CHAPTER II.

CHAPTER II.

Teresa—for the intruder was no other than the daughter of Girardi—had been for a moment overcome by the intelligence she received at Turin of the departure of the Emperor for Alexandria. But it was fatigue rather than discouragement which made her pause; and nothing but the recollection that an unhappy captive was dependent upon her for the accomplishment of his only wish on earth, would have urged her forward upon her perilous errand. Without regard, therefore, to her weariness or loss of time, she signified to the guide her intention of proceeding at once to Alexandria.

“To Alexandria!’Tis twice as far as we have come already!” cried the man.

“No matter, we must set out again immediately.”

“I, for my part, shall not set out again before to-morrow,” replied the guide; “and then, only to return to Fenestrella; so a pleasant journey to you, signora!”

All the arguments she could use were unavailing to changehis determination. The man, who had enveloped himself in the iron obstinacy of the Piedmontese character, speedily unsaddled his horses, and laid himself down between them in the stable for a good night’s rest.

But Teresa, firmly devoted to her enterprise, would not now recede from the undertaking. Having made up her mind to pursue her journey, she entreated the landlady of the inn in theDora Grossa, where she had put up, to procure her the means of proceeding to Alexandria without a moment’s delay; and the hostess instantly despatched her waiters in various directions through the city in search of a conveyance, but without success. From the Suza gate to that of the Po, from the Porta Nuova to that of the palace, not a horse, carriage nor cart, public or private, was to be seen; all had long been engaged in consequence of the approaching solemnization at Alexandria.

Teresa now gave herself up to despair. Absorbed in anxious thought, she stationed herself with downcast looks on the steps of the inn, where luckily the gathering darkness secured her from recognition by the inhabitants of her native city, when suddenly the sound of approaching wheels became audible, accompanied by the tinkling of mule-bells; and at the very door where she was standing there appeared two powerful mules drawing one of those long caravans in use among travelling merchants, of which the boxes, closed by heavy padlocks, are made to open and form a movable shop, but the only accommodation of which, for passengers, consists in a narrow leathern seat in front, half under cover of a small awning of oil-cloth.

The man and woman, owners of the cart and its merchandise, having alighted, began to stretch their arms and yawn aloud, stamping with their feet by way of rousing themselves after a long and heavy slumber. At length, having familiarly saluted the hostess, they took refuge in the chimney-corner, holding out their hands and feet towards the vine-stocks blazing on the hearth; and after ordering the mules to be unharnessed and carefully attended to, they began to congratulate each other on the conclusion of their tedious journey, ordered supper, and talked of bed.

The hostess, too, was preparing for rest. The yawning waiters closed up the doors and window-shutters; and poor Teresa, watching with tearful eyes all these preparations, thought only of the hours that were passing away, the dying flower, and the despair of the Count de Charney.

“A night, a whole night!” she exclaimed; “a night of which every minute will be counted by that unhappy man; whileIshall be safe asleep. Nay, even to-morrow, it will be perhaps impossible for me to find a conveyance!”

And she cast her wistful eyes upon the two travellers, as if her last hope lay in their assistance. But she was still ignorant of the road they were to take, or whether they could or would be troubled with her company; and the poor girl, unaccustomed to find herself alone among strangers, still less among strangers of such a class, impelled by anxiety, but withheld by timidity, advanced a step towards them, then paused, mute, trembling, and undecided; when she was startled by the approach of a female servant, holding a candle and a key, who pointed out to her the room into which she was to retire for the night. Forced by this proposition to take some immediate step, Teresa put aside the arm of thegiannina, and advancing towards the couple, engaged in munching their supper, entreated pardon for the interruption, and inquired what road they were to take on quitting Turin.

“To Alexandria, my pretty maid,” replied the woman, starting at the question.

“To Alexandria! ’Twas then my guardian angel who brought you hither!” cried Teresa, overjoyed.

“I wish he had picked out a better road, then, signorina,” cried the woman, “for we are all but ground to powder!”

“But what do you want with us? How can we serve you?” interrupted the man.

“Urgent business carries me to Alexandria. Can you give me a cast?” inquired Teresa.

“Out of the question,” said the wife.

“I will pay you handsomely; two pieces of St. John the Baptist; that is, ten livres of France.”

“I don’t know how we could manage it,” observed the man. “In the first place, the bench is so narrow that it will be scarcely possible to sit three; though I own, signorina, ’tis no great matter of room you will take up. In the next place, we are going only as far as theMercatoof Renigano, near Asti, which is only half-way to Alexandria.”

“No matter,” cried Teresa; “convey me only so far as to the gates of Asti. But we must set out this very night—this very moment.”

“Impossible! quite impossible!” exclaimed both husband and wife at the same moment. “We made no bargain of our night’s rest.”

“The sum shall be doubled,” said Teresa, in a lower voice, “if you will only oblige me.”

The man and the woman interchanged looks of interrogation. “No,” cried the wife, at last; “we shall fall ill of fatigueon the road. Besides, Losca and Zoppa want rest. Do you wish to kill the poor mules?”

“Four pieces, remember!” murmured the husband. “Four pieces!”

“What is that to the value of Losca and Zoppa!”

“Double price, recollect, for only half the fare, and no danger to the beasts.”

“Pho! pho! a single Venetian sequin is worth twoparpaîoleof Genoa.”

Nevertheless, the notion of four crowns to be earned so easily was not without its charm for either wife or husband, and at last, after farther objections on one side, and supplications on the other, the mules were brought out and re-harnessed. Teresa, enveloped in her mantle, to protect her from the night air, arranged herself as well as she could on the bench between the grumbling couple; and at length they set off on their expedition. All the clocks in Turin were striking eleven as they passed the gate of the city.

In her impatience to arrive and procure good tidings for transmission to Fenestrella, Teresa would fain have found herself carried away by the speed of impetuous coursers towards Alexandria. But alas! the vehicle in which she had secured a place lumbered heavily along the road. The mules paced steadily along, lifting their legs with measured precision, so as to put in motion the little chime of bells, which imparted a still cooler character to the nonchalance of their movements. For some time, indeed, the fair traveller took patience, hoping the animals would become gradually excited, or that the driver might urge them with a touch of the whip. But finding his incitement limited to a slight clicking of the tongue, she at length took courage to inform him that it was essential to make all speed towards Asti, that she might arrive by day-break at Alexandria.

“Take my word for it, my pretty maid,” replied the man, “that ’tis not a whit more amusing to us than to yourself, to pass the night in counting the stars. But the cobbler must stick to his last. My cargo, young lady, consists of crockeryware, which I am conveying for sale to the fair of Renigano, and if my mules were to take to the trot, I should have only potsherds to produce at the end of my journey.”

“Are you, then, a crockery merchant?” exclaimed Teresa, in a tone of consternation.

“China merchants,” remonstrated the wife.

“Alas! alas!” exclaimed the disappointed girl—“is it then impossible for you to go a little faster?”

“Except by knocking to pieces my whole freight.”

“It is so important for me to arrive in time at Alexandria!”

“And for us to keep an eye to our goods.”

As an act of concession, however, he condescended to bestow a few additional clickings upon his beasts; but the mules were too well broken to their pace to risk their master’s property by quickening their speed.

Teresa now began to reproach herself with inconsideration, in not having acquainted herself with the length of time necessary to reach Asti, or personally attempted to discover in Turin some more expeditious mode of conveyance. But she had nothing now left for it but patience. The vehicle jogged on at its accustomed rate, Losca and Zoppa soon managed to take the soft sides of the road, avoiding the rough jumbling of the pavement; and at length, the merchant and his wife, after a few mutual consultations respecting their chance of success at the fair of Renigano, relapsed into silence; in the midst of which, soothed by the darkness, oppressed by the cold, and lulled by the monotonous tinkling of the mule-bells, Teresa was overpowered with drowsiness. Her head, which wandered in search of a resting-place from the shoulder of the driver to that of his wife, at length inclined heavily on her own bosom.

“Lean upon me, my poor child; and happy dreams to you!” said the man, in a compassionate tone; and having accepted his offer, the overwearied Teresa was soon in a deep sleep.

When she opened her eyes again, daylight was shiningbrightly upon her. Startled to find herself in the open air, on the high road, she strove to recall her bewildered recollections; and on attaining perfect consciousness, perceived with horror that the vehicle was standing still, and appeared to have been some time stationary. The merchant, his wife, the very mules were fast asleep; not the slightest sound proceeded from the chime of bells!

Teresa now perceived at some distance on the road they had been traversing the pinnacles of several steeples; and through the fantastic grouping of the morning mists, fancied she could discern the heights of the Superga, the Château of Mille Fiori, the Vigna della Regina, the Church of the Capuchins, all the rich adornments of the noble hills overhanging Turin.

“Merciful Heaven!” vociferated the poor girl—“we have scarcely got beyond the suburbs!”

Roused by this exclamation, the driver rubbed his eyes and hastened to reassure her. “We are approaching Asti,” said he. “The steeples you see behind you are those of Renigano. No cause to find fault with Losca and Zoppa; they can only just have begun their nap. Poor beasts! they have earned their rest hardly. Heaven send they may not have profited by mine, to make a trot of it.” Teresa smiled. “Gee! away with you, jades!” he continued, with a crack of the whip which awoke both his wife and the mules. And soonafterwards, at the gates of Asti, the worthy china-man took leave of his passenger, assisted her to alight, and after signing the cross over the twenty livres he received for her fare, turned straight round with his mules, and made off deliberately for Renigano.

Half of her way to Alexandria was thus accomplished; but, alas! it was now scarcely possible to arrive in time for the levee of the Emperor. “Yet no doubt an Emperor must be late in rising!” thought Teresa; and oh! how she longed to thrust below the horizon again the sun which was just making its importunate appearance! Expecting that every thing around her would bear tokens of her own agitation, she fancied the whole population of Asti must be already astir, in preparation for a journey to Alexandria; and that amid the confusion of carriages and carts about to take the road, it would be easy to secure a place in some public conveyance.

What, therefore, was her astonishment, on entering the town, to find the streets still silent and deserted, and the sun scarcely yet high enough to shine on more than the roofs of the highest houses and the dome of the church! It occurred to her at that moment that one of her maternal relations resided at Asti, who might render her assistance; and perceiving through the ground-floor window of a mean-looking house the red glimmering of a fire, she knocked, and ventured to inquire her way to the abode of her kinsman. A harsh voice answered her through the window that, for the last three months, the individual in question had been residing at his country-house at Monbercello; and thus disappointed, and alone in the solitary streets of a strange town, Teresa began to feel terrified and uneasy. To reanimate her courage, she turned towards a Madonna, beforewhich, in an adjoining niche, a lamp was burning, and breathed her morning prayer. Scarcely had she concluded her orisons, when she was startled by the sound of approaching footsteps, and a man soon made his appearance.

“Can you tell me of a conveyance to Alexandria?” said she, civilly accosting the stranger.

“Too late, my pretty one! every cart and carriage has been bespoken this week past!” he replied, and hastened on his way.

A second man came by, to whom Teresa ventured to address the same inquiry. But this time the answer was delivered in a harsh and reproving tone.

“You want to be running after the French, then,razza male,detta?” cried he, making off after his companion.

Teresa stood silent and intimidated at the accusation. At last, perceiving a young workman singing as he proceeded gaily to his business, she ventured to renew her inquiries.

“Aha, signorina!” cried he, in a tone of bantering, “you must needs make one in the battle, eh? But there will be little room left yonder for pretty damsels; better stay with us here, at Asti. ’Tis a fête to-day. The dancing will begin early in the afternoon; and thedrudi ballariniwill fall to breaking each other’s heads, to have you for a partner. Faith, you are worth the trouble of a fight! Eh! what say you to a skirmish in your honour?”

And, approaching Teresa Girardi, he was about to throw his arm round her waist; but, startled by her indignant glance and exclamation, desisted, and resumed his song and his occupation.

A fourth, a fifth, now traversed the street, but the poor girl no longer hazarded an inquiry, but kept watching every opening door, and peeping into every courtyard in hopes to find some carriage in waiting. At length, by especial favour, she managed to obtain a place as far as Annone. Between Annone and Felizano—between Felizano and Alexandria—she was perplexed by a thousand farther difficulties. But with courage and perseverance all were at length surmounted, andshe arrived happily at Alexandria. As she anticipated, the Emperor had already taken his departure for Marengo; and without pausing a moment for deliberation, she followed the crowd which was pouring from the suburbs along the road towards the field of battle.

Hurried on with the multitude, pressed and jostled on all sides, watching eagerly for openings in the crowd, skirting the outermost edges of the road, Teresa neglected no opportunity of pushing forward. Undisturbed by the clamour of the trumpets, the sports of the merry-andrews, or the discourses of the monks, she pursued her way in the midst of the laughing, yelling, shouting populace, which went leaping on in the heat and dust—a poor solitary stranger, apart from the sports and the joys of the day—her countenance anxious—her eye haggard—and raising her hand at intervals to wipe away the dew from her weary brows.

But the whole force and fortitude of Teresa’s mind were devoted to her progress. She has scarcely even found a moment for the contemplation of the farther means to be adopted. But a halt being suddenly imposed upon the crowd on reaching the outskirts of the field, she began to reflect on the uneasiness the prolongation of her absence would cause to her father (since the guide who had deserted her at Turin would not be permitted to enter the prison). She thought of Charney accusing his messenger of neglect and indifference; then felt for the petition in her bosom, apprehensive that, by some unlucky chance, it might have escaped her.

At the idea of her father grieving over the unwonted absence of his child, tears rushed into the eyes of Teresa; and it was from a reverie produced by these painful emotions that she was recalled to herself by the cries of joy bursting from the surrounding multitude. An open space had been formed just beside the spot where she was resting, around which the crowd seemed circling; and the moment Teresa turned her head to ascertain the cause of the tumult, her hands were seized, and in spite of her resistance, her depression, her fatigue, she found herself compelled to take part inafarandola, which went whirling along the road, recruiting all the pretty girls and sprightly lads who could be involved in the diversion.

Vexatious as was the interruption, Teresa at length found means to disengage herself from such unsatisfactory society; and having contrived by a painful effort to push her way through the crowd, she at length obtained a glimpse of the vast plain glittering with troops; and her eyes having wandered for some minutes over the splendid army, paused upon the little hillock occupied by the imperial court. At the sight of the throne, the aim and end of her perilous journey, Teresa’s heart leaped for joy; her courage returned, her strength seemed renewed. All her preceding cares were forgotten. But how to attain the wished-for spot? How to traverse those battalions of men and horses? There was madness in the very project!

But that which at first sight presented an obstacle, soon appeared to farther her intentions. The foremost ranks of the crowd pouring in torrents from Alexandria, having deployed to the right and left, on reaching the plain, were gradually gaining the banks of the Tanaro and the Bormida; where, at one moment, they pushed on so impetuously as to seem on the point of taking possession of the field of battle. A small body of cavalry instantly galloped towards the spot, waving their naked sabres, and by the plunging of their chargers causing the terrified crowd to return to the limits assigned them. The intruders evacuated the territory as rapidly as they had gained it, with the exception of a single individual: that individual was Teresa Girardi!

In an adjacent hollow of the plain, surrounded by a strong quickset hedge, and sheltered by a small thicket of trees, flowed a spring of limpid water; towards which, thrust onwards by the crowd of spectators, the poor girl, whose eyes were fixed upon the throne in the distance, found herself irresistibly impelled. Apprehensive every moment of being crushed in the throng, she seized in her arms the trunk of the nearest poplar tree; and closing her eyes, like a child who fancies the danger has ceased to exist which it is not obliged to look upon, remained motionless, her hearing confused by the rustling of the surrounding foliage. The advance and retreat of the mob was, in fact, so instantaneous, that when Teresa re-opened her eyes she was quite alone, separated from the troops by the hedge and thicket, and from the crowd by a column of dust, produced by the last detachment of fugitives. Throwing herself at once into the little copse, she found herself in the centre of about twenty poplar and aspen trees, overshadowing a crystal spring welling out of the ground over a bed of ivy, moss and celandine, till, bubbling onward in a silver thread, it gradually formed a brook capable of traversing the plain, over which its course was defined by painted tufts of blue forget-me-not, and the clusters of the white ranunculus. The refreshing exhalations of the shady spot assisted to restore the self-possession and strength of the exhausted girl. Teresa felt as though she had reached an oasis of verdure in the desert, sheltered from dust, and heat, and disturbance.

Meanwhile the plain has become suddenly quiet; she hears neither the word of command, the huzza of the crowd, nor the neighing of the horses. All she can discern is a singular movement overhead; and, looking up, Teresa perceives every bough and spray of the trees to be covered with flights of sparrows, driven to shelter from all quarters of the plain by the alarming movement of the troops and the incursions of the crowd. The poor birds, like the poor girl contemplating them, have taken refuge in that verdant solitude, their little wings and throats apparently paralysed by affright;for not a sound breaks from the band of feathered fugitives. Even on the advance of a brigade of cavalry towards the thicket, accompanied by the braying of trumpets, not a bird is seen to stir. They appear to wait anxiously for the result; while a similar feeling prompts Girardi’s daughter to look through the foliage upon the field.

Her eyes are quickly attracted by files of troops, which appear to have cut off all communication between the thicket and the road.

“After all,” thought the trembling Teresa, “it is but asham-fight that is about to take place; and if I have been imprudent in venturing hither, the Almighty, who knows the innocence of my heart, will keep me in time of trouble!”

And, directing her attention through the opposite extremity of the thicket, she discerns, at the distance of about three hundred paces, the throne of Josephine and Napoleon. The space between is occupied by the manœuvres of the soldiers; but every now and then the ground is sufficiently cleared to admit of passing. Teresa now takes courage!—she feels that a decisive moment is at hand. Having opened a way through the hedge, she is about to advance, when the disorder of her toilet suddenly occurring to her mind, brings blushes into her cheeks. Her tresses, unbraided and dishevelled, are floating over her shoulders; her hands, her face, her person, are disfigured with dust. To present herself in such a condition before the sovereigns of Italy and France, were perhaps to insure her rejection, and the failure of her anxious mission.

Re-entering the thicket, therefore, and drawing near to the spring, she unties her large Leghorn hat, shakes out and smooths down her raven hair, braids up the flowing tresses, bathes her hands and face; and, having completed her morning toilet, breathes a prayer to Heaven for its blessing upon the merciful purpose which hast cast her, thus defenceless, into the ranks of an army.

While watching for an auspicious moment to recommence her course, the stunning detonations of the cannon roar, fromtwenty different points, into her ears. The ground seems to tremble under her feet; and, while the poor girl stands motionless with consternation, the scared birds, fluttering from the trees above, with discordant cries and bewildered wings, make off for the woods of Valpedo and Voghera.

The fight has begun! Teresa, deafened by the roar of artillery and the universal clamour, stands transfixed, gazing towards the throne, which is sometimes concealed from her by clouds of smoke; sometimes by a screen of lances or bayonets.

After the lapse of half an hour, during which every idea seemed to abandon her mind, but that of indescribable terror, the energy of her soul resumed its force. She examined, with greater composure, the obstacles with which she is beset; and decided that it may still be possible to attain the imperial throne. Two columns of infantry, prolonged into a double line, to which the flanks of the thicket form a centre, were beginning to engage in an animated fire upon each other. Under cover of the clouds of smoke, she trusted to make her way between them, unobserved. Still, however, Teresa trembled at the attempt, when a troop of hussars, burning with thirst, suddenly invaded her asylum, and the maiden hesitated no longer. Her courage was roused, the moment her modesty took the alarm. She rushed forth at once between two columns of infantry;and when the smoke began to subside, the soldiers raised a cry of astonishment, on perceiving in the midst of them the white dress and straw hat of a young girl—a young and pretty Piedmontese—whom each made it his immediate business to capture.

At that moment a squadron of cuirassiers was galloping up to re-enforce one of the lines, the captain of which was on the point of trampling down the unfortunate Teresa; but, pulling up his horse in time, he gave her in charge to two soldiers of the line; not, however, without a few oaths and great wonder at such an apparition on the field of battle.

One of the two cuirassiers deputed to escort her to quarters quickly raised her to his saddle; and it was thus she was conveyed to the rear of the hillock, where a few ladies belonging to the suite of the Empress were stationed, accompaniedby an aid-de-camp and thecorps diplomatiqueof the Italian deputations.

Teresa now fancied that her enterprise was accomplished. She had surmounted too many difficulties to be discouraged by the few remaining; and when, on her demand to be admitted to the Emperor, she was informed that he was on the field, at the head of the troops, she entreated an audience of the Empress. But this request appeared no less inadmissible than the other. To get rid of her importunities, the bystanders had recourse to intimidation, but Teresa’s courage rose against their efforts. They insisted that she should at least wait the conclusion of the evolutions; and were astonished to find her persist in forcing her way towards the throne. Detained and threatened, her struggles became the more vehement. It was then that, raising her voice in self-defence, its piteous accents reached the ear of Josephine, to which the voice of a female in distress and appealing to her protection, were never known to be addressed in vain.

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