That evening I joined my regiment, and took up my quarters in the barracks, where already the rumor of important political events had reached the officers, and they stood in groups discussing the chances of a war, or listening to the “Moniteur,” which was read out by one of the party. What a strange thrill it sent through me to think that I was privy to the deepest secret of that important step on which the peace of Europe was resting,—that I had heard the very words as they fell from the lips of him on whom the destiny of millions then depended! With what a different interpretation to me came those passages in the Government journal which breathed of peace, and spoke of painful sacrifices to avoid a war, for which already his very soul was thirsting! and how to my young heart did that passion for glory exalt him who could throw all into the scale! The proud position he occupied,—the mighty chief of a mighty nation; the adulation in which he daily lived; the gorgeous splendor of a Court no country in Europe equalled,—all these (and more, his future destiny) did lie set upon the cast for the great game his manly spirit gloried in.
In such thoughts as these I lived as in a world of my own. Companionship I had none; my brother officers, with few exceptions, had risen from the ranks, and were of that class which felt no pleasure save in the coarse amusements of the barrack-room or the vulgar jests of the service. The better classes lived studiously apart from these, and made no approaches to intimacy with any newly joined officer with whose family and connections they were unacquainted; and I, from my change of country, stood thus alone, unacknowledged and unknown. At first this isolation pained and grieved me, but gradually it became less irksome; and when at length they who had at first avoided and shunned my intimacy showed themselves disposed to know me, my pride, which before would have been gratified by such an acknowledgment, was now wounded, and I coolly declined their advances.
Some weeks passed in this manner, during which I never saw or heard of De Beauvais, and at length began to feel somewhat offended at the suddenness with which he seemed to drop an intimacy begun at his own desire; when one evening, as I had returned to my barrack-room after parade, I heard a knock at my door. I rose and opened it, when, to my surprise, I beheld De Beauvais before me. He was much thinner than when I last saw him, and his dress and appearance all betokened far less of care and attention.
“Are these your quarters?” said he, entering and throwing a cautious look about. “Are you alone here?”
“Yes,” said I; “perfectly.”
“You expect no one?”
“Not any,” said I, again, still more surprised at the agitation of his manner, and the evident degree of anxiety he labored under.
“Thank Heaven!” said he, drawing a deep sigh as he threw himself on my little camp-bed, and covered his face with his hands.
Seeing that something weighed heavily on him, I half feared to interfere with the current of his thoughts, and merely drew my chair and sat down beside him.
“I say, Burke, mon cher, have you any wine? Let me have a glass or two, for save some galette, and that not the best either, I have tasted nothing these last twenty-four hours.”