"Barbara Hambly - Benjamin January 6 - Wet Grave" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

In his big chair at the head table, General Humbert half-rose, creaking a little in his blue uniform,
and inclined his graying head.
"A man whose victories in the field put such amateurs as this American Washington to shame. A
man who truly knows the face of war; who has carried the war against England onto their own
conquered soil in blood-soaked Ireland; whose boldness in the attack at Landau is legendary;
whose courage and intrepidity were key elements in the pacification of uprisings in the vendee. A
true soldier, a true warrior, whose vocation has been the sword and whose duties he has always
acquitted with honor and dignity...."
Perhaps because he was taller than any man presentor maybe only because some of the
banqueters had shifted their chairs a little January could watch the General's face in the
candlelight as Blanque spoke. And from a drunkard's fatuous smile, he watched the man's
expression change. He's drunk himself sad, January thought. Or drunk himself philosophical,
which is worse. . . .
". . . carried the banner of the Republic against all odds, caring nothing for his own safety; caring
nothing for the politics and the quibblings of politicians. . . ."
Slowly, Humbert surveyed the room, and with a flash of insight January guessed what he saw. In
New Orleans, this was the top level of society. Perhaps not the highest born, but the wealthiest,
the men who moved events in the town. But even as young as he was, he'd seen how the
Frenchmen of France regarded their Creole French cousins, when they came to balls. He was
familiar with that polite expression that said, This is all very well for the New World, but in
PARIS.. .
He could almost see General Humbert asking himself, Who are these people? Is this what I have
come down to? In Paris, thought January, this graying old lion would have been entertained by
his brothers of the regiment, most of whom, despite the Revolution, had some trickle of noble
blood in their veins. Not by bankers who financed shady deals in Indian land and smuggled
slaves. Certainly not by a raffish gang of privateers who ran in goods for illicit sale.
"Let those who wish to, speak of armies and of supplylines!" Blanque, clearly a cognac or two
beyond the frontier of careful thought, had fallen under the spell of his own or atory. "It is
personal courage, personal command, which broke the rabble in the vendee. It was the sheer
bravery, the audacity, of the commander, which delivered victory to the Republic's banners at
Landau-"
"Enough!" With a crash the armchair at the head table was flung back. Humbert stood swaying
on his feet, face crimson, eyes blazing in the candles' liquid glow. "Enough of this praise! Your
words remind me of what I was-of what I am. And I will not remain here as an associate of
outlaws and pirates!"
Captain Beluche, also an alumnus of Napoleon's army, lurched to his feet. "Pirates, is it?"
"Pirates!" bellowed Humbert, who had never liked Beluche. "Call yourselves what you will, and
fly what flag you find it convenient to buy, what are you but thieves who take the goods of other
men and sell them as your own? You, who only yesterday sent an American ship to the bottom
without a thought, without a blink-yes, and paraded yourselves the next day in full view of the
town, like whores, like dogs!" His hand smote the table with a noise like a gunshot, making all
the tableware jump. "I spit upon such men as you!"
This was the point at which January went behind the piano. Even Captain Gambi, who generally
didn't care who called him a pirate, was on his feet with a table-knife in his hand, screaming "Pig
of a Frenchman!" and Beluche started straight over the table that separated him from Humbert,
cutlass drawn-God knew where he'd had it during dinner-and nearly foaming at the mouth with
rage and alcohol. Men yelled something about the Independence; women screamed. Hesione
LeGros, quicker thinking than most, plunged behind the piano, all her black-and-gold plumes
askew, cursing at whichever of the several captains was her protector at the moment, and pulling
from her tignon a very long and very businesslike stiletto. Her face was calm, her rosebud mouth