CHAPTER V.

ATTEMPT AT MURDER.

The fair dawn slid with crimson ray under the yellow mist; the breath of

morning stirred the pendant leaves, and on its wings it bore the tramp

of a host.

In a moment the loud _reveille_ was sounding, the thundering camp was

alive with voices, every man was on his feet.

"A surprise!" shouted St. Udo, marshaling his company. "Be ready to meet

them! Form, men!"

The soldiers under Colonel Brand's command had come straight from their

pleasant homes among the Green Mountains. Untried and but freshly

trained, one might have doubted their stability in a moment like this.

Not so their colonel; he had carefully studied these intelligent faces,

and he had read both sense and spirit there. His ringing voice carried

confidence and enthusiasm to its utterances, and was met by a cheer from

his men which reverberated from the distant forest like an echo of the

sea. In a few moments the tents were struck, the baggage vans were

loaded, and the small army was in rapid motion toward the point from

which the alarm had sounded.

In the midst of the plain they halted; their flashing arms were

presented to the wall of foliage behind which lurked the foe. They stood

there awaiting the onset, motionless as if they had sprung up from the

earth and been petrified in the first instant of their resurrection.

Then a roar of musketry broke from the emerald wall; a storm of lead

swept into the human ranks; a wild huzzah burst from the invisible

enemy, and the battle had begun. The fight was fierce and long--courage

and daring were exhibited on both sides--but when it was over, St. Udo

Brand and his brave band were famous forever. They were the victors.

* * * * *

The two colonels were smoking together before St. Udo's tent, enjoying

an hour's chat, as usual, before they parted for the night, and in the

welcome absence of Thoms, were served by a fine fellow from Vermont, who

almost worshiped his colonel.

As the friends joked and laughed with all the reckless abandon of

soldiers, a pistol-shot was heard, and simultaneously a pistol ball

whistled past their ears and buried itself in the earth at a few feet's

distance.

Both sprang to their feet, and rushing round the tent, came upon two men

in deadly strife--one in gray, the other in blue. They rolled on the

ground; each held the other's throat in a deadly grasp. It seemed

impossible to decide upon which side the victory would turn, and their

continual writhings and contortions rendered interference impossible.

But at last the struggle ended in the Federal soldier succeeding in

drawing a dagger from his breast and plunging it into his opponent's

side.

The wounded man's hold relaxed from the other's throat; he fell back

heavily with a stifled groan, and the victor rose and turned round his

haggard, white face to the brother colonels.

"_Morbleu!_ it is Thoms!" cried Calembours, in accents of incredulity.

"Well fought, gray-beard," chimed in St. Udo, in equal amazement. "You

deserve promotion. What was this Confederate soldier about?"

Thoms glared at the two colonels like a tiger, then down at his

vanquished enemy, from whose side the blood poured hotly.

"He pretended that he wanted to offer himself as a guide to the grand

army," muttered Thoms, "and we passed the pickets and came straight to

your tent to speak about it. But he tried to pistol you when he came in

sight of you, and I had just time to dash his arm up."

"Brave Thoms!" applauded Calembours. "Good Thoms!"

"What is it, Reed?" demanded St. Udo of the soldier, who was kneeling by

the fallen Confederate.

"He is trying to speak," answered Reed. "He is saying, 'No, no.'"

Thoms bent eagerly over him, with murderous look in his eyes.

The man was dying; his half-closed eyes were glazing fast, but his

bloodless lips moved convulsively, and though his life-blood welled

forth at every effort, he still strove to utter some frantic word.

"No!--he--lies!" muttered he, at last.

Thoms' trembling fingers were at his throat in a moment--Thoms' tigerish

eyes flashed out their rage.

"Let him alone," expostulated Reed. "Let the poor wretch speak."

"Off, Thoms!" thundered St. Udo, with a terrible frown.

Both colonels stooped over the Confederate soldier. St. Udo put his ear

close to the twitching lips.

"He shot the pistol off himself," muttered the man. "Before Heaven, I

swear it! He stabbed me to save himself. He did--he did!"

The life-blood oozed into his lungs and choked him; he clasped his hands

and threw them up toward Heaven, as if he called on his creator to

witness his innocence, and immediately expired.

The two friends rose and looked at Thoms.

Whiter in his grave he would never be. The veins stood out on his damp

forehead like whipcord, but he returned their fierce gaze with a dogged

firmness.

"What do you say to this charge?" demanded St. Udo.

"I say nothing," mumbled Thoms, showing his long, cruel teeth. "If

you're ready to believe a rebel against your own servant, I needn't

expect much fair play. What else would he say to revenge his death, I'd

like to know? Of course, if you're a-going to shoot me, nothing that I

can say will stop you--you're master here, as well as everywhere else."

He ground the last words out through his teeth with a venom, a fury

which belonged more to a madman than to a man supposed to be in

possession of his ordinary sanity, and he addressed them to St. Udo

exclusively.

"You deserve to die," said St. Udo, "if you have attempted our lives."

"By gar! ve vill court-martial the rogue!" cried Calembours. "He shall

be shot, the traitor!"

"If you shoot me, you shoot an innocent man," protested the old man.

"Surely Colonel Brand will give me fair play? I swear I never attempted

your lives!"

St. Udo scrutinized the eager face doubtfully, and frowned.

"You say that the Confederate, not you, fired that pistol-shot?" he

demanded.

"I do say so," answered Thoms, firmly.

"Then we give you the benefit of the doubt this time," said St. Udo,

"but warn you that you shall be well watched in future. Be off now, and

beware of treachery, for you shall not escape a second time."

The haggard face lit up with evil exultation; but Thoms cringed before

the haughty colonel, and muttered his gratitude in abject terms.

"No more need be said," cried St. Udo, with a cold sneer, "except

this--if either Colonel Calembours or I meet death treacherously, you

will be a suspected man, and will not escape, I promise you. Now, go."

Away slunk Thoms, with his head down on his breast, and the friends'

eyes met significantly.

"There goes von rascal unhung," said the chevalier.

"He's mad, Calembours--mad as Malvolio," said St. Udo. "Don't annoy

yourself over his vagaries. Ugh! how I detest his presence near me."

Reed, the soldier, filled the camp with whisperings against Thoms; over

and over the black story was repeated by a thousand camp-fires, and

wherever the wretched man slunk, he was met by suspicious looks and

loathing hatred.

He saw that everybody believed in his guilt, notwithstanding Colonel

Brand's clemency, and he quailed before the terrible position, and

shrank into himself in dumb patience.

Some hours later the command was once more on the march, and at the dawn

of day it came upon a plantation with a magnificent mansion set in the

midst.

A murmur of satisfaction ran through the weary men as a halt was

ordered, and ere long the verdant plain was white with tents, and the

lambent air was rife with the rattle of the breakfast preparations, and

fragrant with the odor of coffee and frying steaks.

Colonels Brand and Calembours looked anxiously at the pretty mansion

which peeped from foliage of the jasmine, oleander, and magnolia, and in

its spacious rooms they mentally saw their brave boys properly cared for

and nursed by the negroes of the plantation.

"We can ask for room for our wounded here until we get a chance to send

them to Washington," said St. Udo, "and leave a guard with them. Come,

Calembours, let's reconnoiter."

"With all my heart," quoth the chevalier. "I like the outside of the

_maison_ better than the inside of my tent, and, by gar! comrade, what

then will the inside of the _maison_ be? Come, then."

And with this brief prologue the quaintest performance was ushered in

which Colonel Brand had yet witnessed in his acquaintance with the

sprightly Chevalier de Calembours.

The two colonels approached through beds of sweetest flowers, and

tinkling fountains, and garden houses--the loveliest residence

imaginable, swathed in roses and creamy jasmine cups, girdled with

balconies in highest tracery, embellished with a row of pillars in front

upholding a gilded piazza roof, and entered through an imposing portal

of richest design.

There was no sign of life, however, apparent, although the upper windows

were opened to their widest extent, and the snowy curtains waved out on

the wall among the climbing roses; and St. Udo's peremptory rap upon the

door only received an answer from its echo in the sounding hall.

"_Encore!_" cried the cavalier, "they sleep soundly! Again, _mon ami_,

don't despair."

A shrill cry interrupted the little man, and sent his dilated eyes up to

the window above, from which it had proceeded.

"A woman in terror!" whispered he. "_Morbleu!_ I long to greet the owner

of such a voice. So clear, so fresh. Sweet madam. I pray you shriek

again!"

St. Udo knocked louder.

"Go, go, Vinnie," uttered a frantic voice. "It is a band of Northern

soldiers. They will blow up the house if you don't let them in!"

"_Milles diables!_" muttered the chevalier, in a startled tone. "Who

speaks with these accents? _Ma foi!_ I want the eclaircissement."

The door grudgingly opened, and a pretty quadroon girl looked out.

"Bring your mistress," ordered St. Udo.

She fearfully retreated, leaving the door open, and rushed up a broad

staircase, down which was wafted the hurried tones of a terrified

consultation.

Then she reappeared and conducted the officers into a magnificent

drawing-room assuring them that her mistress would see them in a few

moments.

"_Machere_, whose house is this?" demanded the chevalier.

"Colonel Estvan's," whispered the quadroon.

"Where is he?" asked St. Udo, sharply.

She turned pale.

"_Pouf!_ do not affright this pretty one," interposed the gallant

chevalier. "Monsieur Estvan is fighting like the devil against the

Northerners, is he not, _pauvrette_?"

"Yes," faltered she; "but madam forbade me to tell it."

"_Ouais_, madam is shrewd," laughed Calembours. "Now, _mon enfant_,

where is madam?"

"She has not arisen yet," said the trembling maid, "but will come soon

to speak with you. Madam asks will you have refreshments?"

"Ten thousand thanks. Yes, yes, _machere_, and make haste," said the

hungry Hun, with alacrity.

No sooner was the girl gone when Calembours turned his attention to the

examination of the elegantly embellished apartment, and, with an

ejaculation of delight, extolled the pictures, statuettes, and

_bijouterie_ which were scattered about with such profusion; and then he

burst into a gay old French song.

St. Udo, being seated within view of the hall, which he could see

through the half-open door, was the sole witness of what followed,

however.

A woman floated down the staircase and approached the door. Her demeanor

was expressive of the wildest emotion. She clung to the door-handle,

half-fainting, and listened breathlessly to the chevalier's song. She

seemed a vision of wonderful grace, with her rich dressing-robe huddled

up in her arms, and her long, light tresses sweeping over her shoulders,

and, with her soul standing in her passion-darkened eyes, and her

scarlet lips apart, she embodied the spirit of a Sabrina listening to

the voice of the gods.

Suddenly the fire died out of her face, and a weary change came over

it--fear, anger, and doubt struggled for the mastery--and at last she

dropped her hand, wrung it in its lovely fellow, and swiftly fled up

stairs again.

"Now, who is this woman?" mused St. Udo, "and what does she know of my

friend, the chevalier? Shall I interfere? No--I think he would scarcely

brook my meddling. In his place, I should not."

He made no remark, therefore; and when the chevalier's song came to an

end, Madam Estvan entered the room.

What a transformation!

St. Udo stood in speechless surprise.

A woman with a stout figure, keen, dark face, and pale, green eyes.

Where were the graceful, lissome figure, the dainty complexion, the

passion-darkened eyes.

And madam's hair was gray as Thoms' grizzly locks--no waving tresses of

serpentine gold saw he. Madam's lips were blue with fright, no longer

thin, scarlet beauty-lines with a string of pearls between. Madam was

old, awkward, and spoke nothing but French.

Puzzled in the extreme, St. Udo was obliged to content himself by

watching the next incident of interest, Madam Estvan's behavior to

Colonel Calembours.

They met--he with round, suspicious eyes snapping with eagerness, she

with downcast lids and brassy brow, and each performed a charming

obeisance.

"Le Chevalier de Calembours," says he.

"Madam Estvan, at your service, messieurs," returns she.

They bow again, retire a pace, their eyes meet--they both smile a

little; but Calembours' color fades to a sickly yellow, and madam's face

reddens under the brown.

"We are forced to request your house for a temporary hospital," remarks

St. Udo, breaking the utter silence.

The spell dissolves--they both turn to him, and both become natural, and

that is all St. Udo can discover in the meeting.

Madam Estvan immediately set her house at their disposal. Nothing would

give her more gratification than to be of use to the Federal soldiers,

for that she was not of the South they both must see.

She led them through the whole house, assisting them with charming

graciousness to select the most suitable apartments, and bewailing the

meagerness of her domestic force which would compel the soldiers to wait

upon themselves. But do what she would, St. Udo could not divest himself

of the conviction that she and the fair Sabrina figure were identical.

At last they returned to the lower hall and essayed to depart.

Madam Estvan accompanied them to the door with bland courtesy.

St. Udo was already opening the door, when a rattle of shot against the

roof of the piazza startled him, and a cannon-ball immediately followed

and crashed in the side of the doorway.

A fearful shriek burst from Madam Estvan; she rushed forward and clung

to the little chevalier's arm.

"_Mon Dieu!_ woman, let me go!" hissed he, with an ominous scowl.

"No, no, Ladislaus, save me, your poor Alice, who ever loved you! Don't

desert me again!" wailed the woman, frantically.

Her voice rang out pure and flute-like in the English language; her

terror tore aside the cunning mask, and plainly revealed to St. Udo the

lovely vision he had seen before.

"_Sacre!_ I suspected as much!" swore the chevalier, shaking her roughly

off. "Away, traitress!"

He sprang across the piazza, followed by St. Udo, and the wretched woman

sank, a helpless heap, upon the floor.

Looking back, each from his post, at the fairy palace, the two colonels

saw a stream of fire running along the piazza roof, licking the airy

balconies up, creeping serpent-like around the pillars, and so through

smoking portico to the senseless woman lying on the hall floor where she

had fallen.