The Bright Face of Danger. Robert Neilson Stephens

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      "With all my heart."

      "That's a toast I never permit myself to defer. Mon dieu, I owe them favours enough!"

      "You are fortunate," said I.

      "I don't complain. And you?"

      "Even if I were fortunate in that respect, I shouldn't boast of it."

      He coloured; but laughed shortly, and said, "It's not boasting to tell the mere truth."

      "I was thinking of myself, not of you, Monsieur." This was true enough.

      "I can readily believe you've had no great luck that way," he said spitefully, pretending to take stock of my looks. I knew his remark was sheer malice, for my appearance was good enough—well-figured and slender, with a pleasant, thoughtful face.

      "Let us talk of something else," I answered coldly, though I was far from cool in reality.

      "Certainly. What do you think of the last conspiracy?"

      "That it was very rash and utterly without reason. We have the best king France ever knew."

      "Yes, long live Henri IV.! They say there are still some of the malcontents to be gathered in. Have you heard of any fresh arrests?"

      "Nothing within two weeks. I don't understand how these affairs can possibly arise, after that of Biron. Men must be complete fools."

      "Oh, there are always malcontents who still count on Spain, and some think even the League may be revived."

      "But why should they not be contented? I can't imagine any grievances."

      "Faith, my child, where have you been hiding yourself? Don't you know the talk? Do you suppose everybody is pleased with this Dutch alliance? And the way in which the King's old Huguenot comrades are again to be seen around him?"

      "And why not? Through everything, the King's heart has always been with the protestants."

      "Oho! So you are one of the psalm-singers, then?" His insulting tone and jeering smile were intolerable.

      "I have sung no psalms here, at least," I replied trembling with anger; "or anything else, to annoy the ears of my neighbours."

      "So you don't like my singing?" he cried, turning red again.

      I had truly rather admired it, but I said, "I have heard better."

      "Indeed? But how should you know. For your education in taste, I may tell you that good judges have thought well of my singing."

      "Ay, brag of it, as you do of your success with the ladies."

      He stared at me in amazement, then cried. "Death of my life, young fellow!—" But at that instant his servant brought in his supper, and he went no further. My own meal was before me a minute later, and we both devoted ourselves in angry silence to our food. I was still full of resentment at his obtrusive scorn of myself and my religious party, and I could see that he felt himself mightily outraged at my retorts. From the rapid, heedless way in which he ate, I fancied his mind was busy with all sorts of revenge upon me.

      When he had finished, at the same time as I did, and our servants had gone to eat their supper in the kitchen, he leaned against the wall, and said, "I am going to sing, Monsieur, whether it pleases you or not." And forthwith he began to do so.

      My answer was to put on a look of pain, and walk hastily from the room, as if the torture to my ears were too great for endurance.

      I was not half-way across the court-yard before I heard him at my heels though not singing.

      "My friend," said he, as I turned around, "I don't know where you were bred, but you should know this: it's not good manners to break from a gentleman's company so unceremoniously."

      It occurred to me that because I had taken his insults from the first, through not knowing how much a sensible man should bear, he thought he might safely hector me to the full satisfaction of his hurt vanity.

      "So you do know something of good manners, after all?" I replied. "I congratulate you."

      His eyes flashed new wrath, but before he knew how to answer, and while we were glaring at each other like two cocks, though at some distance apart, out came Nicolas from the kitchen to ask if I wished my cloak brought down, which he had taken up with the bag. In his rustic innocence he stepped between my nagging gentleman and myself. The gentleman at this ran forward in an access of rage, and threw Nicolas aside, saying, "Out of the way, knave! You're as great a clown as your master."

      "Hands off! How dare you?" I cried, clapping my hand to my sword.

      "If you come a step nearer, I'll kill you!" he replied, grasping his own hilt.

      I sent a swift glance around. There was no witness but Nicolas. Yet a scuffle would draw people in ten seconds. Even at that moment, with my heart beating madly, I thought of the edict against duelling: so I said, as calmly as I could:

      "If you dare draw that sword, I see trees beyond that gateway—a garden or something. It will be quieter there." I pointed to a narrow exit at the rear of the yard.

      "I will show you whom you're dealing with, my lad!" he said, breathlessly, and made at once for the gate. I followed. I could see now that, though a bully, he was not a coward, and the discovery fell upon me with a sense of how grave a matter I had been drawn into.

      At the gate I looked around, and saw Nicolas following, his eyes wide with alarm. "Stay where you are, and not a word to anybody," I ordered, and closed the gate after me. My adversary led the way across a neglected garden, and out through a postern in a large wall, to where there was a thicker growth of trees. We passed among these to a little open space near the river, from which it was partly veiled by a tangled mass of bushes. The unworn state of the green sward showed that this was a spot little visited by the townspeople.

      "We have stumbled on the right place," said the young gentleman, with an assumption of coolness. "It's a pity the thing can't be done properly, with seconds and all that." And he proceeded to take off his doublet.

      I was sobered by the time spent in walking to the place, so I said, "It's not too late. Monsieur, if you are willing to apologize."

      "I apologize! Death of my life! You pile insult on insult."

      "I assure you, it is you who have been the insulter."

      He laughed in a way that revived my heat, and asked, "Swords alone, or swords and daggers?"

      "As you please." By this time I had cast off my own doublet.

      "Rapiers and daggers, then," he said, and flung away his scabbard and sheath. I saw the flash of my own weapons a moment later, and ere I had time for a second thought on the seriousness of this event—my first fight in earnest—he was keeping me busy to parry his point and watch his dagger at the same time. I was half-surprised at my own success in turning away his blade, but after I had guarded myself from three or four thrusts, I took to mind that offence is the best defence, and ventured a lunge, which he stopped with his dagger only in the nick of time to save his breast. СКАЧАТЬ