The House by the Churchyard / Дом у кладбища. Джозеф Шеридан Ле Фаню

'and you see – I say – eh! I think they're breaking up, a – and – I say – I – it seems all over – eh – and so, dear colonel, I must take my leave, and —'

      And after a lingering look, he shut up his glass, and walking thoughtfully back with his friend, said suddenly —

      'And, now I think of it – it could not be that – Puddock, you know, would not suffer the priest to sit in the same coach with such a design – Puddock's a good officer, eh! and knows his duty.'

      A few hours afterwards, General Chattesworth, having just dismounted outside the Artillery barracks, to his surprise, met Puddock and O'Flaherty walking leisurely in the street of Chapelizod. O'Flaherty looked pale and shaky, and rather wild; and the general returned his salute, looking deuced hard at him, and wondering all the time in what part of his body (in his phrase) 'he had got it;' and how the plague the doctors had put him so soon on his legs again.

      'Ha, Lieutenant Puddock,' with a smile, which Puddock thought significant – 'give you good-evening, Sir. Dr. Toole anywhere about, or have you seen Sturk?'

      'No, he had not.'

      The general wanted to hear by accident, or in confidence, all about it; and having engaged Puddock in talk, that officer followed by his side.

      'I should be glad of the honour of your company, Lieutenant Puddock, to dinner this evening – Sturk comes, and Captain Cluffe, and this wonderful Mr. Dangerfield too, of whom we all heard so much at mess, at five o'clock, if the invitation's not too late.'

      The lieutenant acknowledged and accepted, with a blush and a very low bow, his commanding officer's hospitality; in fact, there was a tendre in the direction of Belmont, and little Puddock had inscribed in his private book many charming stanzas of various lengths and structures, in which the name of 'Gertrude' was of frequent recurrence.

      'And – a – I say, Puddock – Lieutenant O'Flaherty, I thought – I–I thought, d'ye see, just now, eh? (he looked inquisitively, but there was no answer); I thought, I say, he looked devilish out of sorts, is he – a – ill?'

      'He was very ill, indeed, this afternoon, general; a sudden attack – '

      The general looked quickly at Puddock's plump, consequential face; but there was no further light in it. 'He was hurt then, I knew it' – he thought – 'who's attending him – and why is he out – and was it a flesh-wound – or where was it?' all these questions silently, but vehemently, solicited an answer – and he repeated the last aloud, in a careless sort of way.

      'And – a – Lieutenant Puddock, you were saying – a – tell me – now – where was it?'

      'In the park, general,' said Puddock, in perfect good faith.

      'Eh? ah! in the park, was it? but I want to know, you know, what part of the body – d'ye see – the shoulder – or? – '

      'The duodenum, Dr. Toole called it – just here, general,' and he pressed his fingers to what is vulgarly known as the 'pit' of his stomach.

      'What, Sir, do you mean to say the pit of his stomach?' said the general, with more horror and indignation than he often showed.

      'Yes, just about that point, general, and the pain was very violent indeed,' answered Puddock, looking with a puzzled stare at the general's stern and horrified countenance – an officer might have a pain in his stomach, he thought, without exciting all that emotion. Had he heard of the poison, and did he know more of the working of such things than, perhaps, the doctors did?

      'And what in the name of Bedlam, Sir, does he mean by walking about the town with a hole through his – his what's his name? I'm hanged but I'll place him under arrest this moment,' the general thundered, and his little eyes swept the perspective this way and that, as if they would leap from their sockets, in search of the reckless O'Flaherty. 'Where's the adjutant, Sir?' he bellowed with a crimson scowl and a stamp, to the unoffending sentry.

      'That's the way to make him lie quiet, and keep his bed till he heals, Sir.'

      Puddock explained, and the storm subsided, rumbling off in half a dozen testy assertions on the general's part that he, Puddock, had distinctly used the word 'wounded,' and now and then renewing faintly, in a muttered explosion, on the troubles and worries of his command, and a great many 'pshaws!' and several fits of coughing, for the general continued out of breath for some time. He had showed his cards, however, and so, in a dignified disconcerted sort of way, he told Puddock that he had heard something about O'Flaherty's having got most improperly into a foolish quarrel, and having met Nutter that afternoon, and for a moment feared he might have been hurt; and then came enquiries about Nutter, and there appeared to have been no one hurt, and yet the parties on the ground – and no fighting – and yet no reconciliation – and, in fact, the general was so puzzled with this conundrum, and so curious, that he was very near calling after Puddock, when they parted at the bridge, and making him entertain him, at some cost of consistency, with the whole story.

      So Puddock – his head full of delicious visions – marched homeward – to powder and perfume, and otherwise equip for that banquet of the gods, of which he was to partake at five o'clock, and just as he turned the corner at 'The Phœnix,' who should he behold, sailing down the Dublin road from the King's House, with a grand powdered footman, bearing his cane of office, and a great bouquet behind her, and Gertrude Chattesworth by her side, but the splendid and formidable Aunt Becky, who had just been paying her compliments to old Mrs. Colonel Stafford, from whom she had heard all about the duel. So as Puddock's fat cheeks grew pink at sight of Miss Gertrude, all Aunt Becky's colour flushed into her face, as her keen eye pierced the unconscious lieutenant from afar off, and chin and nose high in air, her mouth just a little tucked in, as it were, at one corner – a certain sign of coming storm – an angry hectic in each cheek, a fierce flirt of her fan, and two or three short sniffs that betokened mischief – she quickened her pace, leaving her niece a good way in the rear, in her haste to engage the enemy. Before she came up she commenced the action at a long range, and very abruptly – for an effective rhetorician of Aunt Becky's sort, jumps at once, like a good epic poet, in medias res; and as Nutter, who, like all her friends in turn, experienced once or twice 'a taste of her quality,' observed to his wife, 'by Jove, that woman says things for which she ought to be put in the watch-house.' So now and here she maintained her reputation —

      'You ought to be flogged, Sir; yes,' she insisted, answering Puddock's bewildered stare, 'tied up to the halberts and flogged.'

      Aunt Rebecca was accompanied by at least half a dozen lap-dogs, and those intelligent brutes, aware of his disgrace, beset poor Puddock's legs with a furious vociferation.

      'Madam,' said he, his ears tingling, and making a prodigious low bow; 'commissioned officers are never flogged.'

      'so much the worse for the service, Sir; and the sooner they abolish that anomalous distinction the better. I'd have them begin, Sir, with you, and your accomplice in murder, Lieutenant O'Flaherty.'

      'Madam! your most obedient humble servant,' said Puddock, with another bow, still more ceremonious, flushing up intensely to the very roots of his powdered hair, and feeling in his swelling heart that all the generals of all the armies of Europe dare not have held such language to him.

      'Good-evening, Sir,' said Aunt Becky, with an energetic toss of her head, having discharged her shot; and with an averted countenance, and in high disdain, she swept grandly on, quite forgetting her niece, who said a pleasant word or two to Puddock as she passed, and smiled so kindly, and seemed so entirely unconscious of his mortification, that he was quite consoled, and on the whole was made happy and elated by the rencontre, and went home to his wash-balls and perfumes in a hopeful and radiant, though somewhat excited state.

      Indeed, the little lieutenant knew that kind-hearted termagant, Aunt Becky, too well, to be long cast down or even flurried by her onset. When the same little Puddock, about a year ago, had that ugly attack of pleurisy, and was so low and so long about recovering, and so puny and fastidious in appetite, she treated him as kindly as if he were her own son, in the matter of jellies, strong soups, and curious light wines, and had afterwards lent him some good books which the little lieutenant had read through, like a man of honour