The Luck of Barry Lyndon by William Makepeace Thackeray (good english books to read TXT) 📕

on parade as precisely dressed as any sergeant of his troops, might have been seen galloping through the lonely streets at early dawn without a hat, his unpowdered hair streaming behind him like a madman.

“The page, with the box of papers, clattered after his master⁠—it was no easy task to follow him; and they rode from the palace to the town, and through it to the General’s quarter. The sentinels at the door were scared at the strange figure that rushed up to the General’s gate, and, not knowing him, crossed bayonets, and refused him admission. ‘Fools,’ said Weissenborn, ‘it is the Prince!’ And, jangling at the bell as if for an alarm of fire, the door was at length opened by the porter, and his Highness ran up to the Generals bedchamber, followed by the page with the box.

“ ‘Magny⁠—Magny,’ roared the Prince, thundering at the closed door, ‘get up!’ And to the queries of the old man from within, answered, ‘It is I⁠—Victor⁠—the Prince!⁠—get up!’ And presently the door was opened by the General in his robe-de-chambre, and the Prince entered. The page brought in the box, and was bidden to wait without, which he did; but there led from Monsieur de Magny’s bedroom into his antechamber two doors, the great one which formed the entrance into his room, and a smaller one which led, as the fashion is with our houses abroad, into the closet which communicates with the alcove where the bed is. The door of this was found by M. de Weissenborn to be open, and the young man was thus enabled to hear and see everything which occurred within the apartment.

“The General, somewhat nervously, asked what was the reason of so early a visit from his Highness; to which the Prince did not for a while reply, farther than by staring at him rather wildly, and pacing up and down the room.

“At last he said, ‘Here is the cause!’ dashing his fist on the box; and, as he had forgotten to bring the key with him, he went to the door for a moment, saying, ‘Weissenborn perhaps has it;’ but seeing over the stove one of the General’s couteaux de chasse, he took it down, and said, ‘That will do,’ and fell to work to burst the red trunk open with the blade of the forest knife. The point broke, and he gave an oath, but continued haggling on with the broken blade, which was better suited to his purpose than the long pointed knife, and finally succeeded in wrenching open the lid of the chest.

“ ‘What is the matter?’ said he, laughing. ‘Here’s the matter;⁠—read that!⁠—here’s more matter, read that!⁠—here’s more⁠—no, not that; that’s somebody else’s picture⁠—but here’s hers! Do you know that, Magny? My wife’s⁠—the Princess’s! Why did you and your cursed race ever come out of France, to plant your infernal wickedness wherever your feet fell, and to ruin honest German homes? What have you and yours ever had from my family but confidence and kindness? We gave you a home when you had none, and here’s our reward!’ and he flung a parcel of papers down before the old General; who saw the truth at once;⁠—he had known it long before, probably, and sank down on his chair, covering his face.

“The Prince went on gesticulating, and shrieking almost. ‘If a man injured you so, Magny, before you begot the father of that gambling lying villain yonder, you would have known how to revenge yourself. You would have killed him! Yes, would have killed him. But who’s to help me to my revenge? I’ve no equal. I can’t meet that dog of a Frenchman⁠—that pimp from Versailles⁠—and kill him, as if he had played the traitor to one of his own degree.’

“ ‘The blood of Maxime de Magny,’ said the old gentleman proudly, ‘is as good as that of any prince in Christendom.’

“ ‘Can I take it?’ cried the Prince; ‘you know I can’t. I can’t have the privilege of any other gentleman in Europe. What am I to do? Look here, Magny: I was wild when I came here; I didn’t know what to do. You’ve served me for thirty years; you’ve saved my life twice: they are all knaves and harlots about my poor old father here⁠—no honest men or women⁠—you are the only one⁠—you saved my life; tell me what am I to do?’ Thus from insulting Monsieur de Magny, the poor distracted Prince fell to supplicating him; and, at last, fairly flung himself down, and burst out in an agony of tears.

“Old Magny, one of the most rigid and cold of men on common occasions, when he saw this outbreak of passion on the Prince’s part, became, as my informant has described to me, as much affected as his master. The old man from being cold and high, suddenly fell, as it were, into the whimpering querulousness of extreme old age. He lost all sense of dignity; he went down on his knees, and broke out into all sorts of wild incoherent attempts at consolation; so much so, that Weissenborn said he could not bear to look at the scene, and actually turned away from the contemplation of it.

“But, from what followed in a few days, we may guess the results of the long interview. The Prince, when he came away from the conversation with his old servant, forgot his fatal box of papers and sent the page back for them. The General was on his knees praying in the room when the young man entered, and only stirred and looked wildly round as the other removed the packet. The Prince rode away to his hunting-lodge at three leagues from X⁠⸺, and three days after that Maxime de Magny died in prison; having made a confession that he was engaged in an attempt to rob the Jew, and that he had made away with himself, ashamed of his dishonour.

“But it is not known that it was the