Sue Petigru Bowen - The Actress in High Life

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He had just reached Elvas, after spending six tedious weeks at Ciudad
Rodrigo, under the surgeon's hands. He now found his own hands full of
regimental business--accumulated against his arrival--and being a
prompt man, set himself to work, though yet little fit for it.

Though he had seen Lady Mabel but once, he was not suffered to forget
her. Every young officer he met, and many of the older, had something
to say of her, some comment to make on the attractions at
headquarters, some details to give of the witty things said, and the
graceful things done by Lady Mabel; for she said many happy things,
and did many things well, and was, at all events, sure of admiration.
All this only the more convinced L'Isle that her position was very
inappropriate to one so beautiful and young.

After some days he began to think himself guilty of gross neglect in
not having called on the lady at headquarters. Disliking, however, to
make one of an admiring crowd, he showed his strategy in choosing well
his time, and called on Lady Mabel on the day and at the hour when an
inspection of the troops having been ordered, every officer was at his
post except himself--yet too weak to be expected to put himself at the
head of his regiment.

On calling, he was immediately admitted. Lady Mabel apparently had
been reading in the room in which she received him. He now saw her for
the first time alone, and she was by no means aware what a critical
examination she was undergoing. Her manner was different from what he
had expected. With quiet politeness she received his visit as one of
mere etiquette to the lady at headquarters. That repose of manner
might indicate a cold disposition, or might cover strength of
character and depth of feeling, not given to perpetual demonstrations,
but showing vigor and animation, with telling effect, at the right
time. There was no indication of that craving for company, of the
ennui at being thrown upon her own resources for a whole morning, so
common with young women brought up in a crowd, and habitually
surrounded by admirers. "As yet," thought L'Isle, "she has escaped
that." He even thought he could perceive that he had interrupted her
in some occupation, which would be resumed the moment he left her;
that his visit was a parenthesis awkwardly thrust in between, and
breaking the connection of her morning hours.

Lady Mabel expressed some surprise at his being at leisure just at
this time, but added: "I suppose you are yet too weak to burden
yourself with such mere formalities as parades and inspections."

L'Isle was a martinet, and this a military heresy. "Keeping the troops
up to the mark, fit for instant service, is not a matter of form; and
that is the end of parades and inspections. But," added he, smiling,
"I am not surprised at your mistake; for I find, on coming to Elvas,
that many of my brother officers have embraced the same opinion. They
have got tired of these formalities, and dispense with them as often
as they can. But I must not find fault with them, while indulging
myself as an invalid longer than is absolutely necessary. Confinement
and idleness have made me a little lazy."

An air of languor, and the marks of recent suffering, fully excused
what he called his laziness. They did something more for him by
exciting Lady Mabel's sympathy, putting her at ease, and inducing her
to exert herself to entertain him; and during their conversation
L'Isle was quietly on the watch for each indication of character his
fascinating companion might betray.

Presently she rested her elbow on a thick quarto on the table beside
her. L'Isle then observed that it was a Portuguese and English
dictionary, and saw a volume of Count Ericeira's works beside it.

"I see, Lady Mabel, that you do not mean to remain ignorant of the
language of the people you have come among."

"I wish not to remain ignorant. But between my own dullness and the
want of a master, I make wonderfully slow progress. It is very
provoking, particularly to a woman, to be in the midst of a people
whom she can neither talk to nor understand."

"It is certainly better," said L'Isle, "to learn to fight before we go
into battle, and to speak a people's language before we throw
ourselves among them."

"Very true. But I have been thrown very unexpectedly among these
Portuguese. I came out merely to visit my father, you know. That is,
he sent for me, not having seen me for years. That must account," said
she, laughing, "for my joining the brigade. I am not even a volunteer
among you; nor shall I subject myself to the articles of war."

"You are a traveler, then, and not a soldier," said L'Isle.

"I am a daughter," she answered, "and in that character I come. But,
beside the pleasure of being with my father, an opportunity to see
outlandish places and people was no small inducement. I have my full
share of curiosity and love of adventure; I want, too, to know the
people I am among; and that is impossible, without speaking their
language."

"But I think you are misdirecting your efforts, and wasting your
time," said L'Isle. "The Spanish will be of more permanent value, and
almost equally useful here on the frontier. The one is a language
widely spread and a noble one. The other, though exceedingly well
adapted to conversation, has but a narrow range, and may one day be
merged in the superior tongue. The literature of the Spanish, too, is
the richer, though both are poor enough."

"I am glad to hear you say that; for I have already made some little
progress in Spanish. I have read a few books, and moulded my tongue to
the utterance of a long list of conversational phrases. I would now
gladly exchange my French for Spanish or Portuguese. What a pity it
is, that the languages of different countries are not, like their
coins, exchangeable one for another."

"Unfortunately," said L'Isle, laughing, "that exchange is a slow
process; and exact equivalents are seldom found."

"It is too provoking," continued Lady Mabel, "after having been at so
much pains to learn French, not to be at liberty to go to France, to
show the natives how well I can speak their tongue. True, I have
access to their books, which are, perhaps, better than themselves."

"That is not saying much for their books," said L'Isle contemptuously.
"Their literature is much overvalued. Its chief merits are variety and
bulk."

"Do you think so? That is not the opinion I have heard expressed."

"Very true. The world is full of false opinions and bad taste. But a
literature, whose great epic poem is the _Henriade_, may be abundant
but cannot be rich. A language, in which you cannot make verse without
the jingle of rhyme, may be clear and copious, but is wanting in
melody and force. Take away from French literature Gil Blas and the
_memoires_, and were all the rest lost, its place might be easily
filled with something better. With these exceptions, there is little
worth doing into English or any other tongue. And after all, Gil Blas
is only a renegade Spaniard in a French uniform; and, undoubtedly, it
is not genius, but merely their intense vanity and egotism, that
enables them to excel in writing their own memoirs. Besides, unlike
most other people, their books are as immoral as themselves."

"Well," said Lady Mabel, looking at him in some surprise, yet half
convinced of the truth of what he had been saying. "It must certainly
be a great comfort to you to entertain so thorough a contempt and
dislike for the people you have to fight against."

"Perhaps it is," said L'Isle, laughing at her observation and his own
warmth. "It may not be in the spirit of Christianity or of chivalry,
but it is exceedingly true to our nature, to dislike our enemies, and
heartily, too. But to return to our subject. You wish to learn
Spanish, and I can provide you a capable and zealous teacher."

"I am much obliged to you; where is he to be found?"

"I will bring him here, any day and hour you may appoint."

"Then I will fix an early hour, and take a lesson every day."

"The truth is," said L'Isle, hesitating and somewhat confused, "it is
very difficult to find a Spaniard who speaks English well enough to
teach you his own tongue."

"But you said just now that would find me such a master."

"But not a Spaniard. I hear," said L'Isle, putting a bold face on the
matter, "that several of my brother officers have been permitted to
make themselves useful to you in various capacities. For instance, on
looking round this room, I see more than one achievement of Captain
Cranfield's, and hear that Major Lumley's skill in music has been
called into play. Now I am behind no one in zeal for your service."

"So you, yourself, are the Spanish master, whom you, yourself, would
recommend?"

"I assure you I do not know where to find another."

"Your offer is exceedingly tempting," said Lady Mabel, bowing
ironically low. "But I am too much in debt already to the gentlemen in
his majesty's service. To turn one of his colonels into my Spanish
master would be seriously to misemploy his precious time. I would feel
that I was robbing my country. Is it not positive treason to aid and
abet the king's enemies? Then it is negative treason, to divert from
his service any of the king's friends."

"But you forget that I am an invalid, not yet fit for duty."

"You are getting more fit for it every day. My invalid tutor would
become a sound colonel long before I had made much progress under his
tuition."

"But I would not object to relaxing from my military duties, and
prolonging my invalid condition in your service."

"Let me beg that you do no such thing, but hasten to get so well as to
forget your wounds, and the awkward occasion on which you received
them."

"Why," said L'Isle, in some surprise, "what have you heard of that
occasion?"

"Perhaps you, like some other people, do not care to be reminded of
your blunders," said Lady Mabel, mischievously.

"Blunders?" said L'Isle, "I do not see how a soldier can avoid
exposing himself occasionally to the risk of being shot, sabred, or
bayoneted. What blunder of mine have you heard of?"

"Merely that on the approach of a French column, you, instead of
rejoining the main body, in great alarm hid yourself and your men in a
little Spanish village too mean to have a name. The French found you
out, and kept you shut up there in great trepidation for five or six
hours, while they were cutting away your barricades, beating in the
doors, and tearing off the roofs of the houses. Your case was as
desperate as that of a rat in a trap; and when your friends came to
your relief, they had to knock a great many of the French in the head
before they could persuade them to let you slip out. But, by some
lucky misunderstanding at headquarters, you were soon after made a
lieut. colonel."

"Do you know," said L'Isle, laughing, "that this is, to me, quite a
new version of that little affair? Did you hear whether we did the
French any damage, while they beset us so closely?"

"Nothing was said on that score. So I suppose you did them little
harm."

"It is lucky for me that your informant had not the reporting of this
affair at headquarters."

"It is said that you had that more adroitly done by your own friends."

"They give me credit at least for good diplomacy," said L'Isle. "Or,
at all events, it is a good thing to have a friend at court--that is,
at the elbow of the commander-in-chief. And it seems that I have one
there. But still you make a great mistake in declining my services as
a teacher of the Spanish tongue. I may be a blundering soldier, but
have made myself thoroughly master of the languages of the Peninsula,
and have a decided aptitude for teaching. Let me begin by warning you
against a blunder we English always commit, in trying to speak a
tongue not our own, with the mouth half open, and the hands in the
pockets. Now, when you address a foreigner in his own tongue, speak
with much noise and vociferation, opening your mouth wide and using
much action. The ideas you cannot convey in words, you must
communicate by gesticulation, the more emphatic the better."

"What!" said Lady Mabel. "Would you have me go scolding and
gesticulating at every foreign fellow I meet with, and become
notorious throughout Elvas as the British virago?"

"There is no danger of that," said L'Isle. "They would only say that
you have as much vivacity as a native, and soon begin to understand
you."

"I have made the acquaintance of some ladies of Elvas. As yet our
intercourse has been limited to a few formal visits, and a few set
phrases mingled with pantomime. But some of them are disposed to be
very sociable, and, through their teaching, I hope to be able soon to
bear my part in the most sprightly and sentimental conversation. You
shall see what an apt scholar I am under the tuition of my own sex."

"I trust you will be on your guard against cultivating too great an
intimacy with these people," said L'Isle. "You do not know what
Portuguese and Spanish ladies are."

"What are they?"

"A thorough knowledge of them would only satisfy you that they are
gross in language, particularly the Spaniards, indelicate in their
habits, careless of propriety, lax in morals, and, with all their
grace, vivacity, and elegance, very unfit companions for you. In
short, the purity of mind, true refinement of manners, and scrupulous
propriety of conduct we look for in a lady, are almost unknown among
them."

"What a shocking picture you paint of our friends here. You must know
them exceedingly well," added Lady Mabel, in innocent surprise, "to
justify your abusing them so roundly."

"By report--only by report," said L'Isle hastily.

"But I have had many opportunities of judging of the grossness of
their conversation and manners. The Portuguese ladies are not gross in
language, like the Spaniards; but are quite on a par with them in
essentials, or rather the want of essentials."

"They are not at all indebted to your report, which has used them very
roughly. You, perhaps, have been unfortunate in the samples you have
met with; and, at least, do not know my new friends here in Elvas."

"I confess that I do not."

"Yet I must own that you have damped my ardor to cultivate an intimacy
with them. Yet such is the situation of the two or three of our own
ladies here, that these allies of ours afford the only female society
at my command."

"In that respect your situation here must seem very strange to you."

"Strange, indeed, at first--but now I am getting accustomed to it. I
begin to feel as if I held an official position in the brigade. I
make great progress in knowledge of military affairs--am quite
familiar, as you may perceive, with the details of the last campaign,
and begin to understand both the technical language and the slang of
our comrades; who give me plenty of their company, and right merry
companions they are. But, perhaps," said she, looking at him
doubtingly, "you may be able to understand me, and excuse my weakness,
when I confess that there is still so much of the woman left in me
that I do often long to slam the door in the face of the brigade, and
have a good long confidential chat with some of my own sex."

"The want of that must be a sad privation to you."

"My only resource now is to get old Moodie and Jennie Aiken, my maid,
together, and have a good home talk with them, which, for the time,
may blot out the map of Portugal, and carry us back to Scotland."

"After that avowal," said L'Isle, rising from his chair, "I had better
not trespass on you longer, lest I should have the door slammed in my
face the next time I visit you." And he bowed and put an end to his
visit.

As he rode homeward, he again brought Lord Strathern to trial, and
soon found a verdict against him, of utter incapacity to take charge
of such a daughter as heaven had blessed him with. L'Isle felt
strongly tempted to take the vacant guardianship upon himself--but did
not see just then how it was to be brought about.

He was buried in these thoughts when the sound of horses' feet aroused
him; and looking up he saw Lord Strathern riding down toward him from
the city gate, followed by a party of young officers. His lordship
drew up as he approached, and said: "L'Isle, I am glad to see you look
so much like taking the field again. Why, your ride has actually
brought a color into your cheeks." In truth, L'Isle had turned
somewhat red on seeing suddenly before him the very man he had just
been condemning in secret tribunal. "We cannot let you play invalid
much longer," his lordship continued. "We begin to miss you sadly. By
the by, I have just been inspecting the troops. Their condition is not
exactly what I would wish. But the less we say about the
matter--only--I am glad the French are not just now in the
neighborhood."

"But they have not told us how long they meant to stay away,"
suggested L'Isle.

"We won't see them soon, however," said his lordship carelessly.
"Well, L'Isle, I will begin to put you on duty by having you to dine
with me to-morrow. These noisy fellows I have with me to-day would be
too much for your nerves. We will have a quieter party, and I will not
insist on your doing your full turn of duty at the bottle."

"I will obey you, my lord, with the greatest pleasure, particularly as
you are so considerate as to the bottle. I have just been paying my
respects, for the first time, to Lady Mabel."

"Well, if you did not bore her by the length of your visit--a thing
she sometimes complains of--she will be glad to see you again
to-morrow." And Lord Strathern rode off--with a merry party at his
heels.

CHAPTER IV.

_Celia_.--Here comes Monsieur Le Beau.
_Rosalind_.--With his mouth full of news.
_Celia_.--Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
_Rosalind_.--Then shall we be news-crammed.

_As You Like It._

The next morning Colonel L'Isle was seated in his room, wrapped in his
cloak, with a _brasero_ filled with wood embers at his feet; for it
was one of those windy, chilly days, not uncommon in this fluctuating
climate, and he was still invalid enough to be keenly sensitive to
these sudden changes of temperature. He was, too, so completely
wrapped up in his meditations, that his servant had twice to announce
that the adjutant was in the next room.

"Here, already!" said L'Isle; "I did not expect him until ten
o'clock." He looked at his watch. "But it is ten already. Here have I
been thinking for two hours, and have never once thought of the
regiment. I am acquiring a sad habit of day-dreaming, or, rather, my
mind has not yet recovered its tone. Ask Lieutenant Meynell to walk in
here."

The regimental business was soon dispatched, and the adjutant, who was
a capital newsmonger, began to detail the local news of the
day. L'Isle liked to keep himself informed of what was going on around
him, on the easy terms of listening to the adjutant. But this morning
he seemed to tire soon at the details of small intelligence, much of
which was of a sporting character, such as this: "Warren has succeeded
in buying the famous dog at Estremoz; they say he will collar a wolf
without ceremony, and throttle him single-handed; and he has the knack
of so seizing a wild boar, that he can never bring his tusks to bear
upon him."

"I hope," said L'Isle, "that Warren will show us many trophies of his
prowess, or his dog's rather, in the hunt."

"He had to pay well for him, though. Fifty moidores was the least his
owner would take for him."

"I sincerely trust that Warren will get fifty moidores' worth of sport
out of him."

"He went out yesterday to try him," continued Meynell, "but Hatton,
who was with him, got such a fall (he is a villainous rider, without
knowing it), that they had great trouble in getting him back here, and
it broke up the day's sport."

"Is he much hurt?" asked L'Isle.

"No permanent injury. But he fell on his head, and, at first, they
thought the time come for firing blank-cartridges over him."

"I trust, if Hatton is bent on dying in the field, he will choose some
occasion when they do not fire blank-cartridges."

As his colonel seemed little interested in his sporting intelligence,
the adjutant turned to a topic that looked a little more like
business. "I see that Commissary Shortridge has got back."

"Ah!" said L'Isle, suppressing a yawn, "where has he been?"

"He has been to Lisbon."

"What carried him there?" mechanically asked the colonel, evidently
not caring to know.

"Business of the commissariat, he says."

"So I suppose," said L'Isle, carelessly.

"But I suppose no such thing," said Meynell. "The first thing these
fellows think of is not the supply of the troops, but their own
comfort. He only went to Lisbon to bring his wife here."

"What!" said L'Isle, with sudden interest, "is Mrs. Shortridge in
Elvas?"

"Yes. She came with him last night."

"And is she to remain here any time?"

"As long as we stay," answered Meynell, surprised at the interest his
superior now showed at his intelligence. "That is, if Shortridge can
establish her here comfortably. You know, since the king's money has
been passing through his hands, and some of it has stuck to his palms,
he has begun to give himself airs. He speaks with the most gentlemanly
disgust of the narrow and inconvenient lodgings they are obliged to
put up with. He told me they were in the dirtiest part of the town, in
the midst of the filthiest of these Portuguese, and sooner than let
Mrs. Shortridge stay there, he will take her to Portalegre, or back to
Lisbon."

"There will not be the least need of that," said L'Isle, quickly;
"this house is large and convenient enough"--and he looked round the
apartment into the room beyond--"and is one of the best situated in
Elvas."

"But you are occupying it yourself, sir. What good will that do,
Shortridge?"

"Oh, I will give it up to Shortridge. It is quite thrown away on a
bachelor like me. Now I am on duty again, I prefer being near the
regiment, and shall take rooms at the barracks."

"Shortridge will be exceedingly obliged to you. But," added Meynell,
fishing for information, "I did not think you cared a farthing whether
the commissary got into good quarters or no."

"The commissary!" said L'Isle, looking round on his companion with an
air of surprise; then he added, in a tone of contempt, "he may lie in
a ditch. Many a better man has done it. It is Mrs. Commissary for whom
I would find good quarters."

"Oh, indeed!" said Meynell, elevating his eyebrows a good deal, "I
overlooked that. But I was not aware that you had ever seen her."

"Oh, many times: in Lisbon, last year. Indeed, on one occasion I did
her a well-timed service."

"What was that?--if I may be allowed to ask."

"Why, Mrs. Shortridge, though an excellent woman, is a little
afflicted with the disease of sight-seeing, and had thrust herself,
with a party of other heretics, into the Patriarchal Church, to
witness the rending of the veil. Do you know what that means, Meynell?
I believe you are not well drilled in theology."

"Not popish theology."

"Nor any other, I fear. However, a large detachment of the live and
dead saints were there, and, certainly, half the rabble of Lisbon. In
the rush of this devout crowd, Mrs. Shortridge got separated from her
party, and, between alarm and exhaustion, fell, fainting, on the
pavement. She would soon have been trampled to death, had I not picked
her up and carried her out bodily. I had to swear awfully at the
rabble to make them give way."

"That was no small service," said Meynell; then, glancing at the
colonel's thin form, "I am afraid you could not repeat it just now.
Mrs. Shortridge is a plump little body."

"I suppose not. Yet there is no knowing what exertions a man might
make to save a pretty woman. However, she has been very grateful ever
since, and whenever we meet we are excellent friends. I am glad
Shortridge has brought her here. She is a different sort of person
from himself. She has some very pleasant traits of character--in fact,
she is a very good woman," and he sank into a reverie, apparently
thinking over Mrs. Commissary's good qualities.

Meynell had nothing more to tell, and, hopeless of extracting any
thing more, now took leave. But when he had gone out of the room, his
colonel called him back to inquire where Shortridge was now lodged.
Having given as precise an answer as he could to this question, the
adjutant departed, trying as he went, to frame such a definition of a
good woman as would fit his view of this case.

This little conversation seemed to have revived L'Isle a good deal. He
looked out of the window and pronounced the wind to have fallen, and
that, after all, it was a very pleasant day. Calling his servant to
bring his boots and brush his clothes, he was soon after on the
_praca_ of Elvas.

This exhibited a busy scene; for the troops quartered in Elvas created
a market, and drew a concourse of people from the surrounding
country. Asses laden with, or just unladen of, country produce, were
grouped about the square, each with his nose tied up in a net, that he
might not eat his saddle or panniers. Bullock carts were seen here and
there, among them, many of the oxen lying down with their legs doubled
under them, taking advantage of the halt to enjoy their _siesta_. A
crowd of peasants hovered about, and the sonorous Spanish mingling
with the abrupt and nasal Portuguese, the short black jackets and
_montero_ caps, among the hats and vests, generally brown, showed that
many of these men had come across the Spanish border. Here was the pig
merchant, with his unquiet and ear-piercing merchandise, and the wine
merchant, with his pitchy goat-skin sacks, full of, and flavoring the
_vinho verde_ Colonel Bradshawe so much abhorred. Here were peasant
women, with poultry, and sausages, and goats'-milk cheese; and young
girls, persuasively offering for sale the contents of their baskets,
oranges, chesnuts, bolotas, and other fruits and nuts. Here, in the
crowd, was a monk; there, a secular priest, and of friars a plenty.
And here, in the midst of them, were the broad-faced English soldiers,
touching their caps as L'Isle passed among them--their faces growing
broader as they remarked to each other, that there was still something
left of the colonel. Here, too, were the lounging citizens of Elvas,
who might have personified _otium cum dignitate_, or plain English
laziness, but for the presence of some of the gentlemen of the
brigade, who were sauntering about with their hands in their pockets,
as if caring for nothing, and having nothing to do, or at once too
proud and lazy to do it--not much caring which way their steps led
them, but expecting, of course, every one to get out of their way. Yet
a spark of interest would, at times, shine out from them at the sight
of a neat figure, or a pretty face, among the rustic belles, whose
love of bright and strongly contrasted colors in dress, attracted the
eye, and gave variety to the scene.

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