Tascher's hand shook as he leaned on my shoulder, and I could feel a
convulsive twitching of his fingers as his agitation increased; but in
a second or two he recovered his self-command, and taking my hand within
both of his, he said, while the large tears were starting from his
eyes,--
“I'm glad it's you, Burke!” and then turned away, unable to say more.
It was some time before I could bring myself to credit my good fortune.
Had I been free to choose, I could have desired nothing better nor more
to my liking; and when I succeeded at length, then came my embarrassment
at my poor friend's disappointment, which must have been still more
poignant as contrasted with my success. Tascher, however, had all the
Creole warmth of temperament. The first burst over, he really enjoyed
the thought of my promotion; and we sat up the entire night talking over
plans for the future, and making a hundred resolves for contingencies,
some of which never arose, and many, when they came, suggested remedies
of their own.
At daybreak my comrade's horses came to the door, and a mounted orderly
attended to accompany him to the prison where the convoy were assembled.
We shook hands again and again. He was leaving what had been his home
for years,--Paris, the gay and brilliant city in whose pleasures he had
mixed, and whose fascinations he had tasted. I was parting from one with
whom I had lived in a friendship as close as can subsist between two
natures essentially different. We both were sad.
“Adieu, Burke!” said he, as he waved his hand for the last time. “I
hope you'll command the huitieme when next we meet.”
I hurried into the quarters, which already seemed lonely and deserted,
so soon does desolation throw its darkening shadow before it. The sword
that had hung above the chimney crosswise on my own was gone; the shako,
too, and the pistols were missing; the vacant chair stood opposite to
mine; and the isolation I felt became so painful that I wandered out
into the open air, glad to escape the sight of objects every one of
which only suggested how utterly alone I stood in the world when the
departure of one friend had left me companionless.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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