Catherine: A Story | Page 6

from his own
blindness and belief in the perfectibility of human nature, that the sun
of that autumn evening shone upon any two men in county or city, at
desk or harvest, at Court or at Newgate, drunk or sober, who were
greater rascals than Count Gustavus Galgenstein and Corporal Peter
Brock, he is egregiously mistaken, and his knowledge of human nature
is not worth a fig. If they had not been two prominent scoundrels, what
earthly business should we have in detailing their histories? What
would the public care for them? Who would meddle with dull virtue,
humdrum sentiment, or stupid innocence, when vice, agreeable vice, is
the only thing which the readers of romances care to hear?
The little horse-boy, who was leading the two black Flanders horses up
and down the green, might have put them in the stable for any good
that the horses got by the gentle exercise which they were now taking
in the cool evening air, as their owners had not ridden very far or very
hard, and there was not a hair turned of their sleek shining coats; but
the lad had been especially ordered so to walk the horses about until he
received further commands from the gentlemen reposing in the "Bugle"

kitchen; and the idlers of the village seemed so pleased with the beasts,
and their smart saddles and shining bridles, that it would have been a
pity to deprive them of the pleasure of contemplating such an innocent
spectacle. Over the Count's horse was thrown a fine red cloth, richly
embroidered in yellow worsted, a very large count's coronet and a
cipher at the four corners of the covering; and under this might be seen
a pair of gorgeous silver stirrups, and above it, a couple of
silver-mounted pistols reposing in bearskin holsters; the bit was silver
too, and the horse's head was decorated with many smart ribbons. Of
the Corporal's steed, suffice it to say, that the ornaments were in brass,
as bright, though not perhaps so valuable, as those which decorated the
Captain's animal. The boys, who had been at play on the green, first
paused and entered into conversation with the horse-boy; then the
village matrons followed; and afterwards, sauntering by ones and twos,
came the village maidens, who love soldiers as flies love treacle;
presently the males began to arrive, and lo! the parson of the parish,
taking his evening walk with Mrs. Dobbs, and the four children his
offspring, at length joined himself to his flock.
To this audience the little ostler explained that the animals belonged to
two gentlemen now reposing at the "Bugle:" one young with gold hair,
the other old with grizzled locks; both in red coats; both in jack-boots;
putting the house into a bustle, and calling for the best. He then
discoursed to some of his own companions regarding the merits of the
horses; and the parson, a learned man, explained to the villagers, that
one of the travellers must be a count, or at least had a count's horsecloth;
pronounced that the stirrups were of real silver, and checked the
impetuosity of his son, William Nassau Dobbs, who was for mounting
the animals, and who expressed a longing to fire off one of the pistols
in the holsters.
As this family discussion was taking place, the gentlemen whose
appearance had created so much attention came to the door of the inn,
and the elder and stouter was seen to smile at his companion; after
which he strolled leisurely over the green, and seemed to examine with
much benevolent satisfaction the assemblage of villagers who were
staring at him and the quadrupeds.

Mr. Brock, when he saw the parson's band and cassock, took off his
beaver reverently, and saluted the divine: "I hope your reverence won't
baulk the little fellow," said he; "I think I heard him calling out for a
ride, and whether he should like my horse, or his Lordship's horse, I am
sure it is all one. Don't be afraid, sir! the horses are not tired; we have
only come seventy mile to-day, and Prince Eugene once rode a matter
of fifty-two leagues (a hundred and fifty miles), sir, upon that horse,
between sunrise and sunset."
"Gracious powers! on which horse?" said Doctor Dobbs, very
solemnly.
"On THIS, sir,--on mine, Corporal Brock of Cutts's black gelding,
'William of Nassau.' The Prince, sir, gave it me after Blenheim fight,
for I had my own legs carried away by a cannon-ball, just as I cut down
two of Sauerkrauter's regiment, who had made the Prince prisoner."
"Your own legs, sir!" said the Doctor. "Gracious goodness! this is more
and more astonishing!"
"No, no, not my own legs, my horse's I mean, sir; and the Prince gave
me 'William of Nassau'