Mohun | Page 5

of the Rappahannock, conversing with
the officer against whom I had driven my horse in the darkness.
Mounted upon a powerful gray, he had led the attack with a sort of fury,
and I now looked at him with some curiosity.
He was a man of about thirty, of gaunt face and figure, wearing a hat
with a black feather, and the uniform of a colonel of cavalry. The
features were regular and might have been called handsome; the eyes,
hair, mustache, and imperial--he wore no beard--coal black; the
complexion so pale that the effect was startling. More curious than all
else, however, was the officer's expression. In the lips and eyes could
be read something bitterly cynical, mingled with a profound and
apparently ineradicable melancholy. After looking at my new
acquaintance for an instant, I said to myself: "This man has either
suffered some great grief, or committed some great crime."
His bearing was cold, but courteous.
"I recognized you as soon as I saw you, colonel," he said, in response to
my salute. "You probably do not know me, however, as I have just
been transferred from the Army of the West. Colonel Mohun, at your
service."
I exchanged a pressure of the hand with Colonel Mohun, or, speaking
more correctly, I grasped his. It did not return the pressure. I then
thanked him for his timely appearance, and he bowed coldly.
"It was lucky that my scout led me in this direction," he said, "that
party is whipped back over the river, and will give us no more trouble
to-night--the woods are full of their dead and wounded."

As he spoke he took a cigar case from his pocket, and presented it.
"Will you smoke, sir?" he said.
I bowed and selected a cigar. Colonel Mohun imitated me, and was
about to commence smoking, when two or three cavalry men were seen
approaching through the gloom, apparently escorting some one.
As they drew nearer the figures became plainer in the firelight. The
cavalry men had in charge a female prisoner.
She was a woman of petite figure, clad in a handsome gray riding-habit,
and mounted upon a superb horse, with rich equipments, apparently
belonging to a Federal officer of high rank. From the horse, I glanced at
the prisoner's face. It was a strange countenance. She was about
twenty-five--her complexion was dead white, except the lips which
were as red as carnations; her eyes were large and brilliant, her hair
dark and worn plain under a small riding-hat. In one delicately
gauntleted hand she held the rein of her horse--with the other, which
was ungloved, she raised a lace handkerchief to her lips. On the finger
sparkled a diamond.
There was something strange in the expression of this woman. She
looked "dangerous" in spite of her calmness.
She sat gazing at some one behind me, with the handkerchief still
raised to her lips. Then she took it away, and I could see a smile upon
them.
What was the origin of that smile, and at whom was she looking? I
turned, and found myself face to face with Colonel Mohun. His
appearance almost frightened me. His countenance wore the hue of a
corpse, his whole frame shook with quick shudders, and his eyes were
distended until the black pupils shone in the centres of two white
circles.
Suddenly his teeth clinched audibly; he passed his hand over his
forehead streaming with cold sweat; and said in a low voice:
"Then you are not dead, madam?"
"No, sir," the prisoner replied tranquilly.
Mohun gazed at her with a long, fixed look. As he did so his features
gradually resumed the cold and cynical expression which I had first
observed in them.
"This meeting is singular," he said.
A satirical smile passed over the lips of the prisoner.

"Our last interview was very different, was it not, sir?" she said. "The
Nottoway was higher than the Rappahannock is to-night, and you did
not expect to meet me again--so soon!"
Mohun continued to gaze at her with the same fixed look.
"No, madam," he said.
"You recall that agreeable evening, do you not, sir?"
Mohun coolly inclined his head.
"And you have not seen me since?"
"Never, madam."
"You are mistaken!"
"Is it possible that I could have forgotten so pleasing a circumstance,
madam?"
"Yes!"
"Where and when have I seen you since that time?"
"Everywhere, and at all times!--awake and asleep, day and night!"
Mohun shuddered.
"True," he said, with a bitter smile.
"You remember, then! I am not wrong!" exclaimed the prisoner, gazing
intently at him.
Mohun raised his head, and I could see the old cynical expression upon
his lips.
"Certainly I remember, madam," he said. "Do you think it possible for
any one to forget your charming ladyship?