This eBook was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of thefile for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making anentire meal of them. D.W.]
The Story of a Lost Napoleon
By Gilbert Parker
The sickness had come like a whirlwind: when it passed, what would beleft? The fight went on in the quiet hills—a man of no great statureor strength, against a monster who racked him in a fierce embrace. Athousand scenes flashed through Valmond's brain, before his eyes, whilethe great wheel of torture went round, and he was broken, broken-mendedand broken again, upon it. Spinning—he was for ever spinning, like atireless moth through a fiery air; and the world went roaring past. Invain he cried to the wheelman to stop the wheel: there was no answer.Would those stars never cease blinking in and out, or the wind stopwhipping the swift clouds past? So he went on, endless years, drivingthrough space, some terrible intangible weight dragging at his heart, andall his body panting as it spun.
Grotesque faces came and went, and bright-eyed women floated by, laughingat him, beckoning to him; but he could not come, because of this endlessgoing. He heard them singing, he felt the divine notes in his batteredsoul; he tried to weep for the hopeless joy of it; but the tears came nohigher than his throat. Why did they mock him so? At last, all thefigures merged into one, and she had the face—ah, he had seen itcenturies ago!—of Madame Chalice. Strange that she was so young still,and that was so long past—when he stood on a mountain, and, clamberinga high wall of rock, looked over into a happy No-man's Land.
Why did the face elude him so, flashing in and out of the vapours?Why was its look sorrowful and distant? And yet there was that perfectsmile, that adorable aspect of the brow, that light in the deep eyes.He tried to stop the eternal spinning, but it went remorselessly on;and presently the face was gone; but not till it had given him ease ofhis pain.
Then came fighting, fighting, nothing but fighting—endless charges ofcavalry, continuous wheelings and advancings and retreatings, and the maddin of drums; afterwards, in a swift quiet, the deep, even thud of thehorses' hoofs striking the ground. Flags and banners flaunted gaily by.How the helmets flashed, and the foam flew from the bits! But thoseflocks of blackbirds flying over the heads of the misty horsemen—theymade him shiver. Battle, battle, battle, and death, and being born—hefelt it all.
All at once there came a wide peace and clearing, and the everlasting jarand movement ceased. Then a great pause, and light streamed round him,comforting him.
It seemed to him that he was lying helpless and still by falling water ina valley. The water soothed him, and he fell asleep. After a long timehe waked, and dimly knew that a face, good to look at, was bending overhim. In a vague, far-off way he saw that it was Elise Malboir; but evenas he saw, his eyes closed, the world dropped away, and he sank to sleepagain.
It was no vision or delirium; for Elise had come. She had knelt besidehis bed, and given him drink, and smoothed his pillow; and once, whenno one was in the tent, she stooped and kissed his hot dark lips, andwhispered words that were not for his ears to hear, nor to be heard byany one of this world. The good Cure found her there. He had not heartto bid her go home