Thou must be made immortal. If I must die,
I will encounter darkness as a bride,
And hug it to my breast.—Shakspeare.
At length Monck looked up from his map, but he turned his heavy white face towards Colonel Rosenthal and stared with his big blue eyes straight through that gentleman’s head as if it had not stood in his line of vision. Monck was evidently in a maze, being still bewildered with his geographical puzzles.
With a courteous bow and wave of his hand towards his companions, Captain Bannister motioned him up to the guerrilla chief and presented him.
“Colonel Rosenthal, of the —— Cavalry. Major Monck.”
“Colonel Rosenthal, I am very glad to see you—very glad indeed! I can say these words with more truth than they are usually said. Indeed I was so desirous of entertaining you, that hearing you were on your way to W., attended by a single orderly, I sent out a special detachment of my best men to meet and escort you here. Again I say I am delighted to make your acquaintance. How are you, sir?” said Monck, with a sort of cold jocularity, extending his fat hand to his prisoner.
But Colonel Rosenthal ignored the hand and retreating a step, bowed coldly.
“Take a seat, sir—take a seat. Make yourself at home. We hope to enjoy the pleasure of your company for a good long while. We shall hold you in a sort of honorable captivity, as a hostage for the safety of some of our poor fellows now pining in the clock-peddlers’ prisons. Sit down, sir. Pray sit down. But let us find a chair first. Here! you! Hoskins! bring a chair this way for the gentleman. I hope we shall spend a pleasant season together, Colonel Rosenthal.”
One of the men brought forward a rude wooden chair, probably of camp manufacture, and Justin threw himself into it.