“here we are!” steve joyously exclaimed, as the last one of the plotters arrived at the rendezvous in mr. lawrence’s garden. “and now, then, let us go to work.”

“are you perfectly sure this marmaduke will believe the letter is genuine, and fly to the rescue?” henry asked dubiously.

[288]

“he would believe anything, henry,” charles rejoined “and the more romantic the letter is, the more he will believe it.”

“why,” said steve, “i shouldn’t be surprised if he falls in love when he meets you all tricked up—tricked out—as a heroine!”

henry smiled grimly, but said nothing.

“oh, no,” said george dogmatically. “henry’s eyes are blue, and so are marmaduke’s; and you know—at least, i’ve often read—that people alike in that respect seldom fall in love with each other.”

oh, how indignant henry was! who was this impertinent little boy, who had opinions (and such opinions!) on all topics?

“are you in the habit of reading love-stories?” he asked curiously.

“no,” said the sage slowly, “i’ve never read many genuine love-stories; i don’t care much for them; they’re not solid enough.”

“you’ll see the day when you’ll care to read nothing else,” said henry, melodramatically.

perceiving that the plotters were looking at him intently, he said hurriedly, for he did not wish these boys to guess his secret, “you haven’t told me yet when the plot is to come off.”

“we never settled that ourselves; but if to-morrow evening is pleasant, let us go then,” said will.

“we have had so many unfortunate expeditions in the night that i think we had better set some other time,” the sage observed.

“the evening is the time, of course;” said henry decisively. “we can take care of ourselves, i think, if we try. to-morrow forenoon i must disguise myself and go and see this old house with some of you; and then, as we are coming back, if the rest of you could come up with marmaduke, i could hide, and look on while he ‘finds’ the letter. have you settled that point yet?”

“yes,” said charles, “we planned to fix the letter in a bottle, and fling it into the river a few rods above him. the river, you know, flows past the house; so that when[289] he reads the letter he’ll think the prisoner threw the concern into the river, and that it floated down. marmaduke will think that is romance itself.”

“i understand,” henry commented; “and when we write the letter we can say something to that effect. now, what do you say to mixing up a priest in the plot?”

“a priest?” they asked, at a loss to guess his intent.

“yes, a poor old priest, that found out the villain in his capturing schemes, and had to be seized and brought along, or else made away with.

“i—i don’t—see why,” charles stammered.

“will tells me that marmaduke is to suppose i’m the captive, and that i’m to be dressed accordingly,” henry said lazily. “now, if you boys can’t see what i mean, keep your eyes and ears open, and when the time comes, there will be so much the more sport for you.”

the plotters did not see what henry was driving at; but, thinking it must be an “improvement” that had suggested itself to him, they were content to wait.

“now, we must all swear that none of us will laugh, no matter how droll things may be,” will observed.

henry could never be guilty of such a misdemeanor. he was a boy who could do and say the most absurdly ridiculous things without the slightest smile on his face; and the others had tolerable control over their facial muscles.

“don’t be too hard on marmaduke, henry;” said charles, still at a loss to conjecture to what use the imaginary priest was to be put, and beginning to fear that some great danger menaced hapless marmaduke.

“i will be careful,” henry replied.

“about the letter—let us write it,” steve cried, impatiently.

“i have the materials to write it in the rough,” said henry. “to-night i shall polish it, and write it off on french note paper, and to-morrow i shall hand it over to you.”

“make the letter very strong,” charles suggested. “the more extraordinary and whimsical it is, the more[290] poor deluded marmaduke will be delighted. poor fellow, if it is hard to make it out, he will stammer over it till his face and hands get damp with sweat.”

“doesn’t he understand french very well?” henry asked.

“none of us do,” charles dolefully acknowledged.

“well, is he in the habit of wandering through the dictionary?”

“i—don’t—know,” said charles, wondering what henry was driving at now.

“well, then, i will run the risk,” said the master-plotter, like the hero he was.

not allowing the curious boys to ask any questions, he continued: “as you don’t understand french very well, i must read the letter carefully to you to-morrow, for it would be jolly fun if none of you could make it out. well, fire ahead, and i’ll write; but after i polish it, your letter may be very different from the original draft.”

with that he produced pencil and paper, and then slowly, like a blood-thirsty author hatching his plot, a draught was made of the letter; each particular, as it occurred to the boys, being set down at random. when finished, it was, like will’s letter, so incoherent that it would give a person a headache to read it. but in their own room that night henry wrote and “polished,” whilst will looked for words and phrases in his dictionary. they worked long and carefully, and about midnight the letter was transcribed for the last time; and with dizzy head and heavy, blinking eyes, poor henry tumbled into bed, saying, drowsily, “i have portentous ap—apprehensions that by—by to-morrow night—i shall need—need some—some cayenne pepper mixture.”

but he slept long and well, and felt himself again the next morning.

we give the letter in french, just as henry wrote it. this is not done because of a morbid love of writing something in a foreign language—which seems to be so strong in some people, whether they understand it or not—but because of three very good reasons: first, to show[291] the length to which the boys went in carrying out their plot; secondly, to give the good-natured reader an insight into henry’s character—for a man is best known by his writings; thirdly, because it is a well-known fact that intelligent youths who are studying a foreign language have an eager desire to read, or attempt to read, whatever they can find in that language; and it is well to gratify such healthy desires.

after holding forth in this strain, perhaps it will be as well to observe, that the youth who expects to perfect himself in french by a careful perusal of this letter will be most bitterly deceived.

one word more: henry, and henry only, is responsible for this letter, therefore all the praise must be given to him. but is it reasonable to suppose that the french academy will survive the publication of this letter?

the envelope enclosing the letter bore the following superscription:

“a celui qui trouvera: lisez le contenu de cette lettre sans délai!”

“to the finder: read the contents of this letter without delay!” as henry read it to the boys.

that is good; that is orthodox.

the letter ran as follows:

o lecteur, je suis prisonnière! un méchant homme m’a prise, et m’a emportée de mon pays. je suis la fille d’un des seigneurs de la france, le duc de la chaloupe en poitou. un des ennemis de mon père—quoiqu’il soit le meilleur homme du monde, il ne laisse pas d’avoir ses adversaires, mais c’est parce qu’il est favori de notre empereur puissant, napoléon trois—je répète, un de ses ennemis, un faquin impitoyable—un misérable—un démon, considéra tous les moyens de le perdre.

enfin, voyant qu’il n’a pas d’autre moyen de blesser mon papa, ce monstre résout de lui dérober sa fille. il ourdit finement sa trame, et conspire à dresser des emb?ches pour m’attraper. il fait emplette d’un yacht à vapeur, un vaisseau bon voilier, et il l’équipe. puis il ancre dans une petite crique, près du chateau de mon père.[292] ne songeant pas au danger, mon précepteur et moi nous sortons pour voir ce vaisseau étranger; et en nous promenant le long du rivage le capitaine nous prie d’aller à bord, pour en faire le tour. nous le font; mais à peine sommes-nous montés sur la tillée, qu’on nous saisit et nous enferme dans deux petites cabines! o perfide! il s’empare facilement de sa prise! et moi! depuis ce moment j’ai éprouvé beaucoup de malheurs.

ses dr?les ingambes se mettent en train; l’équipage lève tout de suite l’ancre; le pompier vole à sa pompe à feu; les matelots déferlent les voiles; bient?t le yacht vogue; tout à l’heure il marche à pleines voiles. la fenêtre treillissée de ma cabine, ou prison, donne sur la demeure de mes ancêtres, et je vois courir ?a et là nos serviteurs, avec des cris aigres de chagrin et d’horreur. trop tard! le maroufle s’évade avec sa captive! oh, mon cher père et ma chère mère! qu’êtes-vous devenus!

le yacht a marché quelques heures quand il entre un homme dans ma cabine, suivi de mon précepteur, le bon prêtre. je reconnais bél?tre scélérat, l’ennemi de mon papa! c’est lui qui m’a captivée. “tranquillisez-vous,” me dit-il; “je ne vous ferai pas de mal. je suis l’ennemi de votre père le duc, mais je ne suis point votre ennemi. j’en userai bien avec vous, tant que vous n’essaierez pas de vous échapper. ce prêtre sera votre instituteur comme a l’ordinaire; et vous pouvez y être aussi heureuse que si vous étiez chez vos parents.” je le prie de me rendre, mais j’ai beau supplier. le prêtre, à son tour, raisonne avec lui, mais le monstre hausse les épaules et il est sourd à nos prières.

après un voyage de long cours nous abordons en amérique—c’est-à-dire, je crois que c’est ce pays. un complice de mon capteur l’aide a transporter le prêtre et moi dans le sein du pays, où l’on a préparé une prison pour nous. je fus captivée le cinq mai; c’est maintenant le dix juillet. il y a donc soixante-six jours que je n’ai vu mes parents! j’ai passé le temps dans solitude et tristesse. le bon prêtre m’encourage, mais il est le seul sur qui je puisse compter. ah! je deviendrai folle si personne ne vient me secourir.

[293]

il semble que je sois près d’un chemin de fer, parce que j’entends quelquefois le hennissement du cheval de fer. la prison dans laquelle je me trouve couronne la cime d’une petite colline, auprès laquelle il serpente un beau courant. quant à la prison, elle est fortifiée en forteresse; et le prêtre et moi nous sommes gardés comme des bêtes sauvages par les guichetiers durs. le voisinage est la solitude même. pour surcro?t de malheur, la place est l’abord de revenants! j’avais coutume chez moi de rire de l’idée de spectres, mais j’ai vu dans cette prison une infinité d’affreuses apparitions, de lutins ailés.

bél?tre scélérat nous traite passablement, c’est-à-dire, il ne nous menace pas. il ne nous voit pas souvent, comme il va partout le pays, pour conférer avec ses agents, ou bien il court la mer en forban. ses ge?liers, pourtant, ont soin de nous, et ils nous gardent rigoureusement. je n’ai jamais été hors de l’enclos, et toutes les fois que j’y vais pour aspirer de l’air frais les ge?liers montent la garde pour me surveiller. bél?tre scélérat dit qu’il m’affranchira aussit?t que mon papa lui paiera une ran?on énorme; mais il ajoute qu’il compte me tenir prisonnière long-temps, pour que mon papa paie la ran?on promptement.

j’ai écrit cette lettre en secret, et j’ai dessein de la mettre en s?reté dans une bouteille. puis j’essaierai de la jeter dans le ruisseau, dans l’espérance que quelqu’un la trouvera. lecteur, ayez pitié de moi! venez à mes secours, ou c’est fait de moi! je vis en espoir d’être sauvée. suivez le cours dans lequel vous trouvez cette lettre, et vous arriverez à la maison qui est ma prison. si vous ne pourrez me délivrer, envoyez ma lettre au duc de la chaloupe, et il viendra avec une armée pour me sauver. hélas! peut-être mon illustre père est-il mort!

si le lecteur est à même de me sauver qu’il se dépêche car bél?tre scélérat ne sera pas à la maison cette semaine, et les gardes sont plus poltrons que braves. ainsi mon élargissement se fera aisément! mon père le duc récompensera qui que ce soit qui me sauve, j’en suis s?re. peut-être sa majesté l’empereur desire-t-il[294] encore un général. voulez-vous être ce personage honoré? mon père le duc est un de ses conseillers:—le sage entend à demi-mot!

j’écris mon placet en fran?ais, parce que je n’entends bien aucun autre langage; mais si le découvreur n’est pas en état de le prouver,—c’est-à-dire, si je suis en amérique, où l’on ne parle point fran?ais, il ne faudra pas qu’il la détruise. il pourra trouver aux environs quelqu’un qui sait le fran?ais, car ma langue incomparable est sue par toutes les parties de la terre.

j’attends ma liberté. venez avec des hommes braves, et les projets de mon persécuteur seront renversés. hatez vous.

sauterelle hirondelle de la chaloupe.

this is the letter as henry wrote it. lest the reader should not be able to make out this “langue incomparable” as rendered by him, we give the translation which he gave to his admiring fellow-plotters next morning.

oh reader, i am a prisoner! a wicked man has captured me and taken me away from my country. i am the daughter of one of the lords of france, the duke de la chaloupe, in poitou. an enemy of my father—although he is the best man in the world he has his enemies, nevertheless, but it is because he is a favorite of our mighty emperor, napoleon the third—i repeat, an enemy of his, a pitiless scoundrel—a wretch—a demon, cast about to hit upon some plot to ruin him.

seeing that he had no other means of harming my father, this monster resolved to rob him of his daughter. he hatched his plot artfully, and conspired to lay an ambush to entrap me. he bought a steam yacht, a fast sailer, and manned and equipped it. then he anchored in a little cove, near my father’s castle. little dreaming of danger, my tutor and i went to see this strange ship, and while we were walking along the shore, the captain invited us to go on board, to examine it. we did so; but we had scarcely got on the main deck when we were seized and shut up in two little cabins! o treacherous[295] man! how easily he got possession of his victim! and i? from that time i have experienced many misfortunes.

his agile knaves sprang to their work; the crew weighed anchor immediately; the engine-driver flew to his engine; the sailors unfurled the sails; soon the yacht was under way; presently she sailed away under full sail. the grated window of my cabin, or prison, looked upon the home of my ancestors, and i saw our retainers running to and fro, with shrill cries of grief and horror. too late! the villain escapes with his captive! oh, my dear father and mother! what has become of you!

the yacht had sailed a few hours when a man entered my cabin, followed by my tutor, the good priest. i recognized bél?tre scélérat, the enemy of my father! it was he who had captured me. “compose yourself,” said he, “i will do you no harm. i am the enemy of your father, the duke, but i am not your enemy. i will treat you well, so long as you do not attempt to escape. the priest will be your tutor the same as before; and you may be as happy here as if you were with your parents.” i implored him to return me, but i implored in vain. the priest, in his turn, reasoned with him, but the monster shrugged his shoulders and was deaf to our entreaties.

after a long voyage we landed in america—at least, i believed it was that country. an accomplice of my captor assisted him to convey the priest and me into the heart of the country, where a prison had been prepared for us. i was captured may fifth, and it is now july tenth. sixty-six days, therefore, have passed since i saw my parents! i have spent the time in solitude and sadness. the good priest encourages me, but he is the only one on whom i can rely. ah! i shall go mad if no one comes to help me.

it seems that i am near a railroad, because i often hear the neigh of the iron horse. the prison in which i find myself crowns the top of a low hillock, past which winds a fine stream. as for the prison, it is fortified equal to a fortress; and the priest and i are guarded like[296] wild beasts by the remorseless turnkeys. the neighborhood is solitude itself. for greater misfortune, the place is the resort of ghosts! at home i used to laugh at the idea of ghosts, but i have seen a great number of hideous apparitions, of winged hobgoblins, in this prison.

bél?tre scélérat treats us tolerably, that is to say, he does not threaten us. we do not see him often, as he goes all over the country, to confer with his agents, or else he cruises as a pirate. his jailers, however, take care of us, and they guard us rigorously. i have never gone out of the enclosure, and whenever i go there to breathe the fresh air, the jailers mount guard to watch. bél?tre scélérat says that he will set me free as soon as my papa pays him an enormous ransom, but he adds that he intends to keep me a prisoner a long time, so that my papa shall pay the ransom promptly.

i have written this letter in secret, and i intend to secure it in a bottle. then i shall try to throw it into the stream, in hopes that some one may find it. reader, have pity on me! come and help me, or it is all over with me! i live in hope of being saved. follow the stream in which you find this letter, and you will arrive at the house which is my prison. if you cannot release me, send my letter to the duke de la chaloupe, and he will come with an army to save me. alas! perhaps my illustrious father is dead!

if the reader is in a position to save me, let him make haste, for bél?tre scélérat will not be at home this week, and the watchmen are more cowardly than brave. thus my release will come about easily! my poor father will reward whoever saves me, i am sure. perhaps his majesty the emperor might wish one more general. should you like to be that honored person? my father, the duke, is a counsellor of his:—a word to the wise is sufficient.

i write my petition in french, because i do not understand any other language well; but if the finder is not able to make it out—that is to say, if i am in america, where french is not spoken—he need not destroy it. he will find some one in his neighborhood who knows it, for my incomparable language is known throughout the world.

[297]

i am waiting for my freedom. come with brave men, and the schemes of my persecutor will be overset! hasten!

sauterelle hirondelle de la chaloupe.

if henry had been an authorized translator, he would have exerted himself and made the translation entirely different from the original; as he was only a school-boy, he gave a close, but not excellent, rendering of it; and by employing the past tense instead of the present, all sublimity was lost. in fact, like everything else translated into english, it did not equal the original.

in the whole of this letter not a single reference is made to the beings of mythology, to the state of affairs in france, to the goblins of the hartz mountains, to macaulay’s new zealander, nor to our own pilgrim fathers! this neglect is intolerable; but remembering that henry was only a boy, we must judge him with leniency, and give him credit for writing in a straightforward and business-like style.

the boys listened with rapt attention while henry read this letter. to them, it was grand, sublime, awful; and from that moment henry was looked on as a superior being, as far above ordinary mortals as an average american citizen is above any “crowned head” in europe.

their admiration was graciously acknowledged by henry. but he made several innovations, some of which took the embryo villains by surprise. in their wildest dreams they had never soared so high as to think of giving the imprisoned one a title—and henry had made her a duke’s heiress! ah! they were not so well acquainted with the ways of the world and the laws of romance as henry.

but perhaps what pleased the plotters more than anything was the liberal use made of notes of exclamation. charles counted them carefully, and reported their number to the gaping boys. the more the better, in this case, at all events, thought steve. poor innocent! he did not know that villainy and notes of exclamation go hand in hand.