the grenadiers, their Captain at their head; in the centre
were the colours, borne by the senior and junior Ensigns
--then George came marching at the head of his company.
He looked up, and smiled at Amelia, and passed
on; and even the sound of the music died away.
CHAPTER XXXI
In Which Jos Sedley Takes Care of His Sister
Thus all the superior officers being summoned on duty
elsewhere, Jos Sedley was left in command of the little
colony at Brussels, with Amelia invalided, Isidor, his
Belgian servant, and the bonne, who was maid-of-all-work
for the establishment, as a garrison under him. Though
he was disturbed in spirit, and his rest destroyed by
Dobbin's interruption and the occurrences of the morning,
Jos nevertheless remained for many hours in bed,
wakeful and rolling about there until his usual hour of
rising had arrived. The sun was high in the heavens, and
our gallant friends of the --th miles on their march,
before the civilian appeared in his flowered dressing-gown
at breakfast.
About George's absence, his brother-in-law was very
easy in mind. Perhaps Jos was rather pleased in his heart
that Osborne was gone, for during George's presence, the
other had played but a very secondary part in the
household, and Osborne did not scruple to show his contempt
for the stout civilian. But Emmy had always been good
and attentive to him. It was she who ministered to his
comforts, who superintended the dishes that he liked,
who walked or rode with him (as she had many, too
many, opportunities of doing, for where was George?)
and who interposed her sweet face between his anger
and her husband's scorn. Many timid remonstrances had
she uttered to George in behalf of her brother, but the
former in his trenchant way cut these entreaties short.
"I'm an honest man," he said, "and if I have a feeling
I show it, as an honest man will. How the deuce, my
dear, would you have me behave respectfully to such a
fool as your brother?" So Jos was pleased with George's
absence. His plain hat, and gloves on a sideboard, and
the idea that the owner was away, caused Jos I don't
know what secret thrill of pleasure. "HE won't be
troubling me this morning," Jos thought, "with his
dandified airs and his impudence."
"Put the Captain's hat into the ante-room," he said
to Isidor, the servant.
"Perhaps he won't want it again," replied the lackey,
looking knowingly at his master. He hated George too,
whose insolence towards him was quite of the English
sort.
"And ask if Madame is coming to breakfast," Mr.
Sedley said with great majesty, ashamed to enter with a
servant upon the subject of his dislike for George. The
truth is, he had abused his brother to the valet a score
of times before.
Alas! Madame could not come to breakfast, and cut
the tartines that Mr. Jos liked. Madame was a great deal
too ill, and had been in a frightful state ever since her
husband's departure, so her bonne said. Jos showed his
sympathy by pouring her out a large cup of tea It was
his way of exhibiting kindness: and he improved on this;
he not only sent her breakfast, but he bethought him
what delicacies she would most like for dinner.
Isidor, the valet, had looked on very sulkily, while
Osborne's servant was disposing of his master's baggage
previous to the Captain's departure: for in the first place
he hated Mr. Osborne, whose conduct to him, and to
all inferiors, was generally overbearing (nor does the
continental domestic like to be treated with insolence as
our own better-tempered servants do), and secondly, he
was angry that so many valuables should be removed
from under his hands, to fall into other people's possession
when the English discomfiture should arrive. Of this
defeat he and a vast number of other persons in Brussels
and Belgium did not make the slightest doubt. The almost
universal belief was, that the Emperor would divide
the Prussian and English armies, annihilate one after the
other, and march into Brussels before three days were
over: when all the movables of his present masters, who
would be killed, or fugitives, or prisoners, would lawfully
become the property of Monsieur Isidor.
As he helped Jos through his toilsome and complicated
daily toilette, this faithful servant would calculate what
he should do with the very articles with which he was
decorating his master's person. He would make a present
of the silver essence-bottles and toilet knicknacks to a
young lady of whom he was fond; and keep the English
cutlery and the large ruby pin for himself. It would
look very smart upon one of the fine frilled shirts, which,
with the gold-laced cap and the frogged frock coat, that
might easily be cut down to suit his shape, and the Captain's
gold-headed cane, and the great double ring with
the rubies, which he would have made into a pair of
beautiful earrings, he calculated would make a perfect
Adonis of himself, and render Mademoiselle Reine an
easy prey. "How those sleeve-buttons will suit me!"
thought he, as he fixed a pair on the fat pudgy wrists of
Mr. Sedley. "I long for sleeve-buttons; and the Captain's
boots with brass spurs, in the next room, corbleu! what
an effect they will make in the Allee Verte!" So while
Monsieur Isidor with bodily fingers was holding on to his
master's nose, and shaving the lower part of Jos's face,
his imagination was rambling along the Green Avenue,
dressed out in a frogged coat and lace, and in company
with Mademoiselle Reine; he was loitering in spirit on
the banks, and examining the barges sailing slowly under
the cool shadows of the trees by the canal, or refreshing
himself with a mug of Faro at the bench of a beer-house
on the road to Laeken.
But Mr. Joseph Sedley, luckily for his own peace, no
more knew what was passing in his domestic's mind than
the respected reader, and I suspect what John or Mary,
whose wages we pay, think of ourselves. What our
servants think of us!--Did we know what our intimates and
dear relations thought of us, we should live in a world
that we should be glad to quit, and in a frame of mind
and a constant terror, that would be perfectly unbearable.
So Jos's man was marking his victim down, as you
see one of Mr. Paynter's assistants in Leadenhall Street
ornament an unconscious turtle with a placard on which
is written, "Soup to-morrow."
Amelia's attendant was much less selfishly disposed.
Few dependents could come near that kind and gentle
creature without paying their usual tribute of loyalty
and affection to her sweet and affectionate nature. And
it is a fact that Pauline, the cook, consoled her mistress
more than anybody whom she saw on this wretched
morning; for when she found how Amelia remained for hours,
silent, motionless, and haggard, by the windows in which
she had placed herself to watch the last bayonets of the
column as it marched away, the honest girl took the
lady's hand, and said, Tenez, Madame, est-ce qu'il n'est
pas aussi a l'armee, mon homme a moi? with which
she burst into tears, and Amelia falling into her arms,
did likewise, and so each pitied and soothed the other.
Several times during the forenoon Mr. Jos's Isidor
went from his lodgings into the town, and to the gates
of the hotels and lodging-houses round about the Parc,
where the English were congregated, and there mingled
with other valets, couriers, and lackeys, gathered such
news as was abroad, and brought back bulletins for his
master's information. Almost all these gentlemen were in
heart partisans of the Emperor, and had their opinions
about the speedy end of the campaign. The Emperor's
proclamation from Avesnes had been distributed
everywhere plentifully in Brussels. "Soldiers!" it said, "this
is the anniversary of Marengo and Friedland, by which the
destinies of Europe were twice decided. Then, as after
Austerlitz, as after Wagram, we were too generous. We
believed in the oaths and promises of princes whom we
suffered to remain upon their thrones. Let us march once
more to meet them. We and they, are we not still the
same men? Soldiers! these same Prussians who are so
arrogant to-day, were three to one against you at Jena,
and six to one at Montmirail. Those among you who
were prisoners in England can tell their comrades what
frightful torments they suffered on board the English
hulks. Madmen! a moment of prosperity has blinded
them, and if they enter into France it will be to find a
grave there!" But the partisans of the French prophesied
a more speedy extermination of the Emperor's enemies
than this; and it was agreed on all hands that Prussians
and British would never return except as prisoners in the
rear of the conquering army.
These opinions in the course of the day were brought
to operate upon Mr. Sedley. He was told that the Duke
of Wellington had gone to try and rally his army, the
advance of which had been utterly crushed the night
before.
"Crushed, psha!" said Jos, whose heart was pretty
stout at breakfast-time. "The Duke has gone to beat the
Emperor as he has beaten all his generals before."
"His papers are burned, his effects are removed, and his
quarters are being got ready for the Duke of Dalmatia,"
Jos's informant replied. "I had it from his own maitre
d'hotel. Milor Duc de Richemont's people are packing
up everything. His Grace has fled already, and the
Duchess is only waiting to see the plate packed to join the
King of France at Ostend."
"The King of France is at Ghent, fellow," replied Jos,
affecting incredulity.
"He fled last night to Bruges, and embarks today from
Ostend. The Duc de Berri is taken prisoner. Those who
wish to be safe had better go soon, for the dykes will
be opened to-morrow, and who can fly when the whole
country is under water?"
"Nonsense, sir, we are three to one, sir, against any
force Boney can bring into the field," Mr. Sedley
objected; "the Austrians and the Russians are on their
march. He must, he shall be crushed," Jos said, slapping
his hand on the table.
"The Prussians were three to one at Jena, and he
took their army and kingdom in a week. They were
six to one at Montmirail, and he scattered them like sheep.
The Austrian army is coming, but with the Empress and
the King of Rome at its head; and the Russians, bah!
the Russians will withdraw. No quarter is to be given
to the English, on account of their cruelty to our braves
on board the infamous pontoons. Look here, here it is
in black and white. Here's the proclamation of his
Majesty the Emperor and King," said the now declared
partisan of Napoleon, and taking the document from his
pocket, Isidor sternly thrust it into his master's face,
and already looked upon the frogged coat and valuables
as his own spoil.
Jos was, if not seriously alarmed as yet, at least
considerably disturbed in mind. "Give me my coat and cap,
sir, said he, "and follow me. I will go myself and learn
the truth of these reports." Isidor was furious as Jos put
on the braided frock. "Milor had better.not wear that
military coat," said he; "the Frenchmen have sworn not
to give quarter to a single British soldier."
"Silence, sirrah!" said Jos, with a resolute countenance
still, and thrust his arm into the sleeve with indomitable
resolution, in the performance of which heroic act he
was found by Mrs. Rawdon Crawley, who at this juncture
came up to visit Amelia, and entered without ringing
at the antechamber door.
Rebecca was dressed very neatly and smartly, as usual:
her quiet sleep after Rawdon's departure had refreshed
her, and her pink smiling cheeks were quite pleasant to
look at, in a town and on a day when everybody else's
countenance wore the appearance of the deepest anxiety
and gloom. She laughed at the attitude in which Jos was
discovered, and the struggles and convulsions with which
the stout gentleman thrust himself into the braided coat.
"Are you preparing to join the army, Mr. Joseph?"
she said. "Is there to be nobody left in Brussels to
protect us poor women?" Jos succeeded in plunging into
the coat, and came forward blushing and stuttering out
excuses to his fair visitor. "How was she after the events
of the morning--after the fatigues of the ball the night
before?" Monsieur Isidor disappeared into his master's
adjacent bedroom, bearing off the flowered dressing-gown.
"How good of you to ask," said she, pressing one of
his hands in both her own. "How cool and collected you
look when everybody else is frightened! How is our dear
little Emmy? It must have been an awful, awful parting."
"Tremendous," Jos said.
"You men can bear anything," replied the lady. "Parting
or danger are nothing to you. Own now that you
were going to join the army and leave us to our fate.
I know you were--something tells me you were. I was
so frightened, when the thought came into my head (for
I do sometimes think of you when I am alone, Mr.
Joseph), that I ran off immediately to beg and entreat
you not to fly from us."
This speech might be interpreted, "My dear sir, should
an accident befall the army, and a retreat be necessary,
you have a very comfortable carriage, in which I
propose to take a seat." I don't know whether Jos
understood the words in this sense. But he was profoundly
mortified by the lady's inattention to him during their
stay at Brussels. He had never been presented to any
of Rawdon Crawley's great acquaintances: he had scarcely
