We left the place with every kind wish for the young and betrothed pair. I have not since revisited S——, but by letters from my friend, I have been informed, that this commencement of their loves had a sad and melancholy sequel.
After our departure, it seems, the lovers continued equally attached; arrangements were making for their union, and it was intended that Henri should leave the army previous to their marriage. But just at this juncture, and as he was about to leave his corps, rumours of war were circulated, the enterprise against Spain was projected, and the royal guard was one of the first corps ordered for service. Henri, with the natural enthusiasm of a soldier, felt all his former ardour revive; and longed to mingle in the ranks of glory, ere he left them for ever. He, doubtless, felt severely the separation from Rosalie; yet his feelings were described to me as being of a joyous character, and as if evincing that he felt happy that the opportunity of joining his brethren in arms, and of signalizing himself perhaps for the last time, had presented itself, previous to his marriage and his quitting the service.
The enterprise against Spain, he considered as the French army commonly did, to be a mere excursion of pleasure, which, while it led them into a country which many of them had never visited before, would also afford them the occasion of gathering laurels which might serve to redeem somewhat of their lost glory. He therefore looked forward to the expedition, on the whole, with feelings of ardour and delight, and even longed for its approach. Not so Rosalie! She looked on war and bloodshed with the natural apprehensions of her sex; and saw in the projected expedition, and its prospects of glory, only danger and death to her lover! Her spirits received a severe shock when the intelligence was first communicated—she gradually lost her cheerfulness and spirits; the song, the dance, had no longer charm or interest for her, and she could only contemplate the approaching separation with sorrow and dismay!
Henri perceived her depression, and endeavoured to combat and remove her fears by arguments fond, but unavailing. It was only, he would urge, a jaunt of pleasure; it would admit his speedy return, when he would come to lay his services at her feet, and claim the hand which was already promised to his hopes; and surely, then, Rosalie could not regret his obeying the call of duty and of honour; or like her lover the worse, when crowned with victory in the cause of his country. To these and similar assurances, Rosalie could only reply with the mute eloquence of tears; and nothing could divest her of the apprehension with which she ever regarded an enterprise which she seemed to consider from the first as fatal.
The time however drew on, the dreaded period arrived, the Royal Guard left its quarters, and departed from S——. Henri took a fond and passionate adieu of his betrothed; and Rosalie, having summoned all her fortitude to her aid, went through the parting scene with more firmness than could have been expected from her, though her feelings, afterwards, were described as of the most agonizing kind.
Such is the difference between the ardent feelings of man, and the tender and gentle sympathies of woman, that, while his sorrow is alleviated by a thousand mitigating circumstances of ardour and excitement, which relieve his attention, and soothe, though they do not annihilate his grief; she can only brood over her feelings, and suffer in silence and in sorrow. Henri marched out with his regiment in all the vigour of manhood, and with all the "pomp, pride, and circumstance of war," while Rosalie could only retire to her chamber and weep.
Time passed on; letters were received from Henri, which spoke in ardent terms of his journey, and of the new and singular scenes unfolded to his view. He adverted also to his return, mentioned the war as a mere pastime, and as an agreeable jaunt, the termination of which he only desired, because it would once more restore him to his Rosalie. It was remarked, however, that she never recovered her cheerfulness; to all her lover's assurances she could only reply with expressions of distrust, and with feelings of sorrow; and when she wrote, it was to express her fears of the campaign, and her wish that it were over, and that they were again united in safety.
And constantly did the good and pious girl offer up her prayers for her lover, as she repaired to the church of the Holy Virgin at S——, to perform her daily devotions.
The season advanced: the French marched through Spain, and reached Cadiz. At this last hope of the Constitutionalists, a strong resistance was expected, and Henri had written from Seville, that his next letter would announce the termination of the campaign. Alas! he never wrote again! Time flew on; the journals announced the fall of the Trocadero; the surrender of Cadiz, and the restoration of Ferdinand; yet there came no news from Henri! Then did the gentle girl sink into all the despondency of disappointment; and as day after day passed and brought no tidings of her lover, her beauty and her health suffered alike, she languished and pined till she scarce retained the semblance of her former self.
At last came a letter; it was from Spain, but it was written in a stranger's hand, and its sable appendages bespoke the fatal nature of its contents. It was from a brother officer of Henri, stating that his regiment had been foremost in the attack, and that the Trocadero, the last resource of the Constitutionalists, had been carried with the loss of but few killed; but, alas! among that few, was Henri! He was shot through the body while leading his men to the assault. He fell instantly dead, and the writer expressed his desire that the sad intelligence should be conveyed as gently as possible to Rosalie.