deed, bewildering, till, suddenly, the hope of rescue through an innocent falsehood flashed in my mind, and with momentary courage, and a notion that they were French soldiers, I cried out, in tones of authority, “Make way for the French general—make way!”
Alas! for my mistake!
“Halt! surrender!” was the shout from the whole band of assailants; and with a loud oath, the so-called general sprang fearlessly from the chaise, with such speed as to knock down two of the soldiers; and piff! paff! puff! sounded on each side, as the pistol balls whizzed by my ear, filling me with a shrinking terror. The horses felt a like aversion to the noise of fire-arms, for off they dashed at full speed—a pace which my well-applied whip would not allow them soon to relinquish; that is to say, not until the clash of swords was lost in the distance, for only then, thanks to their terror and activity, did I feel myself safe.
My first care was to take a chirurgical examination of every limb, for it seemed as if the balls must have pierced my skin like a sieve. Pleasant to relate, not a hair was harmed. And now again I had time for thought and conjecture. To whom did the equipage belong? Ought I to return and incur the risk of being bayoneted and cut to pieces, or ought I to continue my journey? The last was quickly resolved on, since my duty as postillion could not require such a sacrifice, and accordingly I kept on my route, and never learned what became of the attachè, although in my travels along the same road several months after, I made diligent inquiry concerning him.
As my horses were greatly exhausted, I went along at a slow pace, till, on reaching the outskirts of another village, I drew in my reins, and took time to consider how I should next act. Should I enjoy a night’s repose at the village or hasten on my journey? What should be done with the chaise and pair, now that I had become proprietor, neither by force of arms nor robbery, but purely through accident? How dispose of the baggage which it contained? Shall it be sold, given away, or retained at its just value? For the first I had no right, for the second no inclination, for the last no money. Thus perplexed, I reached the village inn, and found that the hour was much earlier than I imagined. The stable boy came; I assisted in taking the horses from the chaise, saw them plentifully supplied with fodder, ordered a tankard of good warm beer, and stretched myself comfortably by the huge stove, determining, if driven to necessity, to pay my tavern expenses with the felt hat and frock, as the first was too small and the other too large.
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
DANGEROUS COMPANY.
The fat hostess now stood with arms akimbo before me, and politely inquired whether I intended to remain for the night? I answered no. Whether I should proceed as far as the next town? Yes. Whether I would take charge of a young lady who had arrived at the inn on foot, and was now lying down to recover from her fatigue? Certainly. And this assent proceeded from my heart, for, besides feeling happy in the thought of a gentle companion, I did not fail hearing her added hint that I should be liberally rewarded—a prospect which removed my anxiety with regard to my tavern account.
Emboldened by my seeming good nature, she next inquired if I would be willing to postpone my departure till the dawn, as the young lady was timid about night-riding, now that the roads were infested with vagrant stragglers, and every day brought to light some murder which had taken place during the preceding night.
Shudderingly I bowed an assent to this prudent suggestion, for, beside the comfort of the lady and the fact that my horses needed longer repose, it seemed that the early dawn must be the safest time for travelers, since guilt naturally shuns the holy light of morning. With these necessary preliminaries all settled, I retired to rest.
The village clock struck four as I stood beside my chaise, and while the stable boy harnessed the horses, I took a hasty view of its contents by the light of a dull lantern. I found the box carefully locked, and the proprietor had very unnecessary possession of the key, but in the pocket was stuck a scimetar sheath—the weapon was gone—a handsome Turkish pipe, an embroidered and well-filled tobacco pouch, with forget-me-not’s gracefully interwoven with the words “pensez à moi,” probably some token of remembrance won by the gallant attachè from some susceptible German maiden.
My hostess now appeared, and yawningly counted over the amount due for my night’s lodgings—an amount which was immediately settled by the young lady, who now made her appearance, and was handed into the equipage, while I leapt after, taking the seat formerly occupied by the attachè, both because it was warmer and more comfortable, as that it placed me at the side of the stranger maiden. With a cheerful adieu to my landlady, we set off on our early ride, and I endeavoured to engage my companion in conversation, but, shrinking into the corner of the carriage, she effectually set aside all my attempts at sociability by answering my modest remarks—that the weather was cold, that it was still quite dark, or that it was an unpleasant time for traveling—by a sleepy “yes” or “no,” until, at length, I was entirely left to my own reflections.
My pretty companion, mean time, (in the early dawn it was only conjecture, not certainty, that she was pretty,) inclined nearer and nearer towards me, as the chaise tossed her about, until, at length, out of compassion for the gentle sleeper, I ventured to draw a few inches nearer, and in a few minutes, when her head sank on my shoulder, (a hard pillow
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