The following is a Gaslight etext....

Creative Commons : no commercial use
Gaslight Weekly, vol 01 #005

A message to you about copyright and permissions



from The Welsh Review,
Vol 01, no 07 (1892-may), pp731-37


 

The Blue Bandit of the Bread Mountains.

CHAPTER I.

ALONE he stood upon the scaffold, and the breeze blowing back his raven-black hair, thus addressed the aristocratic assemblage:

       "My Lord Duke, my lords, ladies, and gentlemen — and in this comprehensive title I include the chaplain and the executioner — I declare on my honour that I am not guilty of the crime that has been laid to my charge, and for the commission of which I must shortly die. I did not shoot my mother-in-law; no, by the walls of this grim Newgate, I swear I did not."

       He was overcome by his feelings, and, looking up into the blue empyrean, wept. The audience were greatly affected, and also wept. It was "a crying shame" the burly executioner said, between his sobs; while the governor broke down completely, and asked for "a brandy and soda." It was speedily brought, and Montmorency Salvator Nobell, baring his bosom to the winds of heaven, continued:

       "I am now thirty years of age, and thirty years ago I was born. I am, or rather was, until he disinherited me, the son of an earl, who basely refusing to support me, drove me headlong into matrimony. I never loved my wife, I hated my mother-in-law. Both are now dead. Alas! I love another — but no matter. Miranda Perkins, the daughter of the landlord of the Plough, I love. I am not guilty of murder. Oh, this is too much."

       He took a silk handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to the lady who sat in the first seat in row number one, merely saying, "With my kindest regards;" She kissed it, and put it in her bag. It was not too dear; — her seat, booked at Mitchell's a fortnight back, had cost only twenty pounds, and the gift alone was worth that sum. They had never been introduced; but a great criminal is entitled to certain privileges.

       The lady was "the Countess of Minosall." To the other stall-holder he gave a ring, obtained, in addition to an acidulated "drop," in a "surprise packet," price one penny cash down; and so on until of the spectators only one was without some token of esteem, and to him was given an order for the pit at the Lyceum, "by favour of Mr. Henry Irving."

       Then he beckoned to the shrinking executioner, and in strong, clear, resonant tones expressed his willingness to allow the law to take its course. "How considerate," the audience murmured; but he nodded pathetically, if approvingly, and the preparations were proceeded with.

.       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .      .

       One minute longer, and it would have been late, but as it was, just in time the cry of "Reprieve!" rent the air, and, pursued by six warders, a young girl flew rather than ran into the yard. "Stop!" she cried. "I hold a reprieve and pardon for the prisoner. He is not guilty. The 'Boots' confessed last night!" and she sank fainting to the ground.

       In less than a minute Nobell had burst his bonds, and was holding Miranda Perkins in his arms.

       "She lives," he cried, triumphantly, felling to the earth, in the exuberance of his delight, the Press Association reporter whose undignified and untimely protest was not heeded. "My darling, I am free; we leave England to-night."

       "To-night," said Lady Minosall, who was deathly pale; "then you won't dine with me?"

       "I regret to be obliged to plead a prior engagement."

       From that moment Montmorency Salvator Nobell was a different man.

       Who was he then?

       Ah, that is the question!


CHAPTER II.

TEN quadrillion, ten trillion, ten billion, ten million, ten thousand, ten hundred and ten years, ten months, ten weeks, ten days, ten hours, ten minutes, and ten seconds had elapsed since Montmorency Salvator Nobell and Miranda Perkins had been joined together in holy matrimony, and yet they still lived. Why and wherefore! The answer is simple and easily expressed. During their travels in foreign climes they had tasted of the waters of Burton, a remote district in Bessarabia, and thereby gained perpetual youth. So also had a Page Boy, who had met them at the door of the prison when Nobell was released, and having purchased their tickets for "nowhere," had never left them during all these years. The Page bore the name of Cheero.

       (N.B. — We must again use asterisks.)

.       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .      .

       "What ho, there!" a voice cried from within the Blue Bandit's mansion.

       "Does my Lord speak?" a woman asked, quietly.

       "My wife," and Nobell (for he was the famous Blue Bandit of the Bread Mountains), enfolded her in his arms.

       "Miranda," and, fondly, "you did catch the workmen's train, then, and saved —–"

       "Twopence," she said, modestly.

       "My warrior wife," and he pressed twenty burning kisses on her mouth, "for a long, long time you shared poverty with me, and when I founded the 'Blue Bandit gang' you helped me. Ah! Miranda, look around. What do you see?"

       She paused momentarily, and then, with flashing eyes and heaving bosom, in gentle tones, said, "I see a palace which covers three miles of land. I see a palace made of gold and studded with precious stones. I see five hundred men ready to do your bidding. I see a plethora of valuables and a lack of necessaries. My Blue Bandit, I die for food."

       "Come hither," he said to a servant, and, detaching a pound of diamonds of the finest water from the door-knob, bade the menial run to the local pawnbroker and obtain a loan on them. He did as he was ordered, and in less than five minutes returned. with sevenpence three farthings, which he deposited with the "Lord High Chamberlain." Miranda's eyes glistened with delight, but Nobell's face darkened as he scornfully glanced at the coins, and instantly ordered the execution of the menial, who was instantly led shrieking to meet his doom.

       "The jewels were worth a shilling," Nobell said, ominously, and six waiters dropped dead from fright.

       "We shall have cheese to-night," Miranda, hysterically, cried.

       "Yes, but no tomatoes," her husband replied.

       "Slaves, throw open the banquetting hall."

       The Page Boy had heard all.


CHAPTER III.

THE Palace in which the "Blue Bandit" lived was a wonderful monument of architectural skill and opulent magnificence; and a short description of it may not be out of place here. Its extent was three square miles, its walls were of the purest gold, its doors were coagulated rubies, its windows diamonds, and its floors Parian marble; truly a grand palace. But Nobell and Miranda were not happy. The reason has already been hinted at; there was a scarcity of food, which was due to the fact that the "stores" having either bought out or "cornered," all the small shopkeepers had afterwards, in consequence of a grossly material affection for "profits," put up their shutters and left Burton "shopless" and the inhabitants "foodless." Terrible, but true. Food was now at a premium, and the Blue Bandit was frequently hungry, his wife being invariably in that unpleasant predicament; — the "Page Boy" never ate, he lived by suction.

       "I see the sapphire cart nearing the palace," said Cheero; "and in it I see two bags of coal."

       "Two only!"

       "Yes, noble Blue Bandit, I see but two; oh, do not tear out your hair thus wildly, it is cruel to me."

       "To you, insolent youth!" and, turning to the guards: "Throw him into the lowest dungeon, and put one of Rudyard Kipling's books upon his head."

       "Is not one too heavy, my liege, for so youthful a stripling; shall it not be a few pages of George Meredith, which will answer the purpose equally well?"

       "Silence, caitiff; away with him," and Cheero was dragged off to the subterranean prison, where he lay moaning until the grey hues of early morning had displaced the rosy flush of sunset.

       But the Bandit, what of him? Was he happy? No, most emphatically, most indisputably, no! The unfounded accusation made millions of years ago against him had sullied his whole life, soured his disposition, and crushed all Hope out of him. He was miserable, but beloved, for Miranda was true to him — and the Page-Boy! — but, soft — "Why is it," he thought, when tossing that night on his satin mattress, "that I have changed so greatly in the last billion years? Fate is cruel. Ha, ha! what is this which overclouds my mental vision and hangs heavily over me! Who is this smoking a cigarette at the foot of my bed? What, Cheero! Great Scott! Speak," but no sign did the Spirit give of life. "Art thou a ghost?"

       The Spirit nodded affirmatively.

       "I will follow thee." He jumped out of bed, and putting on an emerald-studded silk smoking jacket, followed his dismal visitor downstairs, his heart throbbing with delight as he thought of yet another discovery of untold treasure. Meanwhile, where was Miranda? She reposed on a silken (her husband preferred satin) couch, and knew nothing of the Blue Bandit's nocturnal voyage of search.


CHAPTER IV.

ACROSS the long corridor, through the hall, and down the front doorsteps went the Spirit, and in his wake Nobell followed. . . . They stopped, — the passage to the subterranean dungeon had been reached. The guards were sleeping at the entrance — of which fact their chief made a note in his "Punishment" Book — and the Spirit entered. The place was filled with the electric light. It was icy cold, but Nobell pressed on, or, rather, down the steps. It was a wonderful passage; the spiral staircase had been roughly hewn out of diamond blocks, which were overlaid with molten gold, and the balusters were delicately chiselled ivory columns; Above, the ceiling was "hand-painted," and the walls were covered with tapestry of the richest design and most gorgeous stuffs. Its length was unknown, in fact, even now a party of explorers were engaged in the task of its ascertainment. They had been absent for two hundred and fifty thousand years; but although telegrams were sent bi-monthly, it seemed that they had got no nearer to the end of the passage than their ancestors who had initiated the search. The subterranean dungeon was, however, but half a mile from the entrance. Into this Nobell made his way, and, switching on the light, looked around. The Spirit had vanished, and reclining in a recumbent position, reading "The Life of Madame Blavatsky," was the Page Boy.

       "My liege," he cried, "I welcome you to my humble cot."

       The Blue Bandit trembled. "The ghost I saw lately, where is he, she, or it?"

       "Forgive me," he appealed, "but I am the ghost. I precipitated myself into your room but a few minutes ago."

       "You."

       "Yes, I. Spare me," seeing him about to draw his sword and wreak instant vengeance on his slender form. "Do not risk 'fourteen days, without the option.' Spare me; I love you."

       "Man!"

       "No, woman. I am the Countess of Minosall, to whom you gave a handkerchief in the yard of Newgate Prison, and that relic I now produce."

       She gave it to him, and bathed his hands with her tears.

       "And you have done all this for me!"

       "Even so."

       "My poor girl." His utterance was choked by emotion, and mutely he embraced her.

       "Your kisses are a sufficient reward for my long years of service, and I now do not repent having accompanied you and your wife —–

       "No longer;" he wildly interrupted. "I divorce her to-morrow. I love only you, dearest Lady Minosall."

       "No, no," she cried, darting away from him. "You must not speak thus. I am even now evaporating. I have swallowed an ounce of sugar-candy, and my life is fast giving out."

       Horrified, he gazed at her. "What can I do?" he asked madly.

       "Nothing."

       There was a fizz and a bang, and the Disembodied Spirit of the gallant "Page Boy" sailed through the roof and was quickly lost to sight.

.       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .      .

       The Blue Bandit stood meditatively regarding the handkerchief.


CHAPTER V.

ANOTHER quadrillion years had passed, and the Blue Bandit and his wife were becoming just a little bit weary of eternal existence. Since the Page had left, things had gone badly with them. The price of provisions was very high, and precious stones practically possessed no purchasing power at all. Miranda had consulted a doctor, who told her that he perceived no signs of approaching death, and warned her that the disease, unless taken in hand soon, might become incapable of cure. Nobell himself was duly anxious, and thought that a change in form might prove beneficial to his health. His wife agreed with him, and a large reward was offered for two ounces of sugar candy.

       The reward had the desired effect, the candy was procured, and the Blue Bandit summoned his people together to take a last farewell of them.

       They came, and to each person — man, woman, or child — was given a ton of diamonds, a quartern (household), and an orange, which somewhat reconciled them to the departure of the chief they loved and the woman they adored.

       Then, still further to lighten their loss, and render their sorrow less insupportable, the Blue Bandit spoke for three hours on the whole duty of man, and wound up by commending each and every of them to the care of each and every of them.

       "To your own selves be true — in other words, look well after yourselves, and that is the sum total of my advice; and now, waiter, the candy.

.       .       .       .       .       .       .       .       .      .

(More asterisks again!)

       Later in the afternoon of that day, three Spirits might have been seen floating about in the cloudless sky.

       Two were the Blue Bandit and Miranda, and the other was the "Page" who died for love of the Blue Bandit.

RIDER-HAGGARD-DUMAS-STEVENSON-FLAUBERT-LONGBOW.       

IMAGE CREDITS: