A Soldier's Trial: An Episode of the Canteen CrusadeKing, Charles
General
A Soldier's Trial: An Episode of the Canteen Crusade
King, Charles
United States. Army -- Military life -- Fiction
But the officer of the day had told a different tale, and the godless
array at the bachelor mess was still having fun with it. Félicie, the
self-styled French maid, had been from the start the object of no little
interest among the non-commissioned element in garrison. Félicie was
pious, if not actually pretty, and assiduous at first in Sunday morning
attendance at the little Catholic church in town, whither Dwight's own
horse and buggy and man were detailed to take her, for Inez could not
think of placing her educated and traveled maid in the same category and
wagon with the soldiers' wives. "Feelissy," from her very first
appearance, was by no means popular with this critical sisterhood, and
when it became evident that some of the best beaux among the sergeants
were also moved to attend early church in Silver Hill, feeling grew
strong against the usurper. Nor was the feeling modified by the fact
soon discovered that the maid had higher aspirations. She was too good
for the soldiers, said her commentators; but that goodness, said her
defamers, wasn't proof against the wiles of those who had more money.
Obviously the officers were aimed at in this observation, and it must be
owned that Félicie's expressive eyes had sometimes wandered toward the
mess, and that her glances fell not all on unresponsive others. The
night of Blenke's wandering was windy. The officer of the day's little
lantern blew out as he rounded a turn from the west gate toward the
bluff behind the post of No. 4, to the end that he stumbled on the
sentry unchallenged, and, when rebuked for his negligence, the sentry
said he was troubled about something at Major Dwight's. He could have
sworn, he said, the door to the high back stoop had opened just a moment
ago, letting quite a streak of light into the darkness for the space of
a few seconds, during which time he was almost sure he saw a slender
feminine shape disappear into the house. Now, he could swear no one had
entered the back gate for ten minutes, anyway, because he happened to be
right there. If it was a woman, as he believed, she must have been out
in the yard as much as those ten minutes, and perhaps someone was there
with her that shouldn't be there. All this had the sentry urged in
excuse of his failure to hear the approach of the officer of the day. It
was a black, moonless, starless night, and the officer concluded to
look. The board fence was high. He stepped within the gate, stumbled
over a loose plank, made quite a noise and said a few audibly profane
things as to the quartermaster's department for leaving walks in such
shape, but he could see nothing. So in a sheltered nook he struck a
match, and the instant he did so a man from the shadows lurched heavily
against him, muttered, "Giv'sh--light--o' man" and sprawled in a heap at
his feet. It proved to be Blenke, and Blenke proved to the satisfaction
of the court that he was blind drunk.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account