32. XXXII.
BEAUREGARD.
I HAD scarcely come to realize that Miss Grafton had disappeared,
when my attention was attracted by the noise of horses'
hoofs coming from the direction of Stonebridge.
“Halt! who goes there?” was Mordaunt's quick summons.
“Friends,” said a firm and sonorous voice. “What picket is
this?”
“It is General Beauregard,” Mordaunt said to me, and he
added:
“Advance, General—I am Captain Mordaunt.”
“Ah! an amateur picket?” said General Beauregard, riding
up, followed by a staff officer and an orderly. “I have been the
rounds, and am glad to find you on the qui vive, Captain—but
that you always are. I wish the infantry were as vigilant. The
picket at Stonebridge has actually allowed a wagon with two
women to pass to-night toward Alexandria, contrary to all my
orders.”
Then Miss Grafton and her companion had gone in that direction.
After a few words more, Mordaunt presented me to General
Beauregard, and, declaring that he must return to inspect his
pickets, took leave of us. In a moment he had disappeared, and
I turned to General Beauregard, who had greeted me with grave
courtesy.
“I have a dispatch, General.”
And I handed it to him.
“Thank you, Captain; I will read it at once.”
And, making a sign to his orderly, he soon had a light. As the
wind was near putting it out, he dismounted and entered the
deserted house, where, leaning against the old table, he read
General Johnston's note.
As he did so, I looked with much interest at the “Man of
Sumter.” His appearance was decidedly French, and realized
my conception of Napoleon's marshals. He was apparently
about forty-five or fifty years of age; of medium height; gaunt,
square built, and wearing the blue dress-coat of the United States
Army, buttoned to the chin, on each side of which rose the points
of a stiff white collar. The forehead, half covered by a Zouave
cap, was broad, with thin, dark hair at the temples; the complexion
sallow and brunette; the eyes large, black, and thoughtful;
the thin lips nearly concealed by a heavy black mustache.
The powerful jaw indicated hard “fight” in its possessor, and
in the slumberous eye I read something of the dormant fire of
the bloodhound.
The face was wholly un-Virginian—rather a creole, tropical
countenance; but there was a noble simplicity in its expression,
and a vigor in the poise of the head which made a strong impression
upon me. A single glance told me that this man possessed
military genius.
“I have read the dispatch you were good enough to bring,
Captain,” said the General, issuing forth and mounting his horse,
“and I will be glad if you will be my guest for a day or two. I
wish both to ask you a great many questions, and to ride over
and show you the ground here. It is desirable that General
Jolmston should have an officer near him who has examined it—
as you doubtless understand.”
I bowed; assured the General that I was entirely at his orders;
and rode back with him to Manassas, where he had his
head-quarters in a small farm-house.
An hour afterward I was shown to an apartment containing
a comfortable pallet; but the singular events which I had witnessed
at the Stone House kept me awake until long past midnight.
Finally I sank to sleep.
