General Pierson, nothings wrong, was replied by several voices; and some explained that Lieutenant Jenna had been called upon by General Schoneck to show his sword, and had refused.
The heroic defender of his sword shouted to the officer with whom General Pierson had been conversing: Here! Weisspriess!
What is it, my dear fellow? Speak, my good Jenna!
The explanation was given, and full sympathy elicited from Captain Weisspriess, while the two Generals likewise whispered and nodded.
Did you draw? the captain inquired, yawning. You neednt say it in quite so many words, if you did. I shall be asked by the General presently; and owing to that duel pending twixt you and his nephew, of which he is aware, he may put a bad interpretation on your pepperiness.
The devil fetch his nephew! returned the furious Lieutenant Jenna. He comes back to-night from Milan, and if he doesnt fight me to-morrow, I post him a coward. Well, about that business! My good Weisspriess, the fellows had got into a thick crowd all round, and had begun to knead me. Do you understand me? I felt their knuckles.
Ah, good, good! said the captain. Then, you didnt draw, of course. What officer of the Imperial service would, under similar circumstances! That is my reply to the Emperor, if ever I am questioned. To draw would be to show that an Austrian officer relies on his good sword in the thick of his enemies; against which, as you know, my Jenna, the Government have issued an express injunction button. Did you sell it dear?
A fellow parted with his ear for it.
Lieutenant Jenna illustrated a particular cut from a turn of his wrist.
That oughtnt to make a noise? he queried somewhat anxiously.
It wont hear one any longer, at all events, said Captain Weisspriess; and the two officers entered into the significance of the remark with enjoyment.
Meantime General Pierson had concluded an apparently humorous dialogue with his brother General, and the later, now addressing Lieutenant Jenna, said: Since you prefer surrendering your person rather than your swordit is good! Report yourself at the door of my room to-night, at ten. I suspect that you have been blazing your steel, sir. They say, tis as ready to flash out as your temper.
Several voices interposed: General! what if he did draw!
Silence. You have read the recent order. Orlando may have his Durindarda bare; but you may not. Grasp that fact. The Government wish to make Christians of you, my children. One cheek being smitten, what should you do?
Shall I show you, General? cried a quick little subaltern.
The order, my children, as received a fortnight since from our old Wien, commands you to offer the other cheek to the smiter.
So that a proper balance may be restored to both sides of the face, General Pierson appended.
And mark me, he resumed. There may be doubts about the policy of anything, though I shouldnt counsel you to cherish them: but theres no mortal doubt about the punishment for this thing. The General spoke sternly; and then relaxing the severity of his tone, he said, The desire of the Government is to make an army of Christians.
And a precious way of doing it! interjected two or three of the younger officers. They perfectly understood how hateful the Viennese domination was to their chiefs, and that they would meet sympathy and tolerance for any extreme of irony, provided that they showed a disposition to be subordinate. For the bureaucratic order, whatever it was, had to be obeyed. The army might, and of course did, know best: nevertheless it was bound to be nothing better than a machine in the hands of the dull closeted men in Vienna, who judged of difficulties and plans of action from a calculation of numbers, or from foreign journalsfrom heaven knows what!
General Schoneck and General Pierson walked away laughing, and the younger officers were left to themselves. Half-a-dozen of them interlaced arms, striding up toward the Porta Nuova, near which, at the corner of the Via Trinita, they had the pleasant excitement of beholding a riderless horse suddenly in mid gallop sink on its knees and roll over. A crowd came pouring after it, and from the midst the voice of a comrade hailed them. Its Pierson, cried Lieutenant Jenna. The officers drew their swords, and hailed the guard from the gates. Lieutenant Pierson dropped in among their shoulders, dead from want of breath. They held him up, and finding him sound, thumped his back. The blade of his sword was red. He coughed with their thumpings, and sang out to them to cease; the idle mob which had been at his heels drew back before the guard could come up with them. Lieutenant Pierson gave no explanation except that he had been attacked near Juliets tomb on his way to General Schonecks quarters. Fellows had stabbed his horse, and brought him to the ground, and torn the coat off his back. He complained in bitter mutterings of the loss of a letter therein, during the first candid moments of his anger: and, as he was known to be engaged to the Countess Lena von Lenkenstein, it was conjectured by his comrades that this lady might have had something to do with the ravishment of the letter. Great laughter surrounded him, and he looked from man to man. Allowance is naturally made for the irascibility of a brother officer coming tattered out of the hands of enemies, or Lieutenant Jenna would have construed his eyes challenge on the spot. As it was, he cried out, The letter! the letter! Charge, for the honour of the army, and rescue the letter! Others echoed him: The letter! the letter! the English letter! A foreigner in an army can have as much provocation as he pleases; if he is anything of a favourite with his superiors, his fellows will task his forbearance. Wilfrid Pierson glanced at the blade of his sword, and slowly sheathed it. Lieutenant Jenna is a good actor before a mob, he said. Gentlemen, I rely upon you to make no noise about that letter; it is a private matter. In an hour or so, if any officer shall choose to question me concerning it, I will answer him.
The last remnants of the mob had withdrawn. The officer in command at the gates threw a cloak over Wilfrids shoulders; and taking the arm of a friend Wilfrid hurried to barracks, and was quickly in a position to report himself to his General, whose first remark, Has the dead horse been removed? robbed him of his usual readiness to equivocate. When you are the bearer of a verbal despatch, come straight to quarters, if you have to come like a fig-tree on the north side of the wall in Winter, said General Schoneck, who was joined presently by General Pierson.
What s this I hear of some letter you have been barking about all over the city? the latter asked, after returning his nephews on-duty salute.
Wilfrid replied that it was a letter of his sisters treating of family matters.
The two Generals, who were close friends, discussed the attack to which he had been subjected. Wilfrid had to recount it with circumstance: how, as he was nearing General Schonecks quarters at a military trot, six men headed by a leader had dashed out on him from a narrow side-street, unhorsed him after a struggle, rifled the saddlebags, and torn the coat from his back, and had taken the mark of his sword, while a gathering crowd looked on, hooting. His horse had fled, and he confessed that he had followed his horse. General Schoneck spoke the name of Countess Lena suggestively. Not a bit, returned General Pierson; the fellow courts her too hotly. The scoundrels here want a bombardment; that s where it lies. A dose of iron pills will make Verona a healthy place. She must have it.