University of Virginia Library

XLII.
“COWARD! COWARD! COWARD!”

Suddenly the deep voice of Landon was heard
amid the silence.

“Dishonour you, — that person?” he said, looking
at Ratcliffe. “You are jesting, my dear lieutenant.
He can dishonour nobody.”

And, turning to the group of young officers
who were near: —

“Gentlemen of the Federal army,” said the Partisan,
with his cool, defiant smile, “I really have
some curiosity to ascertain one thing, — whether you
suspect the real character of this Ratcliffe? Shall I
enlighten your ignorance, tell you all about him,
messieurs, in a very few words? Well, your commander
is a sneak, a poltroon; he betrayed his
friend first; then he broke his parole when I, that
friend whom he had tricked, captured and released
him that he might fight me!”

“Impossible!” exclaimed the young officers.

“It is the truth! Look at his face! Let him
dare to deny it!”

And Landon fixed his steady gaze upon Ratcliffe.

The response of that personage was to raise his
pistol.

“See!” said Landon, coolly; “that is his reply
to me; the reply of a poltroon, is it not? I am a
West Pointer like himself, like yourselves, — and I
have some of the esprit du corps still left; well, I
am ashamed of that creature, for he dishonours not
only the uniform he now wears, but that which I
once wore when we were cadets.”

The young Federal officers uttered a murmur.
One of them stepped forth from the rest.

“Captain Ratcliffe,” he said, “I have no right to
question you, but you must be aware that these
charges affect the honour of the officers of the Federal
army in your person.”

Ratcliffe scowled at the speaker with an expression
of bitter menace; but it was easy to see that all the
rest agreed with the young officer.

“It is a lie!” cried Ratcliffe, hoarsely.

“What is a lie?” said Landon, coolly; “that
you made my acquaintance and fawned on me at
Lexington? — that I introduced you into society in
the Valley? — that you were a guest in my house,
my associate and friend, and yet paid your addresses
to the young lady who was affianced to me? Is that
a lie, sir? Deny it, and the young lady is yonder,
your prisoner, ready to speak. But I have not finished,
I swear to you! Is it a lie, that when you

came to hate and fear me at West Point, you wrote
anonymous letters blackening my character; stole
my engagement ring from my finger whilst I was
asleep in your quarters, and, sending it to the lady,
destroyed my happiness by that cowardly treachery?
Ah, your face is pale! You shrink! You are surprised
that I know that! It is not a lie, then, any
more than the statement that I captured you the
other day; paroled you to fight me; and that you
broke that parole, and escaped like a coward. Answer!
Did you, or did you not, break your parole
and thus dishonour your uniform? Dare to say that
you did not, and I will appeal to the brave officer
who was to have acted as your second, Lieutenant
Arden.”

And Landon pointed to Arden, who was standing
pale, disdainful, and with folded arms, in the centre
of the group.

“It is true,” he said; “Captain Ratcliffe broke
his parole.”

The Federal officers had gathered around the two
foes, facing each other. At those words from Arden,
they drew back from Ratcliffe, who was thus left
standing alone, avoided by all.

Landon's lip curled elaborately and with an unspeakable
expression of scorn. Slowly moving his
head in the direction of Ratcliffe: —

“Look!” he said; “he is afraid of me, bound as

I am. That is becoming — is it not, gentlemen? — in
one wearing your blue uniform, and holding a commission
under your Stars and Stripes.”

A hoarse murmur from the group of officers
greeted these disdainful words.

“I find that strange, gentlemen,” said Landon,
with his defiant smile, “and realize with difficulty
that you tolerate such people. For, do not think,
messieurs, that in the Southern army we rate you as
`mud-sills' and low people. I have always scorned
to make out our enemies mere ruffians and cowards;
— cowards! where were the merit of whipping you
were you such? But such men as this friend of
ours” — and he indicated Ratcliffe with the same disdainful
movement of the head — “are apt to produce
the impression that your militaires are not exactly
what General Hooker calls them, `immensely superior,
intellectually and physically,' to the Southerners.
When did a Southern officer break his parole
and sneak from a fair combat? When did a Southern
officer trick his friend, and forge, and lie?
There is the man who has done all this, and he
wears your blue uniform. In ten minutes — or so
— he is going to shoot me, with my hands bound
behind me, unarmed, because he is afraid of me, and
knows that my death alone will preserve him from
personal chastisement.”

Ratcliffe shuddered with rage, and the second

time the trigger of his pistol clicked as he cocked it;
a second time the weapon was directed at Landon.

“Look! the Partisan said, with his short, harsh
laugh; “this model United States officer is going to
shoot his disarmed enemy; and in all this company
of Federal officers, West Pointers, there is not one
to even remonstrate.”

“You are wrong!” said Arden, bounding forward.
And, facing Ratcliffe, with inexpressible scorn in
his face, he said: —

“You attempted to dishonour me by breaking
your parole yonder! You dishonour the United
States flag by your cowardly cruelty here! Well,
end all at once! Shoot me as well as your prisoner!
You have shed my brother's blood; you have disgraced
a noble cause! Life is no longer supportable
to me; come, order me to be shot! But, before you
do so, you cannot prevent me from branding you, in
the name of the officers of this army, as coward!
coward! coward!”

And, advancing a step at each repetition of the
word “coward,” Arden drew off his gauntlet, and
was about to slap Ratcliffe in the face, when suddenly
an event occurred which put an abrupt end to the
scene.