The Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"Grant, James
General
The Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"
Grant, James
Adventure stories; British -- Foreign countries -- Fiction; Soldiers -- Fiction
The rumour of this wealth could not fail to reach the ears of Don
Fabrique, and to excite the cupidity of that enterprising gentleman;
but concealing his intentions from his band, whom he intended to
leave, as he proposed to himself a little trip to Paris or Peru, if
he relieved the Alcalde of those cares which are inseparable from the
possession of wealth, he reconnoitred the house, and found an
entrance to a room wherein he secreted himself beneath a bed, which
stood in an alcove off it. In this bed the portly alcalde and his
buxom wife were wont to take their repose; so Don Fabrique had not
been very long in this place of concealment, when the lady came in
with a lamp in her hand, and placing it on the toilet table,
proceeded to divest her charming person of her habiliments.
She threw the fag end of her cigar into the brassero; hung her wig
upon a knob of the mirror, et cetera. She then dipped a finger into
the little font of holy water which hung at the head of her bed, and
stepped in, to await the coming of her worthy spouse, who was
lingering over the 'Heraldo' and a glass of Valdepenas in the
dining-room below.
Now as the bed had a canvas bottom like a hammock, and the lady
therein was equal in size and weight to three ordinary women, Don
Fabrique, with natural consternation, reflected on what he should
have to endure, when the gorbellied alcalde was added to the
superincumbent load of the señora.
"Demonio!" thought he, "what is to be done? I shall be suffocated
before that brute the señor patron is half asleep!"
The panting robber stirred uneasily, and the stout lady above him
started.
"Madre de Dios, what is that!" she whispered to herself.
There was no response; but on Fabrique stirring again, the señora
fairly sprang in terror from her bed. Fabrique dared not breathe,
but with one hand on his stiletto and the other on his lips, he lay
still as death. The lady now obtained a glimpse of his foot. and
uttering one of those shrill cries, which most women can utter at any
time, she rushed from the chamber to seek her husband; but first she
took the precaution of double-locking the door.
Finding himself discovered, and aware that all was over now, Fabrique
hastened to escape by his place of entrance, the window. Alas! it
was now secured by a shutter crossed by iron bars on the outside, and
these resisted all his efforts. There was no chimney; again he
rushed to the door. It was firm--fast as a rock, and he might as
well have rushed against the stone wall. He heard the clank of feet
and of halberts as the hastily-summoned alguazils came into the room
below; true, he had his dagger; but what would that avail him against
so many? The perspiration burst over his brow and he cursed the
avarice which brought him on such errand unassisted by that faithful
and determined band he was about to leave for ever.
Fertile in expedients, he at last thought of one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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