The Complete Works of Stephen Crane (52 page)

And this was my inheritance! I could have sobbed my grief and anger, but I took firm hold on myself and resolved upon another way of dealing with the nobleman.

“My lord,” said I coolly, “My father is dead. When he was dying he gave certain papers into my hands, — papers which he had guarded for many years, — and bade me, as his son, to deliver them into the hands of an old friend and comrade; and I come to this old friend and comrade of my father, and he lies back in his bed and cackles at me like a hen. ’Tis a small foot I would have set upon England if I had known more of you, you old skate!”

But still he laughed and cried: “Straw! Straw! Nothing but straw!”

“Well, sir,” said I with icy dignity, “I may be a fool of an Irishman with no title save an older one than yours; but I would be deeply sorry if there came a day when I should throw a trust back in the teeth of a dead comrade’s son.”

“No,” said the bright-eyed old man, comforting himself amid his pillows. “Look you, O’Ruddy! You are a rascal! You came over in an attempt to ruin me! I know it!”

I was awed by this accusation. It seemed to me to be too grand, too gorgeous for my personal consumption. I knew not what to do with this colossus. It towered above me in splendour and gilt. I had never expected to be challenged with attempting to ruin earls. My father had often ruined sea-captains, but he never in his life ruined so much as a baronet. It seemed altogether too fine for my family, but I could only blurt weakly, “Yessir.” I was much like a lackey.

“Aye,” said the old man, suddenly feeble from the excitement, “I see you admit it, you black Irish rogue.” He sank back and applied a napkin to his mouth. It seemed to come away stained with blood. “You scoundrel!”

I had a strange cowardly inclination to fling myself upon this ancient survival and squeeze his throat until it closed like a pursel. And my inclination was so strong that I stood like a stone.

The valet opened the door. “If it please your Lordship — Lady Mary,” he announced, and stood aside to let a lady pass. The Earl seemed immediately to forget my presence. He began at once to make himself uncomfortable in his bed. Then he cried fretfully: “Come, Mary, what caused you to be so long? Make me easy! Ruffle my pillows! Come, daughter.”

“Yes, father,” answered a soothing and sweet voice. A gracious figure passed before me and bended over the bed of the Earl. I was near blinded. It was not a natural blindness. It was an artificial blindness which came from my emotion. Was she tall? I don’t know. Was she short? I don’t know. But I am certain that she was exactly of the right size. She was, in all ways, perfection. She was of such glory, she was so splendid, that my heart ceased to beat. I remained standing like a stone, but my sword scabbard, reminiscent of some movement, flapped gently against my leg. I thought it was a horrible sound. I sought to stay it, but it continued to tinkle, and I remember that, standing there in the room with the old Earl and my love-’til-death, I thought most of my scabbard and its inability to lay quiet at my thigh.

She smoothed his bed and coaxed him and comforted him. Never had I seen such tenderness. It was like a vision of a classic hereafter. In a second I would have exchanged my youth for the position of this doddering old nobleman who spat blood into a napkin.

Suddenly the Earl wheeled his eyes and saw me.

“Ha, Mary!” he cried feebly, “I wish to point out a rogue. There he stands! The O’Ruddy! An Irishman and a fine robber! Mark him well, and keep stern watch of your jewels.”

The beautiful young lady turned upon me an affrighted glance. And I stood like a stone.

“Aye,” said the old wretch, “keep stern watch of your jewels. He is a very demon for skill. He could take a ring from your finger while you were thinking he was fluttering his hands in the air.”

I bowed gallantly to the young lady. “Your rings are safe, my lady. I would ill requite the kindness shown by your father to the son of an old friend if I deprived your white fingers of a single ornament.”

“Clever as ever, clever as ever,” chuckled the wicked old man.

The young lady flushed and looked first at me and then at her father. I thought her eye, as it rested upon me, was not without some sympathetic feeling. I adored her. All the same I wished to kill her father. It is very curious when one wishes to kill the father of the woman one adores. But I suppose the situation was made more possible for me by the fact that it would have been extremely inexpedient to have killed the Earl in his sick bed. I even grinned at him.

“If you remember my father, your lordship,” said I amiably, “despite your trying hard to forget him, you will remember that he had a certain native wit which on occasion led him to be able to frustrate his enemies. It must have been a family trait, for I seem to have it. You are an evil old man! You yourself stole my papers!”

At first I thought that my speech had given the aged Earl a stroke. He writhed on his bed, and something appeared at his lips which was like froth. His lovely daughter sprang to him with a cry of fear and woe. But he was not dying; he was only mad with rage.

“How dare you? How dare you?” he gasped. “You whelp of Satan!”

“’Tis me that would not be fearing to dare anything,” I rejoined calmly. “I would not so. I came here with a mind for fair words, but you have met me with insult and something worse. We cannot talk the thing. We must act it. The papers are yours, but you took them from me unfairly. You may destroy them. Otherwise I will have them back and discover what turned you into a great rogue near the end of your days.”

“Hearken!” screamed the Earl. “Hearken! He threatens.” The door into the parlour flew open, and Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale appeared on the threshold, their faces blank with wonder.

“Father,” cried the young lord, stepping hastily forward, “whatever is wrong?”

“That!” screamed the Earl, pointing a palsied finger at me. “That! He comes here and threatens
me
, — a peer of England.”

The Lady Mary spoke swiftly to her brother and the Colonel.

“’Tis a sick man’s fancy,” she said. “There have been no threats. Father has had a bad day. He is not himself. He talks wildly. He—”

“Mary!” yelled the Earl as well as he was able. “Do you betray me? Do you betray your own father? Oh, a woman Judas and my daughter!”

Lord Strepp and Colonel Royale looked as if their minds were coming apart. They stared at Lady Mary, at the Earl, at me. For my part I remained silent and stiff in a corner, keeping my eye upon the swords of the other gentlemen. I had no doubt but that presently I would be engaged in a desperate attempt to preserve my life. Lady Mary was weeping. She had never once glanced in my direction. But I was thrilling with happiness. She had flung me her feeble intercession even as a lady may fling a bun to a bear in a pit, but I had the remembrance to prize, to treasure, and if both gentlemen had set upon me and the sick Earl had advanced with the warming-pan I believe my new strength would have been able to beat them off.

In the meantime the Earl was screeching meaningless rubbish in which my name, with epithets, occurred constantly. Lady Mary, still weeping, was trying to calm him.

Young Lord Strepp at last seemed to make up his mind. He approached me and remarked:

“An inexplicable situation, Mr. O’Ruddy.”

“More to me than to you,” I repeated suavely.

“How?” he asked, with less consideration in his manner. “I know nought of this mummery.”

“At least I know no more,” I replied, still suave.

“How, Mr. O’Ruddy?” he asked, frowning. “I enter and find you wrangling with my father in his sick chamber. Is there to be no word for this?”

“I dare say you will get forty from your father; a hundred, it may be,” said I, always pleasant. “But from me you will get none.”

He reflected for a moment. “I dare say you understand I will brook no high-handed silence in a matter of this kind. I am accustomed to ask for the reasons for certain kinds of conduct, and of course I am somewhat prepared to see that the reasons are forthcoming.”

“Well, in this case, my lord,” said I with a smile, “you can accustom yourself to not getting a reason for a certain kind of conduct, because I do not intend to explain myself.”

But at this moment our agreeable conversation was interrupted by the old Earl who began to bay at his son. “Arthur, Arthur, fling the rascal out; fling the rascal out! He is an impostor, a thief!” He began to fume and sputter, and threw his arms wildly; he was in some kind of convulsion; his pillows tossed, and suddenly a packet fell from under them to the floor. As all eyes wheeled toward it, I stooped swiftly and picked it up.

“My papers!” said I.

On their part there was a breathless moment of indecision. Then the swords of Lord Strepp and the Colonel came wildly from their scabbards. Mine was whipped out no less speedily, but I took it and flung it on the floor at their feet, the hilt toward them. “No,” said I, my hands empty save for the papers, “’tis only that I would be making a present to the fair Lady Mary, which I pray her to receive.” With my best Irish bow I extended to the young lady the papers, my inheritance, which had caused her father so much foaming at the mouth.

She looked at me scornfully, she looked at her father, she looked at me pathetically, she looked at her father, she looked at me piteously; she took the papers.

I walked to the lowering and abashed points of the other men’s swords, and picked my blade from the floor. I paid no heed to the glittering points which flashed near my eyes. I strode to the door; I turned and bowed; as I did so, I believe I saw something in Lady Mary’s eyes which I wished to see there. I closed the door behind me.

But immediately there was a great clamour in the room I had left, and the door was thrown violently open again. Colonel Royale appeared in a high passion:

“No, no, O’Ruddy,” he shouted, “you are a gallant gentleman. I would stake my life that you are in the right. Say the word, and I will back you to the end against ten thousand fiends.”

And after him came tempestuously young Lord Strepp, white on the lips with pure rage. But he spoke with a sudden steadiness.

“Colonel Royale, it appears,” he said, “thinks he has to protect my friend The O’Ruddy from some wrong of my family or of mine?”

The Colonel drew in his breath for a dangerous reply, but I quickly broke in:

“Come, come, gentlemen,” said I sharply. “Are swords to flash between friends when there are so many damned scoundrels in the world to parry and pink? ’Tis wrong; ’tis very wrong. Now, mark you, let us be men of peace at least until to-morrow morning, when, by the way, I have to fight your friend Forister.”

“Forister!” they cried together. Their jaws fell; their eyes bulged; they forgot everything; there was a silence.

“Well,” said I, wishing to reassure them, “it may not be to-morrow morning. He only told me that he would kill me as soon as he came to Bristol, and I expect him to-night or in the morning. I would of course be expecting him to show here as quickly as possible after his grand speech; but he would not be entirely unwelcome, I am thinking, for I have a mind to see if the sword of an honest man, but no fighter, would be able to put this rogue to shame, and him with all his high talk about killing people who have never done a thing in life to him but kick him some number of feet out into the inn yard, and this need never to have happened if he had known enough to have kept his sense of humour to himself, which often happens in this world.”

Reflectively, Colonel Royale murmured:

“One of the finest swordsmen in England.”

For this I cared nothing.

Reflectively, Lord Strepp murmured: “My father’s partner in the shipping trade.”

This last made me open my eyes. “Your father’s partner in the shipping trade, Lord Strepp? That little black rascal?”

The young nobleman looked sheepish.

“Aye, I doubt not he may well be called a little black rascal, O’Ruddy,” he answered; “but in fact he is my father’s partner in certain large — fairly large, you know — shipping interests. Of course that is a matter of no consequence to me personally — but — I believe my father likes him, and my mother and my sister are quite fond of him, I think. I, myself, have never been able to quite — quite understand him in certain ways. He seems a trifle odd at moments. But he certainly is a friend of the family.”

“Then,” said I, “you will not be able to have the felicity of seeing him kill me, Lord Strepp.”

“On the contrary,” he rejoined considerately, “I would regard it as usual if he asked me to accompany him to the scene of the fight.”

His remark, incidentally, that his sister was fond of Forister, filled me with a sudden insolent madness.

“I would hesitate to disturb any shipping trade,” I said with dignity. “It is far from me to wish that the commerce of Great Britain should be hampered by sword-thrust of mine. If it would please young Lord Strepp, I could hand my apologies to Forister all tied up in blue-silk ribbon.”

But the youthful nobleman only looked at me long with a sad and reproachful gaze.

“O’Ruddy,” he said mournfully, “I have seen you do two fine things. You have never seen me do anything. But, know you now, once and for all, that you may not quarrel with me.”

This was too much for an Irish heart. I was moved to throw myself on this lad’s neck. I wished to swear to him that I was a brother in blood, I wished to cut a vein to give him everlasting strength — but perhaps his sister Mary had something to do with this feeling.

Colonel Royale had been fidgeting. Now he said suddenly:

“Strepp, I wronged you. Your pardon, Mr. O’Ruddy; but, damme, Strepp, if I didn’t think you had gone wrong for the moment.”

Lord Strepp took the offered hand. “You are a stupid old firebrain,” he said affectionately to the Colonel.

“Well,” said the Colonel jubilantly, “now everything is clear. If Mr. O’Ruddy will have me, I will go with him to meet this Forister; and you, Strepp, will accompany Forister; and we all will meet in a friendly way — ahem!”

“The situation is intimately involved,” said Lord Strepp dejectedly. “It will be a ridiculous business — watching each blade lunge toward the breast of a friend. I don’t know that it is proper. Royale, let us set ourselves to part these duellists. It is indecent.”

“Did you note the manner in which he kicked him out of the inn?” asked the Colonel. “Do you think a few soothing words would calm the mind of one of the finest swordsmen in England?”

I began to do some profound thinking.

“Look you, Colonel,” said I. “Do you mean that this wretched little liar and coward is a fine swordsman?”

“I haven’t heard what you call him,” said the Colonel, “but his sword-play is regular firelight on the wall. However,” he added hopefully, “we may find some way to keep him from killing you. I have seen some of the greatest swordsmen lose by chance to a novice. It is something like cards. And yet you are not an ignorant player. That, I, Clarence Royale, know full well. Let us try to beat him.”

I remembered Forister’s parting sentence. Could it be true that a man I had kicked with such enthusiasm and success was now about to take revenge by killing me? I was really disturbed. I was a very brave youth, but I had the most advanced ideas about being killed. On occasion of great danger I could easily and tranquilly develop a philosophy of avoidance and retirement. I had no antiquated notions about going out and getting myself killed through sheer bull-headed scorn of the other fellow’s hurting me. My father had taught me this discretion. As a soldier he claimed that he had run away from nine battles, and he would have run away from more, he said, only that all the others had turned out to be victories for his side. He was admittedly a brave man, but, more than this, he had a great deal of sense. I was the child of my father. It did not seem to me profitable to be killed for the sake of a sentiment which seemed weak and dispensable. This little villain! Should I allow him to gratify a furious revenge because I was afraid to take to my heels? I resolved to have the courage of my emotions. I would run away.