Napoleonic Wars, 1800-1815 -- Fiction; War stories
Spire, still busy unpacking, glanced at his young master. He certainly
looked very quiet now, leaning on his elbow with the firelight playing
from below on his young thoughtful face with its smooth and pale
complexion. "Very good-looking indeed," thought Spire. In that
thoughtful mood he recalled very much the Sir Charles of thirty or
thirty-five years ago. Would he too find his wife abroad? There had been
women enough in Paris of every kind and degree, English and French and
all sorts. But it was a fact that Mr. Cosmo sought most of his company
amongst men, of whom also there had been no lack and of every degree. In
that, too, the young man resembled very much his father. Men's company.
But were he to get caught he would get caught properly; at any rate for
a time, reflected Spire, remembering Sir Charles Latham's rush back to
Italy, the inwardness of which had been no more revealed to him than to
the rest of the world.
Spire, approaching the candelabra, unfolded partly a very fine coat,
then refolded it before putting it away on a convenient shelf. He had a
moment of regret for his own young days. He had never married, not
because there had been any lack of women to set their caps at him, but
from a sort of half-conscious prudence. Moreover, he had a notion
somehow or other that Sir Charles would not have liked it. Perhaps it
was just as well. Now he was carefree, attending on Mr. Cosmo without
troubling his head about who had remained at home.
Spire, arranging the contents of a dressing case on the table, cast
another sidelong look at the figure by the fire. Very handsome.
Something like Sir Charles and yet not like. There was a touch of
something unusual, perhaps foreign, and yet no one with a pair of eyes
in his head could mistake Mr. Cosmo for anything but an English
gentleman.
Spire's memories of his tour with Sir Charles had been growing dim. But
he remembered enough of the old-time atmosphere to have become aware of
a feeling of tension, of a suggestion of restlessness which certainly
was new to him.
The silence had lasted very long. Cosmo before the fire had not moved.
Spire ventured on a remark.
"I notice people are excited about one thing and another hereabouts,
sir."
"Excited. I don't wonder at it. In what way?"
"Sort of discontented, sir. They don't like the Austrians, sir. You may
have noticed as we came along . . ."
"Did they like us when we held the town?"
"I can hardly say that, sir. I have been sitting for an hour or more in
the couriers' room, with all sorts of people coming in and out, and
heard very wild sort of talk."
"What can you know about its wildness?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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