"We can ask for room for our wounded here until we get a chance to send them to Washington," said St. Udo, "and leave a guard with them. Come, Calembours, let's reconnoiter."
"With all my heart," quoth the chevalier. "I like the outside of the maison better than the inside of my tent, and, by gar! comrade, what then will the inside of the maison be? Come, then."
And with this brief prologue the quaintest performance was ushered in which Colonel Brand had yet witnessed in his acquaintance with the sprightly Chevalier de Calembours.
The two colonels approached through beds of sweetest flowers, and tinkling fountains, and garden houses—the loveliest residence imaginable, swathed in roses and creamy jasmine cups, girdled with balconies in highest tracery, embellished with a row of pillars in front upholding a gilded piazza roof, and entered through an imposing portal of richest design.
There was no sign of life, however, apparent, although the upper windows were opened to their widest extent, and the snowy curtains waved out on the wall among the climbing roses; and St. Udo's peremptory rap upon the door only received an answer from its echo in the sounding hall.
"Encore!" cried the cavalier, "they sleep soundly! Again, mon ami, don't despair."
A shrill cry interrupted the little man, and sent his dilated eyes up to the window above, from which it had proceeded.
"A woman in terror!" whispered he. "Morbleu! I long to greet the owner of such a voice. So clear, so fresh. Sweet madam. I pray you shriek again!"
St. Udo knocked louder.
"Go, go, Vinnie," uttered a frantic voice. "It is a band of Northern soldiers. They will blow up the house if you don't let them in!"