trunk, if you will be 
 seated." 
 
 " That shall be as my lord chooses." 
 
 I laughed. " Your lord chooses, then, that you 
 take a seat. It seems (I take your word for it) that 
 there must be hard thoughts between us. Well, a 
 straight quarrel is soonest ended, they say: let us 
 have them out and get them over." 
 
 "Ah, you hurt! Is it necessary that you hurt 
 so ? " Her eyes no less than her voice sobered me at 
 once, shuddering together as though my laugh had 
 driven home a sword and it grated on the bone. I 
 remembered that she always winced at laughter, but 
 this evident anguish puzzled me. 
 
 " God knows," said I, " how I am hurting you. 
 But pardon me ; speak what you have to speak ; and 
 I will be patient while I learn." 
 
 " ' A lifetime of dishonour ' you said, and yet you 
 
 459
 
 Sm JOHN constats' TIXE 
 
 laugh. ... A lifetime of dishonour, and you were 
 blithe to he shot and escape it; yet now you laugh. 
 Ah, I cannot understand ! " 
 
 " Princess ! " I protested, although not even now 
 did I grasp what meaning she had misread into my 
 words. 
 
 " But you said rightly. It is a lifetime of dis- 
 honour you have suffered them to put on you: and 
 I — I have taken more than life from you, cavalier — 
 yet I cannot grieve it while you laugh. O sir, do not 
 take from me my last help, which is to honour you ! " 
 
 " Listen to me. Princess," said I, stepping close 
 and standing over her. " What do you suppose that 
 I meant by using those words? — your own words, 
 remember." 
 
 " That is better. It will help us both if we are 
 frank — onlv do not treat me as a child. You heard 
 what my brother said. Yes, and doubtless you have 
 heard other things to my shame. . . . Answer me." 
 
 " If your brother chose to utter slanders " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; it was easy to catch him by the throat. 
 That is how one man treats another who calls a 
 woman vile in her presence. It does not mean that 
 he disbelieves, and therefore is worthless: but a gal- 
 lant man will act so, almost without a second thought, 
 and because it is dans les formes^ She paused. " I 
 learned that phrase in Brussels, cavalier." 
 
 460
 
 THE WOOING OF PRINCESS CAMILLA 
 
 I made no answer. 
 
 — " In Brussels, cavalier," she repeated, " where 
 it was often in the mouths of very vile persons. You 
 have heard, perhaps, that we — that my brother and 
 I — lived our childhood in Brussels ? " 
 
 I bent my head, without answering, but still she 
 persisted. " I was brought to Corsica from Brussels, 
 cavalier. Marc'antonio and Stephanu fetched us 
 thence, being guided by that priest who is now my 
 brother's confessor." 
 
 " I have been told so, Princess. Marc'antonio told 
 me." 
 
 " Did he also tell you where he found me ? " 
 
 " No, Princess." 
 
 " Did he tell you that, being fetched hither, I was 
 offered by my brother in marriage to a young Count 
 Odo of the Rocca Serra, and that the poor boy slew 
 himself with his own gun ? " 
 
 I stuffed my hands deep in my pockets, and said 
 I, standing over her, " All this has been told me, 
 Princess, though not the precise reason for it: and 
 since you desire me to be frank I will tell you that 
 I have given some thought to that dead lad — that 
 rival of mine (if you wall permit the word) whom I 
 never knew. The mystery of his death is a mystery 
 to me still : but in all my blind guesses this somehow 
 remained clear to me, that he had loved you, Priu- 
 
 4G1
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 cess: and this (again I ask your leave to say it), be- 
 cause I could understand it so well, forbade me to 
 think unkindly of him." 
 
 " He loved his honour better, sir." Her face had 
 flushed darkly. 
 
 " I am sorry, then, if I must suffer by comparison." 
 
 " No, no," she protested. " Oh, why will you twist 
 my words and force me to seem ungrateful ? He died 
 rather than have me to wife: you took me on the 
 terms that within a few minutes you must die. For 
 both of you the remedy was at hand, only you chose 
 to save me before taking it. On my knees, sir, I 
 could thank you for that. The crueller were they 
 that, when you stood up claiming your right to die, 
 they broke the bargain and cheated you." 
 
 " Princess," I said after musing a moment, " if 
 my surviving seemed to you so pitiable, there was an- 
 other way." I pointed to her musket. 
 
 " Yes, cavalier, and I will confess to you that 
 when, having fired wide, they turned to go and the 
 cheat was evident, twice before you pulled the band- 
 age away I had lifted my gun. But I could not fire 
 it, cavalier. To make me your executioner! . . . 
 and while you thought so vilely of me. . . ." 
 
 " Faith," said I grimly, " it was asking too much, 
 even for a Genoese ! Yet again I think you overrate 
 their little trick, since after all " — I touched my own 
 
 462
 
 THE WOOING OF PRIXCESS CAMILLA 
 
 gimstock — " there remains a third way — the way 
 chosen by young Odo of Rocca Serra," 
 
 She put out a hand. " Sir, that way you need not 
 take — if you will be patient and hear me ! " 
 
 " Lady," said I, " you may hastily despise me, but 
 I am neither going to take that way, nor to be patient, 
 nor to hear you. But I am, as you invited me, going 
 to be very frank and confess to you, risking your con- 
 tempt, that I am extremely thankful the Genoese did 
 not shoot me, just now. Indeed, I do not remember 
 in all my life to have felt so glad, as I feel just now, 
 to be alive. Give me your gun, please." 
 
 " I do not understand." 
 
 " No, you do not understand. . . . Your gun, 
 please . . . nay, you can lay it on the turf between 
 us : the phial, too, that you offered your brother. 
 Thank you. And now, my wife, let us talk of your 
 country and mine — two islands which appear to dif- 
 fer more than I had guessed. In Corsica it would 
 seem that, let a vile thing be spoken against a woman, 
 it suffices. Belief in it does not count : it suffices that 
 a shadow has touched her, and rather than share that 
 shadow, men will kill themselves — so tender a plant 
 is their honour. Now in England, O Princess, men 
 are perhaps even more irrational. They, no more 
 than your Corsicans, listen to the evidence and ask 
 themselves, ' Is this good evidence or bad ? Do I 
 
 4G3
 
 SIR JOHN" CONSTANTIXE 
 
 believe it or disbelieve ? ' They begin farther back, 
 Princess — shall I tell you how ? They look in the 
 face of their beloved and they say, ' Slander this 
 only as you dare; for here my belief is fixed before- 
 hand.' " 
 
 " And therefore, O Princess," I went on after a 
 pause in which we eyed one another slowly, " there- 
 fore, I disbelieve any slander concerning you ; not 
 merely because your brother's confessor w^as its au- 
 thor — though this to any rational man should be 
 enough — but because I have looked in your face. 
 Therefore also I — I, your husband — forbid you to 
 speak what would dishonour us both." 
 
 " But, cavalier — if — if it were true ? " 
 
 " True ? " — I let out a harsh laugh. " Take up 
 that phial. Hold it in your hand — so. Xow look 
 me in the face and drink — if you dare ! Look me in 
 the face, read how I trust you, and so, if you can 
 say the lie to me, say it — and drink ! " 
 
 She lifted the phial steadily, almost to her lips, 
 keeping her eyes on mine — but of a sudden faltered 
 and let it fall upon the turf; where I, whose heart 
 had all but stood still, crushed my heel upon it 
 savagely. 
 
 " I cannot. You have conquered," she gasped. 
 
 " Conquered ? " I swore a bitter oath. " O Prin- 
 cess, think you this is the way I promised to conquer 
 
 4G4
 
 THE WOOING OF PRINCESS CAMILLA 
 
 you ? Take up your gun again and follow me. . , . 
 Eh ? You do not ask where I lead ? " 
 
 " It is enough that I follow you, my husband," 
 she said, slowly, humbly. 
 
 " It is something, indeed : but before God it is not 
 enough, not half enough. I see now that ' enough ' 
 may never come : almost I doubt if I, who swore to 
 you it should come, and since have desired it madly, 
 desire it any longer; and until it comes you are still 
 the winner, ' Enough ' shall be said, Princess — for 
 my price rises — not when (as I promised) you come 
 to me without choosing to be loved or hated, only 
 beseeching your master, but \vhen you shall come to 
 me having made your choice. . . . But so far, so 
 good," said I cheerfully, changing my tone. '* You 
 do not ask where I lead. I am leading you, if I can, 
 to Cape Corso, to my father; and by his means, if 
 they serve, to your mother." 
 
 " I thank you, cavalier," she said, still in her re- 
 strained voice. " You are a good man ; and for that 
 reason I am sorry you will not listen to me — and 
 understand." 
 
 " The mountains are before us," said I, shoulder- 
 ing my gun. " Listen, Princess: let us be good com- 
 rades, us two. Let us forget what lies at the end of 
 the journey — the convent for you, maybe, and for 
 me at least the parting. ^ly life has been spared 
 
 465
 
 SIR JOHX COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 to-day aud I tell you frankly, 1 am glad of the respite. 
 For you, the mountains hold no slanders, and still 
 less shall hold any evil. Put your hand in mine on 
 the compact, and we will both step it bravely : forget 
 that you were ever a Princess or I a promised king 
 of this Corsica. O beloved, travel this land which 
 can never be yours or mine, and let it be ours only 
 for a while as we journey." 
 
 I turned and led the way up the path between the 
 bushes, not staying to part them for her: and she 
 followed my stride almost at a run. On the bare 
 mountain spur above the high-road she overtook and 
 fell into pace with me; and so, skirting Xonza, we 
 breasted the long slope of the range. 
 
 466
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 MY WEDDING DAY 
 
 Come, my beloved, let us go forth into the field; let us lodge in 
 the villages. Let us get up early to the vineyards; let us see 
 whether the vine hath budded and the tender grape appear. 
 
 — The Song of Songs. 
 
 Ahead of us, high on our right, rose the mountain 
 ridges, scarp upon scarp, to the snowy peak of Monte 
 Stella; low on our left lay Nonza, and beyond it a 
 sea blue as a sapphire, scarcely rippled, void of life 
 save for one white sail far away on the south-west 
 horizon — not the Gauntlet: for, distant though she 
 was, I could make out the shape of her canvas, and 
 it was square-cut. 
 
 Nonza itself lay in the shadow of the shore with 
 the early light shimmering upon its citadel and upper 
 works — a fortress to all appearance asleep: but the 
 Genoese pickets would be awake and guarding the 
 northward road for at least a league beyond, and to 
 avoid them we must cross the high mountain spurs, 
 using where we could their patches of forest and our 
 best speed where these left the ridges bare. 
 
 The wav was hard — harder bv far than I had 
 
 4G7
 
 SIE JOHN COXSTAXTIXE 
 
 deemed possible — and kept us too busy for talk. Our 
 silence was not otherwise constrained at all. Passion 
 fell away from us as we climbed; fell away with its 
 strife, its confusion, its distempered memories of the 
 night now past, and was left with the vapours of 
 the coast where the malaria brooded. Through the 
 upper, clearer atmosphere we walked as gods on the 
 roof of the world, saw with clear eyes and knew with 
 mind and spirit untroubled by self-sickness. We 
 were silent, having fallen into an accord which made 
 speech unnecessary. Difficult as the road soon be- 
 came, and, while unknown to both of us, more diffi- 
 cult to me because of my inexperience, we chose 
 without hesitating, almost without consulting, each 
 moment bringing decision, and with decision, its own 
 help. Xow it was I who steadied her leap across a 
 chasm ; now came her turn to underprop my foothold 
 till I reached a ledge whence I could reach down a 
 hand and drag her up to me. As a rule I may call 
 myself a blundering climber, my build being too 
 heavy; but I made no mistake that day. Once only 
 (as I remember) she spoke to me in the course of a 
 three hours' scramble, and then as a comrade, in quiet 
 approval of my mountaineering. We had come to a 
 crag over which — with no word said — I had lowered 
 her by help of my bandolier. She had waited at the 
 foot while I followed her down without assistance, 
 
 468
 
 jVIY wedding day 
 
 traversing on the way an outward-sloping ledge of 
 smooth rock which overhnng a precipice and a sheer 
 fall of at least three hundred feet. The ledge had 
 nowhere a notch in it to grip the boot-sole, and was 
 moreover slippery with the green ooze of a mountain 
 spring. It has haunted my dreams since then ; I 
 would not essay it again for my weight in money ; 
 but I crossed it that day, so to speak, with my hands 
 in my pockets. 
 
 The most curious (you might call it the most un- 
 canny) part of the whole adventure, was that from 
 time to time we came out of these breathless scram- 
 bles plump upon a patch of cultivated ground and a 
 hill-farm with its steading; the explanation being 
 that these farms stand each at the head of its own 
 ravine, and, inaccessible one to another, have com- 
 munication with the world only by the tracks, which 
 lead down their ravines. Here, three thousand feet 
 and more above the sea — upon which we looked down 
 between cliff and woodland as through a funnel, and 
 upon the roofs and whitewashed walls of fishing- 
 villages on the edge of the blue — lived slow, sedate 
 folks, who called their dogs off us and stared upon 
 us as portents and gave us goat's-milk and bread, 
 refusing the coins we proffered. The inhabitants of 
 this cape (I have since learned) are a race apart in 
 Corsica; slow, peaceable, without politics and almost 
 
 469
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 (as we should say) without patriotism. We came to 
 them as gods from the heights, and they received and 
 sped us as gods. They were too slow of speech to 
 question us, or even to express their astonishment. 
 
 There was one farm with a stream plunging past 
 it, and, by the house-wall, a locked mill-wheel (God 
 knows what it had ever ground), and by the door 
 below it a woman seated on a flight of steps with her 
 bosom half-covered and a sucking-child laid asleep 
 across her knees. She blinked in the sunshine as 
 we came across the yard to her, and said she : — 
 
 " Salutation, O strangers, and pardon that I can- 
 not rise : but the little one is sick of a fever and I 
 fear to stir him, for he makes as if he would sleep. 
 Nor is there any one else to entertain you, since my 
 husband has gone down to the marina to fetch the 
 wise woman who lives there." 
 
 The Princess stepped close and stood over her. 
 " O paesana,^' said she, " do you and your man live 
 here alone, so far up the mountain ? " 
 
 " There is the hamhino,^^ said the mother simply. 
 " He is my first — and a boy, by the gift of the Holy 
 Virgin. Already he takes notice, and soon he will 
 be learning to talk: but since we both talk to him 
 and about him, you may say that already there are 
 three of us, and anon the good Lord may send us 
 others. It is hard work, O hella donna, on such a 
 
 470
 
 MY WEDDING DAY 
 
 farm as ours, and doubly hard on my husband now 
 for these months that I have been able to help him 
 but little. But with a good man and his child — if 
 God spare the child — I shall want no happiness." 
 
 " Give me the child," said the Princess, taking a 
 seat on the stone slab beside her. " He shall not 
 hurt with me while you fetch us a draught of milk." 
 
 The woman stared at her and at me, fearfully at 
 first, then with a strange look in her eyes, between 
 awe and disbelief and a growing hope. 
 
 " Even when you came," she said hoarsely after 
 a while, " I was praying for an angel to help my 
 child. . . . O blind, O hard of faith that I am! 
 And when I lifted my eyes and saw you, I bethought 
 me not that none walk this mountain by the path 
 you have come, nor has this land any like you twain 
 for beauty and stature. . . . O lady — whether from 
 heaven or earth — you will not take my child but to 
 cure it ? He is my only one." 
 
 " Give him to me." 
 
 The woman laid her child in the Princess's arms 
 and ran into the house, throwing one look of terror 
 back at us from the doorstep. The Princess sat mo- 
 tionless, gazing down on the closed lids, frowning, 
 deep in thoughts I could not follow. 
 
 " You will not," said I, " leave this good foolish 
 soul in her error ? " 
 
 471
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " I have heard," she answered quietly, without 
 lifting her eyes, " that a royal touch has virtue to 
 heal sometimes — and there was a time when you 
 claimed to be King of Corsica. J^ay, forgive me," 
 she took herself up quickly, " there is bitterness yet 
 left in me, but that speech shall be the last of it. 
 . . . O husband, O my friend, I was thinking that 
 this child will grow into a man : and of what his 
 mother said, that there is such a thing as a good 
 man: and I am trying to believe her. . . . Eccul 
 he sleeps, poor mite ! Listen to his breathing." 
 
 The farm-wife came out with a full bowl of milk. 
 Her hands shook and spilled some as she handed it 
 to me, so eager were they to hold her infant again. 
 Taking it and feeling the damp sweat as she passed 
 a hand over its brow, she broke forth into blessings. 
 
 We told her of her mistake : but I doubt if she 
 heard. " I have dwelt here these three years," she 
 persisted, " and none ever walked the mountain by 
 the path you have come." She watched us as I 
 held the bowl for the Princess to drink, and asked 
 quaintly, " But is there no marrying in heaven ? I 
 have thought upon that many times and always it 
 puzzles me." 
 
 We said farewell to her and took her blessings 
 with us as she watched us across the head of the 
 ravine. Then followed another half-hour of silence 
 
 472
 
 MY WEDDING DAY 
 
 and sharp climbing: but the worst was over, and by 
 and by the range tailed off into a chain of lessening 
 hills over which in the purple distance rose a soli- 
 tary sharp cone with a ruinous castle upon it, which 
 (said the Princess) was Seneca's Tower at the head 
 of the Vale of Luri. 
 
 We were now beyond the danger of the Genoese, 
 and therefore turned aside to the left and descended 
 the slopes to the high-road, along which we made good 
 speed until, having passed the tower and the mouth 
 of the gorge which leads up to it from the westward, 
 we came, almost at nightfall, w^ithin sight of Pino 
 by the sea. 
 
 Here I proposed that I should go forward to the 
 village and find a night's lodging for her, pointing 
 out that, the night being warm and dry, I could make 
 my couch comfortably enough in one of the citron 
 orchards that here lined the road on the landward 
 side. To this at first she assented — it seemed to me, 
 even eagerly. But I had scarcely taken forty paces 
 up the road before I heard her voice calling me back, 
 and back I went obediently. 
 
 " O husband," she said, " the dusk has fallen, and 
 now in the dusk I can say a word I have been long- 
 ing all day to be free of. Nay " — she put out a 
 hand — " you must not forbid me : you must not even 
 delay me now." 
 
 473
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 " What is it, that I should forbid you ? " 
 
 " It is — about Brussels." 
 
 I dropped my hand impatiently and was turning 
 away, but she touched my arm and the touch pleaded 
 with me to face her. 
 
 " I have a right. . . . Yes, it was good of you to 
 refuse it; but you cannot go on refusing, because — 
 see you — your goodness makes my right the stronger. 
 This morning I could have told you, but you refused 
 me. All this day I have known that refusal unjust." 
 
 " All this day ? Then — pardon, Princess — but 
 why should I hear you now, at this moment ? " 
 
 " The daylight is past," she said simply. " You 
 can listen now and not see my face." 
 
 On the hedge of the ditch beside the high-road lay 
 a rough fragment of granite, a stone cracked and dis- 
 carded, once the base of an olive-mill. She found a 
 seat upon it and motioned to me to come close, and 
 I stood close, staring down on her while she stared 
 down at her feet, grey with dust almost as the road 
 itself. 
 
 " We were children, Camillo and I," she said at 
 length, " in keep of an ill woman we called Maman 
 Trebuchet, and in a house near the entrance of a 
 court leading off the Rue de la Madeleine and close 
 beside the market. How we had come there we 
 never inquired. ... I suppose all children take 
 
 47-i
 
 MY WEDDING DxVY 
 
 such things as they find them. The house was of five 
 stories, all let out in tenements, and we inhabited 
 two rooms on the fourth floor to the left as you went 
 up the staircase. . . . Some of the men quarrelled 
 with their wives and beat them. There was always 
 a noise of quarrelling somewhere in the house : but 
 outside before the front door the men who were not 
 beating their women would sit for hours together and 
 smoke and spit and tell one another stories against 
 the Church and against women. The pavement 
 where they sat and the street before it was strewn 
 always with rotting odds and ends of vegetables, for 
 almost every one in that quarter earned his living by 
 the ]\Iarket, and Maman Trebuchet among the rest. 
 She divided her time between walking the streets 
 with a basket and drinking the profits away in the 
 cabarets, and in the intervals she cursed and beat 
 us. We lived for the most part on the refuse she 
 brought home at night — on so much of her stock as 
 had found no purchaser, and we played about the 
 gutters and alleys of the Market. So far as I re- 
 member we were neither very happy nor yet very 
 miserable. We knew that we were brother and sis- 
 ter, and that Maman Trebuchet was not our real 
 mother. Beyond this we were not inquisitive, but 
 took life as we found it. 
 
 " Nevertheless, I know now that we were not alto- 
 
 475
 
 Sm JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 gether lost, but that eyes in Brussels were watching 
 us — though how far they were friendly I cannot tell 
 you. I think sometimes that the agents of the Geno- 
 ese, who had hidden us there, must have been play- 
 ing their own game as well as their masters'. There 
 was, for example, a dark man who often visited the 
 Market: he called himself a lay-brother and seemed 
 to be busy with religious work among the poor of 
 the quarter. We knew him as Maitre Antoine at 
 first, and so he was generally called: but he told us 
 that his real name was Antonio — or Antonin, as he 
 spoke it, and that he came from Italy. He took a 
 great fancy to us and obtained leave of Maman Tre- 
 buchet to teach us the Scriptures : but what he really 
 taught us was to speak with him in Italian. We did 
 not know at the time that, though he called it Tus- 
 can, he was all the while teaching us our own Cor- 
 sican. Nor, I believe, did our guardian know this 
 — but one day, finding out by chance that we knew 
 Italian (for we had begun to talk it together, that 
 she might not understand what we said) and discov- 
 ering how we had picked it up, she flew into a dread- 
 ful rage, lay in wait next day to catch Maitre An- 
 toine as he came up the stairs, and fell upon him 
 with such fury that the poor man fled out of the 
 house and we never saw him again. 
 
 " After this — I believe about a year later — there 
 
 476
 
 MY WEDDING DAY 
 
 came a day when she bought a new cap and shawl 
 for herself and new clothes for us, and, having seen 
 that we were thoroughly washed, took us up the hill 
 to a fine street near the palace, and to a hotel which 
 was almost the grandest house in the street. We 
 entered, and were led into the presence of a very 
 noble-looking gentleman in a long yellow dressing- 
 gown, who blessed us and gave us a kiss apiece, and 
 some gold money, and afterwards poured out wine 
 for Maman Trebuchet and thanked her for taking 
 such good care of us." 
 
 " That was your father. Princess." 
 
 " I have often thought so. But remember noth- 
 ing of his face except that he had tears in his eyes 
 when we said good-bye to him ; at which I wondered 
 a great deal, for I had never seen a man crying. 
 When we were outside again in the street Maman 
 Trebuchet took the gold away from us. I think she 
 too must have received money: for from that day 
 she neglected her marketing and drank more heavily 
 than before. About a month later she was dead. 
 
 " On the day of the funeral there came to our 
 house a man dressed like a gentleman — yet I believe 
 rather that he must have been some kind of courier 
 or valet. He spoke to us very kindly, and said that 
 we had friends, who had sent him to us ; that when 
 we grew up we should not want for money ; but that 
 
 477
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 just now it was most important we should be put to 
 school and made fit for our proper position in life. 
 We must make up our minds to be separated, he 
 said — and at this we both wept — but we should see 
 one another often. For Camillo he had found lodg- 
 ings with an excellent tutor, in whose care, after a 
 year's study, he was to travel abroad and see the 
 world : while for me he had chosen a home with some 
 discreet ladies who would attend to my schooling. 
 
 " The house was in the Rue de Luxembourg — a 
 corner house, where the street is joined by a lane 
 running from the Place du Paivis. He led me to 
 it that same evening, and Camillo came too, to make 
 sure that I was comfortable. It was a strange house 
 and full of ladies, the most of them young and all 
 very handsomely dressed. But for their dresses I 
 could almost have fancied it some kind of con- 
 vent. At all events, they received me kindly, and 
 many of them wept when they saw my parting with 
 Camillo." 
 
 Here the Princess paused, and sat silent for so 
 long that I bent forward in the dusk to read her 
 face. She drew away, shivering, and put up both 
 hands as if to cover it. 
 
 "Well, Princess?" 
 
 "That house, cavalier! . . . that horrible house! 
 . . . Ah, remember that I was a child, scarcely 
 
 478
 
 MY WEDDIXG DAY 
 
 twelve years old — I had heard vile words among the 
 market folk, but they were words and meant noth- 
 ing to me: and now I saw things which I did not 
 understand and — and I became used to them before 
 ever guessing that these were the things those vile 
 words had meant. The women were pretty, you see 
 . . . and merry, and kind to me at first. Before 
 God I never dreamed that I was looking on harm — 
 not at first — but afterwards, when it was too late. 
 The people who had put me there ceased to send 
 money, and, being a strong child and willing to work, 
 at first I was put to make the women their choco- 
 late, and carry it up to them of a morning, and so, 
 little by little, I came to be their house-drudge. I 
 had lost all news of Camillo. For hours I had 
 hunted through the streets of Brussels, if by chance 
 I might get sight of him . . . but he was lost. And 
 I — O cavalier, have pity on me! " 
 
 " Wife," said I, standing before her, " why have 
 you told me this ? Did I not say to you that I have 
 seen your face and believe, and no story shall shake 
 my belief? . . . Nay, then, I am glad — yes, glad. 
 Dear enough, God knows, you would have been to 
 me had I met you, a child among these hills and 
 ignorant as a child of evil. How much dearer you, 
 who have trodden the hot ploughshares and come to 
 me through the fires! . . . See now, I could kneel 
 
 479
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 to you, O queen, for shame at the little I have de- 
 served." 
 
 But she put out a hand to check me. " O friend," 
 she said sadly, " will you never understand ? For 
 the great faith you pay me I shall go thankfully all 
 my days: but the faith that should answer it I can- 
 not give you. . . . Ah, there lies the cruelty! You 
 are able to trust, and I can never trust in return. 
 You can believe, but I cannot believe. I have seen 
 all men so vile that the root of faith is withered in 
 me. . . . Sir, believe, that though everything that 
 makes me will to thank you must make me seem the 
 more ungrateful, yet I honour you too much to give 
 you less than an equal faith. I am your slave, if 
 you command. But if you ask what only can honour 
 us two as man and wife, you lose all, and I am for 
 ever degraded." 
 
 I stepped back a pace. " O Princess," I said 
 slowly, " I shall never claim your faith until you 
 bring it to me humbly, with a straight brow and 
 truth on your lips. Let this account be closed be- 
 tween us until you come to me — as in the end you 
 shall — asking to reopen it. That was the challenge 
 I flung to you, long ago, over my friend's grave. . . . 
 And now, let all this rest for a while. Take up your 
 story again and tell me the story to the end." 
 
 So in the darkness, seated there upon the mill- 
 
 480
 
 MY WEDDING DAY 
 
 stone with her gun across her knees, she told me all 
 the story, very quietly: — How at the last she had 
 been found in the house in Brussels by Marc'antonio 
 and Stephanu and fetched home to the island; how 
 she had found there her brother Caraillo in charge 
 of Fra Domenico, his tutor and confessor ; with 
 what kindness the priest had received her, how he 
 had confessed her and assured her that the book of 
 those horrible rears was closed : and how, neverthe- 
 
 V 7 7 
 
 less, the story had crept out, poisoning the people's 
 loyalty and her brother's chances. 
 
 I heard her to the end, or almost to the end: for 
 while she drew near to conclude, and while I stood 
 grinding my teeth upon the certainty that all this 
 plot — from the kidnapping straight down to the 
 spreading of the slanders — had been Master Domeni- 
 co's work, and his only, the air thudded with a dis- 
 tant dull concussion at which, breaking off her nar- 
 rative, she lifted her head to listen. 
 
 " It is the sound of guns," said I, listening too, 
 while half a dozen similar concussions followed. 
 " Heavy artillery, too, and from the southward." 
 
 " !N"ay ; but what light is that, yonder, to the 
 north ? " 
 
 She pointed iuto the night behind mo, and I turned 
 to see a faint glow spreading along the northern hori- 
 zon, and mounting, and reddening as it mounted until 
 
 481
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 the black hills between us and Cape Corso stood up 
 against it in sharp outline. 
 
 " O wife," said I, " since you must be weary, 
 sleep, if you will, for a while, and I will keep watch : 
 but wake soon, for yonder is something worth your 
 seeing." 
 
 " Whose work is it, think you ? " 
 
 " The work," said I, " of a man who would set 
 the whole world on fire, and only for love." 
 
 482
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 THE FLAME AND THE ALTAJB 
 
 And when he saw the statly towre 
 
 Shining baith clere and bricht, 
 Whilk stood abune the jawing wave, 
 
 Built on a rock of height, 
 
 Says, Row the boat, my mariners. 
 
 And bring me to the land, 
 For yonder I see my love's castle 
 
 Close by the saut sea strand. — Rough Royal. 
 
 As 'twixt two equal armies Fate 
 
 Suspends uncertain victory, 
 Our souls^which to advance our state 
 
 Were gone out — hung 'twixt her and me: 
 
 And whilst our souls negotiate there. 
 
 We like sepulchral statues lay; 
 All day the same our postures were. 
 
 And we said nothing, all the day. 
 
 — Donne, The Ecstasie. 
 
 She rose from the stone willingly enough, but 
 swayed a little, finding her feet ; and the faint light, 
 as she turned her face to it, showed me that she was 
 weary almost to fainting. In short she had come to 
 a pass where the more haste would certainly make 
 the worse speed. 
 
 483
 
 SIR JOHK CONSTAT TIXE 
 
 " It is not spirit you lack, but sleep," said I, and 
 she confessed that it was so. An hour's rest would 
 uecover her, she said, and obediently lay down where 
 I found a couch for her on a bank of sweet-smelling 
 heath above the road. I too wanted rest, and settled 
 myself down with my back against a citron-tree some 
 twenty paces distant. 
 
 Chaucer says somewhere (and it is true), that 
 women take less sleep and take it more lightly than 
 men. It seemed to me that I had scarcely closed 
 my eyes before I opened them again at a touch on 
 my shoulder. The night was yet dark around us, 
 save for the glow to the northward, and at first I 
 would hardly believe when the Princess told me that 
 I had been sleeping near upon three hours. Then 
 it occurred to me that for a long while the sky over- 
 head had been shaking and repeating the boom of 
 cannon. 
 
 " There is firing to the south of us," she said ; 
 " and heavier firing than where the light is. It 
 comes from Xonza or thereabouts." 
 
 " Then it is no affair of ours, even if we could 
 reach it. But the flame yonder will lead us to my 
 father and (I trust) to the Queen Emilia." 
 
 So we took the white, glimmering high-road again 
 and stepped out briskly, refreshed by sleep and the 
 cool night air that went with us, blowing softly across 
 
 484
 
 THE FLAME AND THE ALTAll 
 
 the ridges on our right. We found a track that 
 skirted the village of Pino, leading us wide among 
 orchards of citron and olive, and had scarcely re- 
 gained the road before the guns to the south ceased 
 firing. Also the red glow, though it still suffused 
 the north, began to fade as we neared it and climbed 
 the last of steep hills that run out to the extremity 
 of the Cape. There upon the summit suddenly we 
 came to a stand and caught our breath. 
 
 The sea lav at our feet, and down across its black 
 floor to the base of the cliff on which we stood ran a 
 broad ribbon of light. It shone from a rock less than 
 half a league distant : and on that rock stood a castle 
 which was a furnace — its walls black as the bars of 
 a grate, its windows aglow with contained fire. For 
 the moment it seemed that this fire filled the whole 
 pile of masonry : but presently, while we stood and 
 stared, a sudden flame, shooting high from the walls, 
 lit up the front of a tall tower above them, with a 
 line of battlements at its base and on the battlements 
 a range of roofs yet intact. As though a slide had 
 been opened and as rapidly shut again, this vision 
 of tower, roofs, battlements gleamed for a second and 
 vanished as the flame sank and a cloud of smoke and 
 sparks rolled up in its place and drifted heavily to 
 leeward. 
 
 With a light touch on the Princess's arm I bade 
 
 485
 
 SIK JOHX CONSTANTIXE 
 
 her follow me, and we raced together down the slope. 
 At the foot of it we plunged into a grove of olives 
 and through it, as through a screen, emerged upon 
 the street of a little marina — two dozen fisher-hut8, 
 huddled close above the foreshore, and tenantless — 
 for their inhabitants were gathered all on the beach 
 and staring at the blaze. 
 
 I have said that the folk at Cape Corso are a race 
 apart: and surely there never was a stranger crowd 
 than that in which, two minutes later, we found our- 
 selves mingling unchallenged. They accepted us, 
 maybe, as a minor miracle of the night. They gazed 
 at us curiously there in the light of the conflagration, 
 and from us away to the burning island, and talked 
 together in whispers, in a patois of which I caught 
 but one word in three. They asked me no ques- 
 tions. Their voices filled the beach with a kind of 
 subdued murmuring, all alike gentle and patiently 
 explanatory. 
 
 " It is the island of Giraglia," said one to me. 
 " Yes, yes ; this will be the work of the patriots — a 
 brave feat too, there's no denying." 
 
 I pointed to a line of fishing-boats moored a short 
 furlong oif the shore in the shoal water. 
 
 " If you own one," said I, " give me leave to hire 
 her from you, and name your price." 
 
 " Perche, perche?" 
 
 486
 
 THE FLAME AND THE ALTAR 
 
 " I wish to sail her to the island." 
 
 " O galanVuomo, but why should any one desire 
 to sail to the island to-night of all nights, seeing that 
 to-night they have set it on fire ? " 
 
 I stared at his simplicity. " You are not patriots, 
 it seems, at this end of the Cape ? " 
 
 He shook his head gravely. " The Genoese on the 
 island are our customers, and buy our fish. Why 
 should men quarrel ? " 
 
 " If it come to commerce, then, will you sell me 
 your boat ? The price of her should be worth many 
 a day's barter of fish." 
 
 He shook his head again, but turned and called 
 his neighbours to him, men and women, and they 
 began to discuss my offer, all muttering together, 
 their voices mingling confusedly as in a dream. 
 
 By and by the man turned to me. " The price is 
 thirty-five livres, signore, on deposit, for which you 
 may choose any boat you will. We are peaceable 
 folk and care not to meddle; but the half shall be 
 refunded if you bring her back safe and sound." 
 
 " Fetch me a shore-boat, then," said I, while they 
 counted my money, having fetched a lantern for the 
 purpose. 
 
 But it appeared that shore-boat there was none. I 
 learned later that my father and Captain Pomery, 
 acting on his behalf, had hired all the shore-boats 
 
 487
 
 SIK JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 at these marinas (of which there are three hard by 
 the extremity of the Cape) for use in the night attack 
 upon the island. 
 
 " Hold you my gun, then, Princess," said I, 
 " while I swim out to the nearest " : and, wading out 
 till the dark water reached to my breast, I chose out 
 my boat, swam to her — it was but a few strokes — 
 clambered on board, caught up a sweep, and worked 
 her back to the beach. The Princess, holding our 
 two guns high, waded out to me and I lifted her on 
 board. 
 
 We heard the voices of the villagers murmuring 
 behind us while I hoisted the little sprit-sail and drew 
 the sheet home. The night-breeze fluking among the 
 gullies, filled the sail at once, fell light again and 
 left it flapping, then drew a steady breath aft, and 
 the voices were lost in the hiss of water under the 
 boat's stern. 
 
 But not until we had passed the extreme point of 
 land did we find the true breeze, which there headed 
 us lightly, blowing (as nearly as I can guess) from 
 K.N.E., yet allowed us a fair course, so that by 
 hauling the sheet close I could point well to wind- 
 ward of the fiery reflection on the water and fetch 
 the island on a single tack. It was here, as we ran 
 out of the loom of the land, that the waning moon 
 lifted her rim over the hills astern ; and it was here, 
 
 4.88
 
 THE FLAME AND THE ALTAR 
 
 as we cleared the point, that her rajs, traversing the 
 misty sea between us and Elba, touched the grey- 
 white canvas of a vessel jeeling along (as we say at 
 the fishing in Cornwall) and holding herself to wind- 
 ward for a straight run down upon the island — a 
 vessel which at first glance I recognised for the 
 Gauntlet. 
 
 Plainly she was standing by awaiting; plainly 
 then her crew — or those of them engaged for the 
 assault — were detained yet upon the island ; whence 
 (to make matters surer), there sounded, as our boat 
 ran up to it, a few loose dropping shots and a single 
 cry — a cry that travelled across to us down the lane 
 of light directing us to the quay. The blaze had died 
 down ; the upper keep, now overhanging us, stood 
 black and unlit against a sky almost as black ; but on 
 a stairway at the base of it torches were moving and 
 the flame of them shone on the slippery steps of a 
 quay to which I guided the boat and, jamming the 
 helm down with a thrust of the foot, ran forward 
 and lowered sail. 
 
 We carried more way than I had reckoned for, 
 and — the Princess having no science to help me — 
 crashed in among a press of boats huddled in the 
 black shadow alongside the quay-steps, and with such 
 force as almost to stave in the upper timbers of a 
 couple and sink them where they lay. No voice chal- 
 
 4S9
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 lenged us. I wondered at this as I gripped at the 
 dark, dew-drenched canvas to haul it inboard, and 
 while I wondered, a strong light shone down upon 
 us from the quay's edge. 
 
 A man stood there, holding a torch high over his 
 head and shading his eyes as he peered down at the 
 boat — a tall man in a Trappist habit girt high on 
 his naked legs almost to the knees. 
 
 " My father ? " I demanded. " Where is ray 
 father ? " 
 
 He made no answer, but signed to us to make our 
 landing, and waited for us, still holding the torch 
 high while I helped the Princess from one boat to 
 another and so to the slippery steps. 
 
 " My father ? " I demanded again. 
 
 He turned and led us along the quay to a stair- 
 way cut in the living rock. At the foot of it he 
 lowered his torch for a moment that we might see 
 and step aside. Two bodies lay there — two of his 
 brethren, stretched side by side and disposedly, with 
 arms crossed on their breasts, ready for burial. High 
 on the stairway, where it entered the base of a battle- 
 mented wall under an arch of heavy stonework, a 
 solitary monk was drawing water from a well and 
 sluicing down the steps. The water ran past our 
 feet, and in the dawn now paling about us I saw its 
 colour. ... 
 
 490
 
 THE FLAME AND THE ALTAR 
 
 The burnt building — it had been the Genoese bar- 
 racks — stood high on the right of the stairway. Its 
 roof had fallen in upon the flames raging through 
 its wooden floors, so that what had been but an hour 
 ago a blazing furnace was now a cold shell of masonry 
 out of which a cloud of smoke rolled lazily and hung 
 about the upper walls of the fortress. Through its 
 window-spaces, void and fire-smirched, as now and 
 again the reek lifted I saw the pale upper sky with 
 half a dozen charred ends of roof-timber sharply de- 
 fined against it — a black and broken grid ; and while 
 yet I stared upward another pair of monks crossed 
 the platform above the archway. They carried a 
 body between them — the body of a man in the Geno- 
 ese uniform — and were bearing it towards a bastion 
 on the western side, that overhung the sea. There 
 the battlements hid them from me ; but by and by I 
 heard a splash. . . . 
 
 By this time we were mounting the stairway. We 
 passed under the arch — where a door shattered and 
 wrenched from its upper hinge lay askew against the 
 wall — and climbed to the platform. From this an- 
 other flight of steps (but these were of worked gran- 
 ite) led straight as a ladder to a smaller platform at 
 the foot of the keep; and high upon these stood my 
 uncle Gervase directing half a score of monks to 
 right an overturned cannon. 
 
 491
 
 SIR JOHN" CONSTAXTIXE 
 
 His back was towards me, but he turned as I hailed 
 him by name — turned and I saw that he carried his 
 arm in a sling. He came down the steps to welcome 
 me, but slowly and with a very grave face. 
 
 " My father — where is he ? " 
 
 " He is alive, lad." My uncle took my hand and 
 pressed it. " That is to say, I left him alive. But 
 come and see. ..." He paused — my uncle was ever 
 shy in the presence of women — and with his sound 
 hand lifted his hat to the Princess. " The signorina, 
 if she will forgive a stranger for suggesting it — she 
 may be spared some pain if " 
 
 " She seeks her mother, sir," said I, cutting him 
 short ; " and her mother is the Queen Emilia." 
 
 " Your servant, signorina." My uncle bowed 
 again and with a reassuring smile. " And I am 
 happy to tell you that, so far at least, our expedition 
 has succeeded. Your mother lives, signorina — or, 
 should I say, Princess ? Yes, yes. Princess to be 
 sure — But come, the both of you, and be prepared 
 for gladness or sorrow, as may betide." 
 
 He ran up the steps and we followed him, across 
 the platform to a low doorway in the base of the 
 keep, through this, and up a winding staircase of 
 spirals, so steep and so many that the head swam. 
 Open lancet-windows — one at each complete round 
 of the stair — admitted the morning breeze, and 
 
 492
 
 THE FLAME AND THE ALTAR 
 
 through them, as I clung to the newel and climbed 
 dizzily, I had glimpses of the sea twinkling far be- 
 low. I counted these windows up to two dozen, but 
 had lost my reckoning for minutes before we emerged, 
 at my uncle's heels, upon a semicircular landing 
 and in face of an iron-studded door the hasp of which 
 he rattled gently. A voice answered from within 
 bidding him open, and very softly he thrust the door 
 wide. 
 
 The room into which we looked was of fair size 
 and in shape semicircular to match the landing with- 
 out. Two windows lit it, and between us and the 
 nearest knelt Dom Basilio busy with a web of linen 
 which he was tearing into bandages. His was the 
 voice that had commanded us to enter; and, passing 
 in, I was aware that the room had two other occu- 
 pants; for behind the door stood a truckle-bed, and 
 along the bed lay my father, pale as death, and 
 swathed in bandages, and by the foot of the bed on 
 a stool, with a spinning-wheel beside her, sat a 
 woman. 
 
 It needed no second look to tell me her name. 
 Mean cell as it was that held her, and mean her 
 seat; the worn face could belong to no one meaner 
 than a Queen, A spool of thread had rolled from 
 her hand, across the floor; yet her hands upon her 
 lap were shaped as though they held it yet. As she 
 
 493
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 sat now, rigid, with her eyes on the bed, she must 
 have been sitting for minutes. So, while Dom Ba- 
 silio snipped and rent at his bandages she gazed at 
 my father on the bed, and my father gazed back into 
 her eyes, drinking the love in them, and the faces of 
 both seemed to shine with a solemn awe. 
 
 I think we must have been standing, we three, on 
 the threshold there for close upon a minute before 
 my father turned his eyes towards me — so far be- 
 yond this life was he travelling and so far had the 
 sound of our entrance to follow and overtake his 
 dying senses. 
 
 "Prosper! . . ." 
 
 "My father!" 
 
 He lifted a hand weakly towards the bandages 
 wrapping his breast. " These — these are of her 
 spinning, lad. This is her bed they have laid me in. 
 . . . Who is it stands there behind your shoulder? " 
 
 " It is the Princess, father — You remember the 
 Princess Camilla ? Yes, madam " — I turned to the 
 Queen — " it is your daughter I bring — your daugh- 
 ter and, with your blessing, my wife." 
 
 The Queen, though her daughter knelt, did not 
 offer to embrace her, but lifted two feeble hands over 
 the bowed head as though to bless, while over her 
 hands her gaze still rested on my father. 
 
 " We have had brave work, lad," he panted. " I 
 
 494
 
 THE FLAME AND THE ALTAR 
 
 am sorry you come late for it — but you were bound 
 on your own business, eh ? " He turned with a 
 ghost of his old smile. *' Nay, child, and you did 
 right; I am not blaming you — the young to the 
 young, and let the dead bury the dead. Kiss me, 
 lad, if you can find room between these plaguy 
 bandages. Your pardon, Dom Basilio: you have 
 done your best and, if I seem ungrateful, let me 
 make amends and thank you for giving me this last, 
 best hour. . . . Indeed, Dom Basilio, I am a dead 
 man, but your bandages are tying my soul here for 
 a while, where it would stay. Gervase — " he reached 
 out a hand to my uncle, who was past hiding his 
 tears, " Gervase — brother — there needs no talk, no 
 thanks, between you and me. . . ." 
 
 I drew back and, touching Dom Basilio by the 
 shoulder, led him to the window. " He has no sin- 
 gle wound that in itself would be fatal," the Trap- 
 pist whispered ; " but a twenty that together have 
 bled him to death. He hacked his way up this stair 
 through half a score of Genoese ; at the door here, 
 there was none left to hinder him and we, having 
 found and followed with the keys, climbed over 
 bodies to find him stretched before it " 
 
 " Emilia ! " It was mv father's voice lifted in 
 triumph ; and the Queen rose at the sound of it, 
 trembling, and stood by the bed. " Emilia ! Ah, 
 
 495
 
 SIR JOHN CONSTANTINE 
 
 love — ah, Queen, bend lower! — the love we loved — 
 there, over the Taravo — it was not lost. ... It 
 meets in our children — and we — and we ^" 
 
 The Queen bent. 
 
 " O great one — O soul of my soul — and we in 
 Heaven ! " 
 
 I lifted the Princess and led her to the window 
 fronting the dawn. We looked not towards the pil- 
 low where their lips met; but into the dawn, and 
 from the dawn into each other's eyes. 
 
 THE END 
 
 496
 
 Novels and Stories by **Q** 
 
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