S. Weir Mitchell

“ Together they moved forward, and while De Courval stood by in silence, Schmidt, kneeling beside Carteaux, turned over his insensible body.
"He is not dead," he said, looking up at René.
"I am sorry. Your coming disturbed my aim. I am sorry he is alive."
"And I am not; but not much, der Teufel! The ball has torn his arm, and is in the shoulder. If he does live, he is for life a maimed man. This is vengeance worse than death." As he spoke, he ripped open Carteaux' sleeve. "Saprement! how the beast bleeds! He will fence no more." ”

“ Perhaps only Schmidt recognized the grace and power of the group on the porch.
The warm August evening was near its close, and a dark storm, which hung threateningly over the Jersey shore, broke up the party. Warned by rolling thunder, the three men went away in peaceful talk.
"The hate they have buried in their bellies," said Schmidt; "but, René, they are of the peerage, say what they may. Equality! Der gute Himmel! All men equal—and why not all women, too! He left that out. Equal before the law, perhaps—not his slaves; before God, no—nor man. Does he think Hamilton his equal? ”

“ The cries and laughter were soon lost to the three skaters, and a vast solitude received them as they passed down the river.
"Ah, the gray moonlight and the gray ice!" said Schmidt, "a Quaker night, Pearl."
"And the moon a great pearl," she cried.
"How one feels the night!" said the German. "It is as on the Sahara. Only in the loneliness of great spaces am I able to feel eternity; for space is time." He had his quick bits of talk to himself. ”

“ The girl in the garden heard once more his bits of French song, and when June came with roses he was able to lie on the lower porch, swinging at ease in a hammock sent by Captain Biddle, and it seemed [Pg 261] as if the world were all kindness. As he lay, Schmidt read to him, and he missed only Margaret, ordered out to the country in the care of Aunt Gainor, while, as he grew better, he had the strange joy of senses freshened and keener than in health, as if he were reborn to a new heritage of tastes and odors, the priceless gift of wholesome convalescence. ”

“ When alone, Schmidt said to himself: "Some day he will lose his head, and then the tiger will leap. It was clear from what I saw, and who could sit quiet and give it up? Not I. A duel? If this man I have learned to love had Du Vallon's wrist of steel or mine, it would be easy to know what to do. Ah, if one could know that rascal's fence—or if I—no; the boy would never forgive me; and to cheat a man out of a just vengeance were as bad as to cheat him of a woman's love." ”

“ He said, "Herr Schmidt, can a man conceive of God as having enjoyment?"
"If you were God, the all-creative, the eternal power, the inconceivable master, would you not make for yourself pleasure, when you could make or mar all things? Does it shock you? Or has the thought of your church the clipped wings of an eagle that must ever stumble on the earth and yearn for the free flight of the heavens? Terrible shears are creeds."
De Courval was new to such comments. ”

“ Jefferson's brow rose a little, the hazel eyes confessed some merriment, and a faint smile went over the face of Hugh Wynne as Logan said: "I cannot recommend it to thee, Mary Swanwick."
"Thank thee," she said simply. "There is too much reading of vain books among Friends. I fear I am sometimes a sinner myself; but thy aunt, Mistress Gainor, Hugh, laughs at me, and spoils the girl with books—too many for her good, I fear."
"Ah, she taught me worse wickedness than books when I was young," said Wynne; "but your girl is less easy to lead astray. ”

“ Schmidt was silent, and took the Wynne Madeira with honest appreciation, while the young man ate his dinner, amazed at the display of bad manners.
Then the girl beside him said in a half-whisper: "Fiddlesticks! Why do people say that? The violin is hard to play, I hear. Why do men say fiddlesticks?"
De Courval did not know, and Aunt Gainor asked, "What is that, Margaret?"
"I was saying that the violin must be hard to play."
"Ah, yes, yes," returned the hostess, puzzled, while Schmidt smiled, and the talk fell upon mild gossip and the last horse-race—and so on to more perilous ground. ”

“ But Friend Schmidt is only too generous, and we have what contents me, and should content Margaret, if it were not for the vain worldliness Gainor Wynne puts into the child's head. Will they like Friend Schmidt?"
"He will like them, Mary Swanwick. You are a fair French scholar yourself. Perhaps they may teach you—they are pleasant people." He, too, had been captured by the sweet French tongue he loved.
"They have some means," he added, "and I shall see about the young man. He seems more English than French, a staid young fellow. You may make a Quaker of him, Mary." ”

“ Miss Margaret looks ill. No one could endure it, and in the counting-house it is dreadful, and with no work to distract me."
"The Pearl goes again to Gray Court to-morrow," said the German.
"Indeed."
"Yes. I shall miss her, but it is as well. And, you, René—it is not the heat. Why do you put me off with such excuses?"
"Well, no. It is of course that villain," and he told of Girard and the invitation.
"René, a day will come when you will meet that man, and then the thing will somehow end. You cannot go on suffering as you are doing."
"I know; but a devil of indecision pursues me." ”

“ It was nine o'clock when, hearing foils ringing and laughter, they went up-stairs in an old warehouse on the north side of Dunker's Court, and entered presently a large room amid a dozen of what were plainly French gentlemen, who were fencing in pairs and as merry as if no heads of friends and kindred were day by day falling on the guillotine. Schmidt knew them all and had helped many. They welcomed him warmly.
"Bonjour, monsieur. We amuse ourselves well, and forget a little," said Du Vallon. "Ah, the Vicomte de Courval! ”

“ How they could be the better by the gossip of this sacré Jacobin actor in the rôle of a minister the bon Dieu alone knows."
René laughed. "You are descriptive, Marquis."
"Who would not be? But, my dear De Courval, you must regret that you were not the remarkable highwayman who stole Fauchet's eloquence and left a gold watch and seals; but here comes Mr. Randolph. He may explain it; at all events, if he confides to you the name of that robber, send the man to me. I will pay five dollars apiece for Jacobin scalps. Adieu. My regrets that you are not the man." ”

“ Oh, rare, very rare. Not quite fit for a young woman—a head veil."
"Are they all mine, Mother?" cried Margaret.
"Yes, my child."
"Then, Madame," she said, with rising color and engaging frankness, "may I not have the honor to offer thee the lace?"
"Why not?" said Gainor, pleased at the pretty way of the girl.
"Oh, quite impossible, child," said the vicomtesse. "It is quite too valuable."
"Please!" said Pearl. "It would so become thee."
"I really cannot."
"Thy roquelaure," laughed Mrs. Swanwick, "was—well—I did remonstrate. Why may not we too have the pleasure of extravagance?" ”

“ She went out to the hall and let in Madame de Courval, saying: "I have waited for thee. Wilt thou come into the withdrawing-room? I have that to say which may no longer be delayed."
"I myself had meant to talk with you of this unfortunate matter. It is as well to have it over." So saying she followed her hostess. Both women sat upright in the high-backed chairs, the neat, gray-clad Quaker lady, tranquil and rosy; the black figure of the Huguenot dame, sallow, with grave, unmoved features, a strange contrast.
"I shall be pleased to hear you, Madame Swanwick." ”

“ De Courval smiled. "I accept, sir; we have never been rich, and I ought to say that we are not of the greater noblesse. When our fortunes fell away, I worked with our peasants in the field. I have no false pride, and my sword is in a box in Mrs. Swanwick's attic. I fancy, sir, that I shall have no use for it here. Why gentlemen should prefer to teach French or dancing to good steady work I cannot understand."
[Pg 56]
"Nor I," said Wynne, beginning to like this grave and decisive young noble. ”

“ At last the young man lost patience and said: "I am not, gentlemen, a Jacobin. I am of that noblesse which of their own will gave up their titles. I am—or was—the Vicomte de Courval."
There was an uproar. "We are citizens, we would have you to know. Damn your titles! We are citizens, not gentlemen."
"That is my opinion," said De Courval, rising. Men hooted at him and shook fists in his face. "Take care!" he cried, backing away from the table. In the midst of it came the landlord. "He is a royalist," they cried; "he must go or we go." ”

“ An accident to De Courval was possible; well, perhaps his death. He foresaw even this as possible, since duels in that time were not the serio-comic encounters of the French duel of to-day.
As Schmidt sat in self-counsel as to what was advisable he felt with curious joy that his affection for the young noble was disturbing his judgment of what as a gentleman he would have advised. The situation was, as he saw, of terrible significance. A large experience of men and events failed to assist him to see his way. ”

“ What she said to her mother may be easily guessed. The vicomtesse was as usual at the evening meal, where René exerted himself to talk of his journey to Mrs. Swanwick, less interested than was her way.
The day drew to a close. The shadows came with coolness in the air. The endless embroidery went on, the knitting needles clicked, and a little later in the dusk, Margaret smiled as René went down the garden to the river, a towel on his arm. ”

“ Of a sudden, as if alarmed, the Stars and Stripes came down, a tricolor went up, and the Marie turned tail for the Jersey coast. De Courval watched the game with interest. The captain enjoyed it, as men who gamble on sea chances enjoy their risks, and said, laughing, "I wonder does that man know the coast? He's a morsel reckless."
The corvette went about and followed. "Halloa! He's going to talk!" A cannon flash was followed by a ball, which struck the rail.
"Not bad," said the captain, and turning, saw De Courval on the deck. "Are you hit, man?" he cried. ”

“ When on the next Sunday Madame de Courval was about to set out for the Swedes' church, Mrs. Swanwick said, "It is time to go to meeting, my child."
"I am not going, mother."
"But thou didst not go last First Day."
"No. I cannot, mother. May I go with madame?"
"Why not?" said Schmidt, looking up from his book. And so the Pearl went to Gloria Dei.
"They have lost a good Quaker by their impertinence," said Schmidt to himself. "She will never again go to meeting." ”

“ Swanwick had been long used to defer to the German's opinions, but looking far past love's limited horizon, the widow thought of the certain anger of the mother, of the trap she in her pride would think set for her son by designing people, her prejudices intensified by the mere fact of the poverty which left her nothing but exaggerated estimates of her son and what he was entitled to demand of the woman he should some day marry. And too, René had often spoken of a return to France. ”

“ René smiled. "Why did you leave us alone to-night? It is you, sir, who are responsible."
"Potstausend! Donnerwetter! You saucy boy! Go to bed and repent. There are only two languages in which a man can find good, fat, mouth-filling oaths, and the English oaths are too naughty for a good Quaker house."
"You seem to have found one, sir. It sounds like thunder. We can do it pretty well in French."
"Child's talk, prattle. Go to bed. What will the mother say? Oh, not yours. Madame Swanwick has her own share of pride. Can't you wait a while?" ”

“ A great eagle nose overhanging a sharp chin, brought near to it by the toothless jaws of age, gave to the side face a queer look of rapacity, contradicted by the refinement and serene kindliness of the full face now turned upon the German.
"Friend Schmidt," he said, "our young friend, we are told, has been unwise and exhibited herself among those of the world in unseemly attire. There are those of us who, like Friend Logan, are setting a bad example in their attire to the young. ”

“ There was no fight in the slighter man, who lay stunned and bleeding, while René struggled in Schmidt's strong arms, wild with rage.
"You have done enough," said the German; "come!" René, silent, himself again, stared at the fallen man.
"What is the meaning of this outrage!" said De la Forêt. "Your name, sir?"
"I am the Vicomte de Courval," said René, perfectly cool. "You will find me at Madame Swanwick's on Front Street."
Carteaux was sitting upon the sidewalk, still dazed and bleeding. The crowd looked on. "He hits hard," said one. ”

“ Of course you would have to fly, leave your mother alone; or, to be honest with you, if you were arrested, the death of this dog would be, as men would look at it, the murder of an official of the French legation. You know the intensity of party feeling here. You would be as sure to die by the gallows as any common criminal; and—there again is the mother to make a man hesitate. ”

“ At the signal-guns, thousands of patriots gathered in front of the State House, and in what then was called the Mall, to the south of it. Schmidt and the young people paused on the skirts of the noisy crowd, where were many full of liquor and singing the "Marseillaise" with drunken variations of the tune. "A sight to please the devil of laughter," said Schmidt. "There are saints for the virtues, why not devils for men's follies? The mischief mill for the grinding out of French Jacobins from Yankee grain will not run long. Let us go on around the Mall and get before these foolish folk. ”

“ Schmidt whistled low. "I beg your pardon, Mistress Gainor. Cannot you stop him? The fool! What does he propose to do?"
"I do not know. He has an odd admiration for De Courval, and that is strange, for he never contradicts him."
"The admiration of a coward for a brave man—I have known that more than once. He will do Heaven knows what, and end in making mischief enough." ”

“ Friend Marguerite Swanwick desires to be excused of the Vicomte de Courval," and, smiling, she swept the courtesy of reply to his bow as the autumn leaves fell from the gathered skirts.
[Pg 239]
"As long as thou art thou, it will be hard to obey," he said, and she making no reply, they wandered homeward through level shafts of sunlight, while fluttering overhead on wings of red and gold, the cupids of the forest enjoyed the sport, and the young man murmured: "Thou and thee," dreaming of a walk with her in his own Normandy among the woodlands his boyhood knew. ”

“ The man lay silent and senseless as the German drew from Carteaux' pocket a handkerchief and tied it around his arm. "There is no big vessel hurt. Ach, der Teufel! What errand was he about?" A packet of paper had fallen out with the removal of the handkerchief. "It is addressed to him. We must know. I shall open it."
"Oh, surely not!" said René.
Schmidt laughed. "You would murder a man, but respect his letters." ”

“ I am the Vicomte de Courval. In the massacre at Avignon on the twelfth of September, 1791, when my father was about to be released by Jourdan, your voice alone called for his condemnation. I saw him die, butchered before my eyes. This is why I struck you.
Louis René de Courval.
"That will do," said Schmidt. "He shall have it to-night. You will have a week to spend with Du Vallon. No prudent man would meet you in the condition in which you left him." ”