The bells were tolling mournfully, and many persons were lamenting in the streets as if the day of universal doom was at hand. The churches were lighted for night service when Stuart entered the city. From the tall Gothic windows of the church of St. Gudule, vivid flakes of variously-tinted light streamed on the groups of anxious and gossiping citizens, who were assembled in knots and crowds in the great Sablon square, or on the magnificent flight of steps ascending to the doorway, through which streams of radiance, and strains of choral music, came gushing into the streets below. The bells in the two great towers were booming away in concert with others, and flinging their deep hollow tones to the midnight wind. Business of every kind was suspended; the shops were shut; and the paunchy magistrates were all in the Hôtel de Ville, assembled in solemn conclave, consulting, not about the best means of defence, but the best mode,—to use a homely phrase,—"of cutting their stick," and without beat of drum.
CHAPTER X.
CAMERON OF FASSIFERN.
"Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er,
Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking;
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking."
Lady of the Lake.
As soon as the military traveller presented himself before the cathedral of St. Gudule, the lustre streaming from the sixteen illuminated chapels of which filled the surrounding streets with a light rivalling that of day, a dense crowd gathered around him, barring his passage on every side, and clamorously demanding, "What news from the army?"
It was with the utmost difficulty that he could make these terrified cits understand he was bound for the field, and wished to know which way the British troops had marched. His only reply from them was, "The French—the French are coming on!" Fear had besotted them. He told them they would serve Belgium better by getting arms and joining her allies, than by thronging the streets like frightened sheep. This was answered by a groan, and the feeble cry of "vivat!"
Cursing them for cowards, in his impatience to get on he spurred his horse upon the crowd, and drove them back. By their increasing number, an officer of the Brunswick-Oels corps, who was riding down the street at full speed, was likewise stopped; and having a little knowledge of the English language, he learned Ronald's dilemma, and invited him to be his companion, as he was following the route of the army. They galloped through the Namur gate, and in five minutes Bruxelles, with its lights and din, fear and uproar, was far behind them. They were pressing at full speed along the road leading to the then obscure village of Waterloo. It wound through the dark forest of Soignies; the oak, the ash, and the elm were in full foliage, and, for many miles of the way, their deep shadows rendered the road as dreary as can be conceived.
The speed at which the travellers rode completely marred any attempt at conversation, and the only sounds which broke the silence were their horses' hoofs echoing in the green glades around them. When at intervals the moonlight streamed between the clouds and the trees, Ronald turned to survey his companion, whose singular equipment added greatly to the gloomy effect produced by the dark forest, which stretched around them for many miles in every direction.
The cavalry officer belonged to the Brunswick troops, who, with their duke, had made a vow to wear mourning until the death of their late prince and leader should be avenged. His horse, his harness, his accoutrements and uniform, were all of the deepest black, and a horse-hair plume of the same sable hue floated above the plate of his schako, which was ornamented by a large silver skull and cross-bones, similar to the badge worn by our 17th Lancers. A death's-head was grinning on his sabre-tasche, on his holsters, his horse's forehead and breastplate, and the same grim badge looked out of every button on his coat. He was rather stately in figure for a German, and a tall and sombre-looking fellow, with large dark eyes, lank moustaches, and a solemn visage. His tout ensemble rendered him altogether as ghastly and melancholy a companion, as the most morbid or romantic mind could wish to ride with through a gloomy wood at midnight, with strange paths and darkness behind, and a battle-field in front.
After riding for about six miles in silence, a muttered ejaculation from both announced their observation of a flash which illuminated the sky. It was "the red artillery," and every instant other flashes shot vividly athwart the firmament, like sheet lightning; and soon afterwards the sound of firing was heard, but faint and distant. It was a dropping fire, and caused, probably, by some encounter of stragglers or outposts.