University of Virginia Library

3. CHAPTER III.

Late in the night of the first Sunday of April, 1865,
passion and circumstance — those two accomplished
wire-pullers—were not so busy in manœuvring hundreds
of people away from doomed homes in Richmond but
that they could also find time to arrange, in the centre
of that devoted city, a most unexpected meeting between
three parties not unknown to the readers of this
chronicle.

Philip Sterling had escaped from prison, had lain in
a fever some months at a country-house, had recovered,
and late in the afternoon of this day had entered Richmond,
emaciated to a skeleton, down-hearted for want
of news from home, down-headed for weariness, tattered
like an unsuccessful beggar, unnoticing the stir of
life in the streets. As he made his slow way through
the Capitol-grounds, the plash of a fountain met his
ear; he dragged himself to the brink of the basin, lay
down, and yielded himself to the caresses of that Sunday's
balmy air. He fell asleep, and dreamed that he
saw big wars standing up in ranks, like men, and fighting
with thunders and wild-fires. On the flanks hovered
airy pestilences skirmishing, and anon loud worldcalamities

exploded, jarring all space. Which dissolved;
and he was walking upon an immeasurable plain where
lay old dead universes, like skulls whitening on a
deserted battle-field; but presently these faded out of
sight, and the whole plain blossomed with vast odorous
violets. He plucked a petal of one, wrapped himself
in it, lay down, and fell into a dreamless sleep-within-asleep.

Later in the night, John Cranston, sitting in the
Federal line north of the James, heard a loud explosion
in Richmond, and saw a great glare shooting up from
that direction. Love, which laughs not only at locksmiths
but also at pickets and special orders, at this
moment laughed and frowned at once, in Cranston's
soul. The memory of a night when he had borne
Felix Sterling in his arms down a blazing stairs still
flamed in his heart; and the anticipation of another
such ecstasy was too much for duty.

John Cranston started for Richmond.

At an hour something earlier, also, Paul Rübetsahl
displayed more excitement than had been visible in
him during the war.

“Friends,” said he to the three, “Richmond will be
sacked by infuriated men, inhabitants and soldiers.
The women whom we all love are there, alone; the
thought that they are there, at such a time, burns my
heart. No battle will be fought here, and if I knew
one would be fought, I still would risk the apparent
dishonor of absence from it. I, for one, am going to
Richmond, to bring out the beloved, or die. Who else?”

“I!” said Aubrey without an instant's hesitation.

“I, too!” cried Flemington.

Cain Smallin grasped Rübetsahl's hand, in silence.

How they strode, those four!

“By two to-night, men!” cried Rübetsahl, striding in
the van.

Meantime Felix and Ottilie, hearing the news late in
the day, had made great attempts to move, that they
might get to Petersburg. But what chance stood two
women in Richmond on the 2d of April, 1865? At last,
after dark, they had sent Gretchen to Mrs. Parven's,
beyond the Capitol, to beg her assistance. Gretchen
had not returned; they feared she was killed at last.
They sat still, pale with apprehension, and shuddering
at the terrible cries that resounded from the streets.

Suddenly, a tap sounded on the door, and a voice
said, “Come, come!” impatiently. Ottilie ran and
opened the door.

“It is Rübetsahl, Felix!”

Without a word, they descended the steps. At the
front door a wild figure rushed in and nearly overturned
big Rübetsahl. Unnoticing, Paul kept on; but the
other turned, with a quick cry, and then silently placed
himself in the phalanx which the four had formed
around the women.

Slowly, they marshalled the precious charge across
the street. Front, flank, and rear, the phalanx struggled
hard to keep the princesses in the centre from insult or
blow of hurrying rascaldom, hurrying to or from the
raging fires, laden with booty and seeking more.

At length they neared the Capitol gates. As Rübetsahl

opened it, Gretchen, with a whine, like a faithful
spaniel, grasped Ottilie and drew her on.

“Oh, I could not get back to you,” she cried, “and I
was about to die! Here are our friends — the Parvens
— they came with me so far.”

Cranston had stopped at the gate, and stood in the
shadow, for the whole grounds were lit, as with daylight,
by the fires that were consuming the city. He saw
Felix, with a yearning smile as of a lost goddess finding
heaven, twine her arms about Rübetsahl's neck.
He grasped the iron pillar; it shook with his trembling
a moment, then he folded his arms and remained still,
in the Shadow.

“For God's sake,” cried Flemington, “let us draw
breath here a moment,” and sank down exhausted, by
the fountain.

Philip Sterling opened his eyes. He refused to
believe them, at first; but quickly sprang upon Rübetsahl,
the first he saw; then discovered Ottilie, and drew
her to him.

She instantly released herself, and sank upon her
knees.

“Himmel!” said Paul Rübetsahl.

The contagion grew. Aubrey caught Rebecca Parven
by the hand, and whirled her to a bench that was
in the shade of a tree.

“Cospetto!” exclaimed Paul Rübetsahl.

“Cain, they 're all paired, and nobody left save you
and me. But, Old Bony Fingers,” continued Flemington,
grasping Cain's extended hand, “you are more
faithful than many a woman, and so I keep this hand
by me, till I find one fairer and half as true!”

“Cielo!” Then, looking down into the deep gray
eyes that yearned upward passionately into his own, “I,
the wanderer among mountains, pray: May we build
our nests upon the strongest bough of the great tree
Ygdrasil, and may love line them soft and warm, and
may the storms be kind to them! Amen, and Amen!”
said Paul Rübetsahl.