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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Monsieur Beaucaire
+
+Author: Booth Tarkington
+
+Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1983]
+Last Updated: March 3, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE
+
+
+by Booth Tarkington
+
+
+
+
+Chapter One
+
+
+The young Frenchman did very well what he had planned to do. His guess
+that the Duke would cheat proved good. As the unshod half-dozen figures
+that had been standing noiselessly in the entryway stole softly into the
+shadows of the chamber, he leaned across the table and smilingly plucked
+a card out of the big Englishman's sleeve.
+
+“Merci, M. le Duc!” he laughed, rising and stepping back from the table.
+
+The Englishman cried out, “It means the dirty work of silencing you with
+my bare hands!” and came at him.
+
+“Do not move,” said M. Beaucaire, so sharply that the other paused.
+“Observe behind you.”
+
+The Englishman turned, and saw what trap he had blundered into; then
+stood transfixed, impotent, alternately scarlet with rage and white
+with the vital shame of discovery. M. Beaucaire remarked, indicating the
+silent figures by a polite wave of the hand, “Is it not a compliment
+to monsieur that I procure six large men to subdue him? They are quite
+devote' to me, and monsieur is alone. Could it be that he did not wish
+even his lackeys to know he play with the yo'ng Frenchman who Meestaire
+Nash does not like in the pomp-room? Monsieur is unfortunate to have
+come on foot and alone to my apartment.”
+
+The Duke's mouth foamed over with chaotic revilement. His captor
+smiled brightly, and made a slight gesture, as one who brushes aside
+a boisterous insect. With the same motion he quelled to stony quiet a
+resentful impetus of his servants toward the Englishman.
+
+“It's murder, is it, you carrion!” finished the Duke.
+
+M. Beaucaire lifted his shoulders in a mock shiver. “What words! No, no,
+no! No killing! A such word to a such host! No, no, not mur-r-der; only
+disgrace!” He laughed a clear, light laugh with a rising inflection,
+seeming to launch himself upon an adventurous quest for sympathy.
+
+“You little devilish scullion!” spat out the Duke.
+
+“Tut, tut! But I forget. Monsieur has pursue' his studies of deportment
+amongs' his fellow-countrymen.
+
+“Do you dream a soul in Bath will take your word that I--that I--”
+
+“That M. le Duc de Winterset had a card up his sleeve?”
+
+“You pitiful stroller, you stableboy, born in a stable--”
+
+“Is it not an honor to be born where monsieur must have been bred?”
+
+“You scurvy foot-boy, you greasy barber, you cutthroat groom--”
+
+“Overwhelm'!” The young man bowed with imperturbable elation. “M. le Duc
+appoint' me to all the office' of his househol'.”
+
+“You mustachioed fool, there are not five people of quality in Bath will
+speak to you--”
+
+“No, monsieur, not on the parade; but how many come to play with me
+here? Because I will play always, night or day, for what one will, for
+any long, and always fair, monsieur.”
+
+“You outrageous varlet! Every one knows you came to England as the
+French Ambassador's barber. What man of fashion will listen to you? Who
+will believe you?”
+
+“All people, monsieur. Do you think I have not calculate', that I shall
+make a failure of my little enterprise?”
+
+“Bah!”
+
+“Will monsieur not reseat himself?” M. Beaucaire made a low bow. “So. We
+must not be too tire' for Lady Malbourne's rout. Ha, ha! And you,
+Jean, Victor, and you others, retire; go in the hallway. Attend at the
+entrance, Francois. So; now we shall talk. Monsieur, I wish you to think
+very cool. Then listen; I will be briefly. It is that I am well known to
+be all, entire' hones'. Gamblist? Ah, yes; true and mos profitable;
+but fair, always fair; every one say that. Is it not so? Think of it.
+And--is there never a w'isper come to M. le Duc that not all people
+belief him to play always hones'? Ha, ha! Did it almos' be said to
+him las' year, after when he play' with Milor' Tappin'ford at the
+chocolate-house--”
+
+“You dirty scandal-monger!” the Duke burst out. “I'll--”
+
+“Monsieur, monsieur!” said the Frenchman. “It is a poor valor to insult
+a helpless captor. Can he retort upon his own victim? But it is for you
+to think of what I say. True, I am not reco'nize on the parade; that my
+frien's who come here do not present me to their ladies; that Meestaire
+Nash has reboff' me in the pomp-room; still, am I not known for being
+hones' and fair in my play, and will I not be belief, even I, when I
+lif' my voice and charge you aloud with what is already w'isper'? Think
+of it! You are a noble, and there will be some hang-dogs who might not
+fall away from you. Only such would be lef' to you. Do you want it tol'?
+And you can keep out of France, monsieur? I have lef' his service, but
+I have still the ear of M. de Mirepoix, and he know' I never lie. Not a
+gentleman will play you when you come to Paris.”
+
+The Englishman's white lip showed a row of scarlet dots upon it. “How
+much do you want?” he said.
+
+The room rang with the gay laughter of Beaucaire. “I hol' your note' for
+seven-hunder' pound'. You can have them, monsieur. Why does a such great
+man come to play M. Beaucaire? Because no one else willin' to play M.
+le Duc--he cannot pay. Ha, ha! So he come' to good Monsieur Beaucaire.
+Money, ha, ha! What I want with money?”
+
+His Grace of Winterset's features were set awry to a sinister pattern.
+He sat glaring at his companion in a snarling silence.
+
+“Money? Pouf!” snapped the little gambler. “No, no, no! It is that M.
+le Duc, impoverish', somewhat in a bad odor as he is, yet command the
+entree any-where--onless I--Ha, ha! Eh, monsieur?”
+
+“Ha! You dare think to force me--”
+
+M. Beaucaire twirled the tip of his slender mustache around the end
+of his white forefinger. Then he said: “Monsieur and me goin' to Lady
+Malbourne's ball to-night--M. le Duc and me!”
+
+The Englishman roared, “Curse your impudence!”
+
+“Sit quiet. Oh, yes, that's all; we goin' together.”
+
+“No!”
+
+“Certain. I make all my little plan'. 'Tis all arrange'.” He paused, and
+then said gravely, “You goin' present me to Lady Mary Carlisle.”
+
+The other laughed in utter scorn. “Lady Mary Carlisle, of all women
+alive, would be the first to prefer the devil to a man of no birth,
+barber.”
+
+“'Tis all arrange'; have no fear; nobody question monsieur's You goin'
+take me to-night--”
+
+“No!”
+
+“Yes. And after--then I have the entree. Is it much I ask? This one
+little favor, and I never w'isper, never breathe that--it is to say, I
+am always forever silent of monsieur's misfortune.”
+
+“You have the entree!” sneered the other. “Go to a lackeys' rout and
+dance with the kitchen maids. If I would, I could not present you to
+Bath society. I should have cartels from the fathers, brothers, and
+lovers of every wench and madam in the place, even I. You would be
+thrust from Lady Malbourne's door five minutes after you entered it.”
+
+“No, no, no!”
+
+“Half the gentlemen in Bath have been here to play. They would know
+you, wouldn't they, fool? You've had thousands out of Bantison, Rakell,
+Guilford, and Townbrake. They would have you lashed by the grooms as
+your ugly deserts are. You to speak to Lady Mary Carlisle! 'Od's blood!
+You! Also, dolt, she would know you if you escaped the others. She stood
+within a yard of you when Nash expelled you the pump-room.”
+
+M. Beaucaire flushed slightly. “You think I did not see?” he asked.
+
+“Do you dream that' because Winterset introduces a low fellow he will be
+tolerated--that Bath will receive a barber?”
+
+“I have the distinction to call monsieur's attention,” replied the young
+man gayly, “I have renounce that profession.”
+
+“Fool!”
+
+“I am now a man of honor!”
+
+“Faugh!”
+
+“A man of the parts,” continued the the young Frenchman, “and of
+deportment; is it not so? Have you seen me of a fluster, or gross ever,
+or, what sall I say--bourgeois? Shall you be shame' for your guest'
+manner? No, no! And my appearance, is it of the people? Clearly, no. Do
+I not compare in taste of apparel with your yo'ng Englishman? Ha, ha! To
+be hope'. Ha, ha! So I am goin' talk with Lady Mary Carlisle.”
+
+“Bah!” The Duke made a savage burlesque. “'Lady Mary Carlisle, may I
+assume the honor of presenting the barber of the Marquis de Mirepoix?'
+So, is it?”
+
+“No, monsieur,” smiled the young man. “Quite not so. You shall have
+nothing to worry you, nothing in the worl'. I am goin' to assassinate my
+poor mustachio--also remove this horrible black peruke, and emerge in my
+own hair. Behol'!” He swept the heavy curled, mass from his head as he
+spoke, and his hair, coiled under the great wig, fell to his shoulders,
+and sparkled yellow in the candle-light. He tossed his head to shake the
+hair back from his cheeks. “When it is dress', I am transform nobody can
+know me; you shall observe. See how little I ask of you, how very little
+bit. No one shall reco'nize 'M. Beaucaire' or 'Victor.' Ha, ha! 'Tis all
+arrange'; you have nothing to fear.”
+
+“Curse you,” said the Duke, “do you think I'm going to be saddled with
+you wherever I go as long as you choose?”
+
+“A mistake. No. All I requi--All I beg--is this one evening. 'Tis all
+shall be necessary. After, I shall not need monsieur.
+
+“Take heed to yourself--after!” vouchsafed the Englishman between his
+teeth.
+
+“Conquered!” cried M. Beaucaire, and clapped his hands gleefully.
+“Conquered for the night! Aha, it ts riz'nable! I shall meet what
+you send--after. One cannot hope too much of your patience. It is but
+natural you should attemp' a little avengement for the rascal trap I
+was such a wicked fellow as to set for you. I shall meet some strange
+frien's of yours after to-night; not so? I must try to be not too much
+frighten'.” He looked at the Duke curiously. “You want to know why I
+create this tragedy, why I am so unkind as to entrap monsieur?”
+
+His Grace of Winterset replied with a chill glance; a pulse in the
+nobleman's cheek beat less relentlessly; his eye raged not so bitterly;
+the steady purple of his own color was returning; his voice was less
+hoarse; he was regaining his habit. “'Tis ever the manner of the
+vulgar,” he observed, “to wish to be seen with people of fashion.”
+
+“Oh, no, no, no!” The Frenchman laughed. “'Tis not that. Am I not
+already one of these 'men of fashion'? I lack only the reputation of
+birth. Monsieur is goin' supply that. Ha, ha! I shall be noble from
+to-night. 'Victor,' the artis', is condemn' to death; his throat shall
+be cut with his own razor. 'M. Beaucaire--'” Here the young man sprang
+to his feet, caught up the black wig, clapped into it a dice-box
+from the table, and hurled it violently through the open door. “'M.
+Beaucaire' shall be choke' with his own dice-box. Who is the Phoenix to
+remain? What advantage have I not over other men of rank who are merely
+born to it? I may choose my own. No! Choose for me, monsieur. Shall I
+be chevalier, comte, vicomte, marquis, what? None. Out of compliment to
+monsieur can I wish to be anything he is not? No, no! I shall be M.
+le Duc, M. le Duc de--de Chateaurien. Ha, ha! You see? You are my
+confrere.”
+
+M. Beaucaire trod a dainty step or two, waving his hand politely to the
+Duke, as though in invitation to join the celebration of his rank.
+The Englishman watched, his eye still and harsh, already gathering in
+craftiness. Beaucaire stopped suddenly. “But how I forget my age! I am
+twenty-three,” he said, with a sigh. “I rejoice too much to be of the
+quality. It has been too great for me, and I had always belief' myself
+free of such ambition. I thought it was enough to behol' the opera
+without wishing to sing; but no, England have teach' me I have those
+vulgar desire'. Monsieur, I am goin' tell you a secret: the ladies of
+your country are very diff'runt than ours. One may adore the demoiselle,
+one must worship the lady of England. Our ladies have the--it is the
+beauty of youth; yours remain comely at thirty. Ours are flowers, yours
+are stars! See, I betray myself, I am so poor a patriot. And there is
+one among these stars--ah, yes, there is one--the poor Frenchman has
+observe' from his humble distance; even there he could bask in the
+glowing!” M. Beaucaire turned to the window, and looked out into the
+dark. He did not see the lights of the town. When he turned again, he
+had half forgotten his prisoner; other pictures were before him.
+
+“Ah, what radiance!” he cried. “Those people up over the sky, they want
+to show they wish the earth to be happy, so they smile, and make this
+lady. Gold-haired, an angel of heaven, and yet a Diana of the chase! I
+see her fly by me on her great horse one day; she touch' his mane with
+her fingers. I buy that clipping from the groom. I have it here with my
+dear brother's picture. Ah, you! Oh, yes, you laugh! What do you know!
+'Twas all I could get. But I have heard of the endeavor of M. le Duc to
+recoup his fortunes. This alliance shall fail. It is not the way--that
+heritage shall be safe' from him! It is you and me, monsieur! You can
+laugh! The war is open', and by me! There is one great step taken: until
+to-night there was nothing for you to ruin, to-morrow you have got a
+noble of France--your own protege--to besiege and sack. And you are
+to lose, because you think such ruin easy, and because you understand
+nothing--far less--of divinity. How could you know? You have not the
+fiber; the heart of a lady is a blank to you; you know nothing of the
+vibration. There are some words that were made only to tell of Lady
+Mary, for her alone--bellissima, divine, glorieuse! Ah, how I have
+watch' her! It is sad to me when I see her surround' by your yo'ng
+captains, your nobles, your rattles, your beaux--ha, ha!--and I mus'
+hol' far aloof. It is sad for me--but oh, jus' to watch her and to
+wonder! Strange it is, but I have almos' cry out with rapture at a look
+I have see' her give another man, so beautiful it was, so tender, so
+dazzling of the eyes and so mirthful of the lips. Ah, divine coquetry! A
+look for another, ah-i-me! for many others; and even to you, one day,
+a rose, while I--I, monsieur, could not even be so blessed as to be
+the groun' beneath her little shoe! But to-night, monsieur--ha,
+ha!--to-night, monsieur, you and me, two princes, M. le Duc de
+Winterset and M. le Duc de Chateaurien--ha, ha! you see?--we are goin'
+arm-in-arm to that ball, and I am goin' have one of those looks, I! And
+a rose! I! It is time. But ten minute', monsieur. I make my apology to
+keep you waitin' so long while I go in the nex' room and execute my poor
+mustachio--that will be my only murder for jus' this one evening--and
+inves' myself in white satin. Ha, ha! I shall be very gran', monsieur.
+Francois, send Louis to me; Victor, to order two chairs for monsieur and
+me; we are goin' out in the worl' to-right!”
+
+
+Chapter Two
+
+
+The chairmen swarmed in the street at Lady Malbourne's door, where the
+joyous vulgar fought with muddied footmen and tipsy link-boys for places
+of vantage whence to catch a glimpse of quality and of raiment at its
+utmost. Dawn was in the east, and the guests were departing. Singly or
+in pairs, glittering in finery, they came mincing down the steps, the
+ghost of the night's smirk fading to jadedness as they sought the dark
+recesses of their chairs. From within sounded the twang of fiddles still
+swinging manfully at it, and the windows were bright with the light of
+many candles. When the door was flung open to call the chair of Lady
+Mary Carlisle, there was an eager pressure of the throng to see.
+
+A small, fair gentleman in white satin came out upon the steps, turned
+and bowed before a lady who appeared in the doorway, a lady whose royal
+loveliness was given to view for a moment in that glowing frame. The
+crowd sent up a hearty English cheer for the Beauty of Bath.
+
+The gentleman smiled upon them delightedly. “What enchanting people!” he
+cried. “Why did I not know, so I might have shout' with them?” The
+lady noticed the people not at all; whereat, being pleased, the people
+cheered again. The gentleman offered her his hand; she made a slow
+courtesy; placed the tips of her fingers upon his own. “I am honored, M.
+de Chateaurien,” she said.
+
+“No, no!” he cried earnestly. “Behol' a poor Frenchman whom emperors
+should envy.” Then reverently and with the pride of his gallant office
+vibrant in every line of his slight figure, invested in white satin and
+very grand, as he had prophesied, M. le Duc de Chateaurien handed Lady
+Mary Carlisle down the steps, an achievement which had figured in the
+ambitions of seven other gentlemen during the evening.
+
+“Am I to be lef'in such onhappiness?” he said in a low voice. “That rose
+I have beg' for so long--”
+
+
+“Never!” said Lady Mary.
+
+“Ah, I do not deserve it, I know so well! But--”
+
+“Never!”
+
+“It is the greatness of my onworthiness that alone can claim your
+charity; let your kin' heart give this little red rose, this great alms,
+to the poor beggar.”
+
+“Never!”
+
+She was seated in the chair. “Ah, give the rose,” he whispered. Her
+beauty shone dazzlingly on him out of the dimness.
+
+“Never!” she flashed defiantly as she was closed in. “Never!”
+
+“Never!”
+
+The rose fell at his feet.
+
+
+“A rose lasts till morning,” said a voice behind him.
+
+Turning, M. de Chateaurien looked beamingly upon the face of the Duke of
+Winterset.
+
+“'Tis already the daylight,” he replied, pointing to the east.
+“Monsieur, was it not enough honor for you to han' out madame, the aunt
+of Lady Mary? Lady Rellerton retain much trace of beauty. 'Tis strange
+you did not appear more happy.”
+
+“The rose is of an unlucky color, I think,” observed the Duke.
+
+“The color of a blush, my brother.”
+
+“Unlucky, I still maintain,” said the other calmly.
+
+“The color of the veins of a Frenchman. Ha, ha!” cried the young man.
+“What price would be too high? A rose is a rose! A good-night, my
+brother, a good-night. I wish you dreams of roses, red roses, only
+beautiful red, red roses!”
+
+“Stay! Did you see the look she gave these street folk when they shouted
+for her? And how are you higher than they, when she knows? As high as
+yonder horse-boy!”
+
+“Red roses, my brother, only roses. I wish you dreams of red, red
+roses!”
+
+
+Chapter Three
+
+
+It was well agreed by the fashion of Bath that M. le Duc de Chateaurien
+was a person of sensibility and haut ton; that his retinue and equipage
+surpassed in elegance; that his person was exquisite, his manner
+engaging. In the company of gentlemen his ease was slightly tinged with
+graciousness (his single equal in Bath being his Grace of Winterset);
+but it was remarked that when he bowed over a lady's hand, his air
+bespoke only a gay and tender reverence.
+
+He was the idol of the dowagers within a week after his appearance;
+matrons warmed to him; young belles looked sweetly on him, while the
+gentlemen were won to admiration or envy. He was of prodigious wealth:
+old Mr. Bicksit, who dared not, for his fame's sake, fail to have seen
+all things, had visited Chateaurien under the present Duke's father,
+and descanted to the curious upon its grandeurs. The young noble had one
+fault, he was so poor a gambler. He cared nothing for the hazards of a
+die or the turn of a card. Gayly admitting that he had been born with no
+spirit of adventure in him, he was sure, he declared, that he failed of
+much happiness by his lack of taste in such matters.
+
+But he was not long wanting the occasion to prove his taste in the
+matter of handling a weapon. A certain led-captain, Rohrer by
+name, notorious, amongst other things, for bearing a dexterous and
+bloodthirsty blade, came to Bath post-haste, one night, and jostled
+heartily against him, in the pump-room on the following morning. M.
+de Chauteaurien bowed, and turned aside without offense, continuing a
+conversation with some gentlemen near by. Captain Rohrer jostled
+against him a second time. M. de Chateaurien looked him in the eye, and
+apologized pleasantly for being so much in the way. Thereupon Rohrer
+procured an introduction to him, and made some observations derogatory
+to the valor and virtue of the French. There was current a curious piece
+of gossip of the French court: a prince of the blood royal, grandson of
+the late Regent and second in the line of succession to the throne
+of France, had rebelled against the authority of Louis XV, who had
+commanded him to marry the Princess Henriette, cousin to both of them.
+The princess was reported to be openly devoted to the cousin who refused
+to accept her hand at the bidding of the king; and, as rumor ran, the
+prince's caprice elected in preference the discipline of Vincennes, to
+which retirement the furious king had consigned him. The story was the
+staple gossip of all polite Europe; and Captain Rohrer, having in his
+mind a purpose to make use of it in leading up to a statement that
+should be general to the damage of all Frenchwomen, and which a
+Frenchman might not pass over as he might a jog of the elbow, repeated
+it with garbled truths to make a scandal of a story which bore none on a
+plain relation.
+
+He did not reach his deduction. M. de Chateaurien, breaking into his
+narrative, addressed him very quietly. “Monsieur,” he said, “none but
+swine deny the nobleness of that good and gentle lady, Mademoiselle la
+Princesse de Bourbon-Conti. Every Frenchman know' that her cousin is a
+bad rebel and ingrate, who had only honor and rispec' for her, but was
+so wilful he could not let even the king say, 'You shall marry here,
+you shall marry there.' My frien's,” the young man turned to the others,
+“may I ask you to close roun' in a circle for one moment? It is clearly
+shown that the Duke of Orleans is a scurvy fellow, but not--” he wheeled
+about and touched Captain Rohrer on the brow with the back of his gloved
+hand--“but not so scurvy as thou, thou swine of the gutter!”
+
+Two hours later, with perfect ease, he ran Captain Rohrer through the
+left shoulder--after which he sent a basket of red roses to the Duke
+of Winterset. In a few days he had another captain to fight. This was
+a ruffling buck who had the astounding indiscretion to proclaim M.
+de Chateaurien an impostor. There was no Chateaurien, he swore. The
+Frenchman laughed in his face, and, at twilight of the same day, pinked
+him carefully through the right shoulder. It was not that he could
+not put aside the insult to himself, he declared to Mr. Molyneux,
+his second, and the few witnesses, as he handed his wet sword to his
+lackey--one of his station could not be insulted by a doubt of that
+station--but he fought in the quarrel of his friend Winterset. This
+rascal had asserted that M. le Duc had introduced an impostor. Could he
+overlook the insult to a friend, one to whom he owed his kind reception
+in Bath? Then, bending over his fallen adversary, he whispered: “Naughty
+man, tell your master find some better quarrel for the nex' he sen'
+agains' me.”
+
+The conduct of M. de Chateaurien was pronounced admirable.
+
+There was no surprise when the young foreigner fell naturally into the
+long train of followers of the beautiful Lady Mary Carlisle, nor was
+there great astonishment that he should obtain marked favor in her eyes,
+shown so plainly that my Lord Townbrake, Sir Hugh Guilford, and the rich
+Squire Bantison, all of whom had followed her through three seasons,
+swore with rage, and his Grace of Winterset stalked from her aunt's
+house with black brows.
+
+Meeting the Duke there on the evening after his second encounter de
+Chateaurien smiled upon him brilliantly. “It was badly done; oh, so
+badly!” he whispered. “Can you afford to have me strip' of my mask by
+any but yourself? You, who introduce' me? They will say there is some
+bad scandal that I could force you to be my god-father. You mus' get the
+courage yourself.”
+
+“I told you a rose had a short life,” was the answer.
+
+“Oh, those roses! 'Tis the very greates' rizzon to gather each day
+a fresh one.” He took a red bud from his breast for an instant, and
+touched it to his lips.
+
+“M. de Chateaurien!” It was Lady Mary's voice; she stood at a table
+where a vacant place had been left beside her. “M. de Chateaurien, we
+have been waiting very long for you.”
+
+The Duke saw the look she did not know she gave the Frenchman, and he
+lost countenance for a moment.
+
+“We approach a climax, eh, monsieur?” said M. de Chateaurien.
+
+
+
+Chapter Four
+
+
+There fell a clear September night, when the moon was radiant over town
+and country, over cobbled streets and winding roads. From the fields the
+mists rose slowly, and the air was mild and fragrant, while distances
+were white and full of mystery. All of Bath that pretended to fashion or
+condition was present that evening at a fete at the house of a country
+gentleman of the neighborhood. When the stately junket was concluded, it
+was the pleasure of M. de Chateaurien to form one of the escort of Lady
+Mary's carriage for the return. As they took the road, Sir Hugh Guilford
+and Mr. Bantison, engaging in indistinct but vigorous remonstrance with
+Mr. Molyneux over some matter, fell fifty or more paces behind, where
+they continued to ride, keeping up their argument. Half a dozen other
+gallants rode in advance, muttering among themselves, or attended laxly
+upon Lady Mary's aunt on the other side of the coach, while the happy
+Frenchman was permitted to ride close to that adorable window which
+framed the fairest face in England.
+
+He sang for her a little French song, a song of the voyageur who dreamed
+of home. The lady, listening, looking up at the bright moon, felt a warm
+drop upon her cheek, and he saw the tears sparkling upon her lashes.
+
+“Mademoiselle,” he whispered then, “I, too, have been a wanderer, but my
+dreams were not of France; no, I do not dream of that home, of that dear
+country. It is of a dearer country, a dream country--a country of gold
+and snow,” he cried softly, looking it her white brow and the fair,
+lightly powdered hair above it. “Gold and snow, and the blue sky of a
+lady's eyes!”
+
+“I had thought the ladies of France were dark, sir.
+
+“Cruel! It is that she will not understan'! Have I speak of the ladies
+of France? No, no, no! It is of the faires' country; yes, 'tis a
+province of heaven, mademoiselle. Do I not renounce my allegiance to
+France? Oh, yes! I am subjec'--no, content to be slave--in the lan' of
+the blue sky, the gold, and the snow.
+
+“A very pretty figure,” answered Lady Mary, her eyes downcast. “But does
+it not hint a notable experience in the making of such speeches?”
+
+“Tormentress! No. It prove only the inspiration it is to know you.”
+
+“We English ladies hear plenty of the like sir; and we even grow
+brilliant enough to detect the assurance that lies beneath the
+courtesies of our own gallants.”
+
+“Merci! I should believe so!” ejaculated M. de Chateaurien: but he
+smothered the words upon his lips.
+
+Her eyes were not lifted. She went on: “We come, in time, to believe
+that true feeling comes faltering forth, not glibly; that smoothness
+betokens the adept in the art, sir, rather than your true--your true--”
+ She was herself faltering; more, blushing deeply, and halting to a full
+stop in terror of a word. There was a silence.
+
+“Your--true--lover,” he said huskily. When he had said that word both
+trembled. She turned half away into the darkness of the coach.
+
+“I know what make' you to doubt me,” he said, faltering himself, though
+it was not his art that prompted him. “They have tol' you the French
+do nothing always but make love, is it not so? Yes, you think I am like
+that. You think I am like that now!”
+
+She made no sign.
+
+“I suppose,” he sighed, “I am unriz'nable; I would have the snow not so
+col'--for jus' me.”
+
+She did not answer.
+
+“Turn to me,” he said.
+
+The fragrance of the fields came to them, and from the distance the
+faint, clear note of a hunting-horn.
+
+“Turn to me.”
+
+The lovely head was bent very low. Her little gloved hand lay upon the
+narrow window ledge. He laid his own gently upon it. The two hands were
+shaking like twin leaves in the breeze. Hers was not drawn away. After
+a pause, neither knew how long, he felt the warm fingers turn and clasp
+themselves tremulously about his own. At last she looked up bravely and
+met his eyes. The horn was wound again--nearer.
+
+“All the cold was gone from the snows--long ago,” she said.
+
+“My beautiful!” he whispered; it was all he could say. “My beautiful!”
+ But she clutched his arm, startled.
+
+“'Ware the road!” A wild halloo sounded ahead. The horn wound loudly.
+“'Ware the road!” There sprang up out of the night a flying thunder of
+hoof-beats. The gentlemen riding idly in front of the coach scattered to
+the hedge-sides; and, with drawn swords flashing in the moon, a party of
+horsemen charged down the highway, their cries blasting the night.
+
+“Barber! Kill the barber!” they screamed. “Barber! Kill the barber!”
+
+Beaucaire had but time to draw his sword when they were upon him.
+
+“A moi!” his voice rang out clearly as he rose in his stirrups. “A moi,
+Francois, Louis, Berquin! A moi, Francois!”
+
+The cavaliers came straight at him. He parried the thrust of the first,
+but the shock of collision hurled his horse against the side of the
+coach. “Sacred swine!” he cried bitterly. “To endanger a lady, to make
+this brawl in a lady's presence! Drive on!” he shouted.
+
+“No!” cried Lady Mary.
+
+The Frenchman's assailants were masked, but they were not highwaymen.
+“Barber! Barber!” they shouted hoarsely, and closed in on him in a
+circle.
+
+“See how he use his steel!” laughed M. Beaucaire, as his point passed
+through a tawdry waistcoat. For a moment he cut through the ring and
+cleared a space about him, and Lady Mary saw his face shining in the
+moonlight. “Canaille!” he hissed, as his horse sank beneath him; and,
+though guarding his head from the rain of blows from above, he managed
+to drag headlong from his saddle the man who had hamstrung the poor
+brute. The fellow came suddenly to the ground, and lay there.
+
+“Is it not a compliment,” said a heavy voice, “to bring six large men to
+subdue monsieur?”
+
+“Oh, you are there, my frien'! In the rear--a little in the rear, I
+think. Ha, ha!”
+
+The Frenchman's play with his weapon was a revelation of skill, the more
+extraordinary as he held in his hand only a light dress sword. But the
+ring closed about him, and his keen defense could not avail him for more
+than a few moments. Lady Mary's outriders, the gallants of her escort,
+rode up close to the coach and encircled it, not interfering.
+
+“Sir Hugh Guilford!” cried Lady Mary wildly, “if you will not help him,
+give me your sword!” She would have leaped to the ground, but Sir Hugh
+held the door.
+
+“Sit quiet, madam,” he said to her; then, to the man on the box, “Drive
+on.”
+
+“If he does, I'll kill him!” she said fiercely. “Ah, what cowards! Will
+you see the Duke murdered?”
+
+“The Duke!” laughed Guilford. “They will not kill him, unless--be easy,
+dear madam, 'twill be explained. Gad's life!” he muttered to Molyneux,
+“'Twere time the varlet had his lashing! D'ye hear her?”
+
+“Barber or no barber,” answered Molyneux, “I wish I had warned him. He
+fights as few gentlemen could. Ah--ah! Look at that! 'Tis a shame!”
+
+On foot, his hat gone, his white coat sadly rent and gashed, flecked,
+too, with red, M. Beaucaire, wary, alert, brilliant, seemed to transform
+himself into a dozen fencing-masters; and, though his skill appeared
+to lie in delicacy and quickness, his play being continually with
+the point, sheer strength failed to beat him down. The young man was
+laughing like a child.
+
+“Believe me,” said Molyneux “he's no barber! No, and never was!”
+
+For a moment there was even a chance that M. Beaucaire might have the
+best of it. Two of his adversaries were prostrate, more than one were
+groaning, and the indomitable Frenchman had actually almost beat off the
+ruffians, when, by a trick, he was overcome. One of them, dismounting,
+ran in suddenly from behind, and seized his blade in a thick leather
+gauntlet. Before Beaucaire could disengage the weapon, two others threw
+themselves from their horses and hurled him to the earth. “A moi! A moi,
+Francois!” he cried as he went down, his sword in fragments, but his
+voice unbroken and clear.
+
+“Shame!” muttered one or two of the gentlemen about the coach.
+
+“'Twas dastardly to take him so,” said Molyneux. “Whatever his
+deservings, I'm nigh of a mind to offer him a rescue in the Duke's
+face.”
+
+“Truss him up, lads,” said the heavy voice. “Clear the way in front of
+the coach. There sit those whom we avenge upon a presumptuous lackey.
+Now, Whiffen, you have a fair audience, lay on and baste him.”
+
+Two men began to drag M. Beaucaire toward a great oak by the roadside.
+Another took from his saddle a heavy whip with three thongs.
+
+“A moi, Francois!”
+
+There was borne on the breeze an answer--“Monseigneur! Monseigneur!”
+ The cry grew louder suddenly. The clatter of hoofs urged to an anguish
+of speed sounded on the night. M. Beaucaire's servants had lagged sorely
+behind, but they made up for it now. Almost before the noise of their
+own steeds they came riding down the moonlit aisle between the mists.
+Chosen men, these servants of Beaucaire, and like a thunderbolt they
+fell upon the astounded cavaliers.
+
+“Chateaurien! Chateaurien!” they shouted, and smote so swiftly that,
+through lack of time, they showed no proper judgment, discriminating
+nothing between non-combatants and their master's foes. They charged
+first into the group about M. Beaucaire, and broke and routed it
+utterly. Two of them leaped to the young man's side, while the other
+four, swerving, scarce losing the momentum of their onset, bore on upon
+the gentlemen near the coach, who went down beneath the fierceness of
+the onslaught, cursing manfully.
+
+“Our just deserts,” said Mr. Molyneux, his mouth full of dust and
+philosophy.
+
+Sir Hugh Guilford's horse fell with him, being literally ridden over,
+and the baronet's leg was pinned under the saddle. In less than ten
+minutes from the first attack on M. Beaucaire, the attacking party
+had fled in disorder, and the patrician non-combatants, choking with
+expletives, consumed with wrath, were prisoners, disarmed by the
+Frenchman's lackeys.
+
+Guilford's discomfiture had freed the doors of the coach; so it was that
+when M. Beaucaire, struggling to rise, assisted by his servants, threw
+out one hand to balance himself, he found it seized between two small,
+cold palms, and he looked into two warm, dilating eyes, that were doubly
+beautiful because of the fright and rage that found room in them, too.
+
+M. le Duc Chateaurien sprang to his feet without the aid of his lackeys,
+and bowed low before Lady Mary.
+
+“I make ten thousan' apology to be' the cause of a such melee in your
+presence,” he said; and then, turning to Francois, he spoke in French:
+“Ah, thou scoundrel! A little, and it had been too late.”
+
+Francois knelt in the dust before him. “Pardon!” he said. “Monseigneur
+commanded us to follow far in the rear, to remain unobserved. The wind
+malignantly blew against monseigneur's voice.”
+
+“See what it might have cost, my children,” said his master, pointing
+to the ropes with which they would have bound him and to the whip lying
+beside them. A shudder passed over the lackey's frame; the utter horror
+in his face echoed in the eyes of his fellows.
+
+“Oh, monseigneur!” Francois sprang back, and tossed his arms to heaven.
+
+“But it did not happen,” said M. Beaucaire.
+
+“It could not!” exclaimed Francois.
+
+“No. And you did very well, my children--” the young man smiled
+benevolently--“very well. And now,” he continued, turning to Lady Mary
+and speaking in English, “let me be asking of our gallants yonder what
+make' them to be in cabal with highwaymen. One should come to a polite
+understanding with them, you think? Not so?”
+
+He bowed, offering his hand to conduct her to the coach, where Molyneux
+and his companions, having drawn Sir Hugh from under his horse, were
+engaged in reviving and reassuring Lady Rellerton, who had fainted. But
+Lady Mary stayed Beaucaire with a gesture, and the two stood where they
+were.
+
+“Monseigneur!” she said, with a note of raillery in her voice, but
+raillery so tender that he started with happiness. His movement brought
+him a hot spasm of pain, and he clapped his hand to a red stain on his
+waistcoat.
+
+“You are hurt!”
+
+“It is nothing,” smiled M. Beaucaire. Then, that she might not see
+the stain spreading, he held his handkerchief over the spot. “I am a
+little--but jus' a trifling--bruise'; 'tis all.”
+
+“You shall ride in the coach,” she whispered. “Will you be pleased, M.
+de Chateaurien?”
+
+“Ah, my beautiful!” She seemed to wave before him like a shining
+mist. “I wish that ride might las' for always! Can you say that,
+mademoiselle?”
+
+“Monseigneur,” she cried in a passion of admiration, “I would what you
+would have be, should be. What do you not deserve? You are the bravest
+man in the world!”
+
+“Ha, ha! I am jus' a poor Frenchman.”
+
+“Would that a few Englishmen had shown themselves as 'poor' tonight.
+The vile cowards, not to help you!” With that, suddenly possessed by her
+anger, she swept away from him to the coach.
+
+Sir Hugh, groaning loudly, was being assisted into the vehicle.
+
+“My little poltroons,” she said, “what are you doing with your
+fellow-craven, Sir Hugh Guilford, there?”
+
+“Madam,” replied Molyneux humbly, “Sir Hugh's leg is broken. Lady
+Rellerton graciously permits him to be taken in.”
+
+“I do not permit it! M. de Chateaurien rides with us.”
+
+“But--”
+
+“Sir! Leave the wretch to groan by the roadside,” she cried fiercely,
+“which plight I would were that of all of you! But there will be a
+pretty story for the gossips to-morrow! And I could almost find pity
+for you when I think of the wits when you return to town. Fine gentlemen
+you; hardy bravos, by heaven! to leave one man to meet a troop of horse
+single-handed, while you huddle in shelter until you are overthrown and
+disarmed by servants! Oh, the wits! Heaven save you from the wits!”
+
+“Madam.”
+
+“Address me no more! M. de Chateaurien, Lady Rellerton and I will
+greatly esteem the honor of your company. Will you come?”
+
+She stepped quickly into the coach, and was gathering her skirts to make
+room for the Frenchman, when a heavy voice spoke from the shadows of the
+tree by the wayside.
+
+“Lady Mary Carlisle will, no doubt, listen to a word of counsel on this
+point.”
+
+The Duke of Winterset rode out into the moonlight, composedly untieing a
+mask from about his head. He had not shared the flight of his followers,
+but had retired into the shade of the oak, whence he now made his
+presence known with the utmost coolness.
+
+“Gracious heavens, 'tis Winterset!” exclaimed Lady Rellerton.
+
+“Turned highwayman and cut-throat,” cried Lady Mary.
+
+“No, no,” laughed M. Beaucaire, somewhat unsteadily, as he stood,
+swaying a little, with one hand on the coach-door, the other pressed
+hard on his side, “he only oversee'; he is jus' a little bashful,
+sometime'. He is a great man, but he don' want all the glory!”
+
+“Barber,” replied the Duke, “I must tell you that I gladly descend to
+bandy words with you; your monstrous impudence is a claim to rank
+I cannot ignore. But a lackey who has himself followed by six other
+lackeys--”
+
+“Ha, ha! Has not M. le Duc been busy all this evening to justify me? And
+I think mine mus' be the bes' six. Ha, ha! You think?”
+
+“M. de Chateaurien,” said Lady Mary, “we are waiting for you.”
+
+“Pardon,” he replied. “He has something to say; maybe it is bes' if you
+hear it now.”
+
+“I wish to hear nothing from him--ever!”
+
+“My faith, madam,” cried the Duke, “this saucy fellow has paid you the
+last insult! He is so sure of you he does not fear you will believe the
+truth. When all is told, if you do not agree he deserved the lashing we
+planned to--”
+
+“I'll hear no more!”
+
+“You will bitterly repent it, madam. For your own sake I entreat--”
+
+“And I also,” broke in M. Beaucaire. “Permit me, mademoiselle; let him
+speak.”
+
+“Then let him be brief,” said Lady Mary, “for I am earnest to be quit of
+him. His explanation or an attack on my friend and on my carriage should
+be made to my brother.”
+
+“Alas that he was not here,” said the Duke, “to aid me! Madam, was your
+carriage threatened? I have endeavored only to expunge a debt I owed to
+Bath and to avenge an insult offered to yourself through--”
+
+“Sir, sir, my patience will bear little more!”
+
+“A thousan' apology,” said M. Beaucaire. “You will listen, I only beg,
+Lady Mary?”
+
+She made an angry gesture of assent.
+
+“Madam, I will be brief as I may. Two months ago there came to Bath a
+French gambler calling himself Beaucaire, a desperate fellow with the
+cards or dice, and all the men of fashion went to play at his lodging,
+where he won considerable sums. He was small, wore a black wig and
+mustachio. He had the insolence to show himself everywhere until the
+Master of Ceremonies rebuffed him in the pump-room, as you know, and
+after that he forbore his visits to the rooms. Mr. Nash explained (and
+was confirmed, madam, by indubitable information) that this Beaucaire
+was a man of unspeakable, vile, low birth, being, in fact, no other than
+a lackey of the French king's ambassador, Victor by name, de Mirepoix's
+barber. Although his condition was known, the hideous impudence of the
+fellow did not desert him, and he remained in Bath, where none would
+speak to him.”
+
+“Is your farrago nigh done, sir?”
+
+“A few moments, madam. One evening, three weeks gone, I observed a very
+elegant equipage draw up to my door, and the Duke of Chateaurien was
+announced. The young man's manners were worthy--according to the French
+acceptance--and 'twere idle to deny him the most monstrous assurance. He
+declared himself a noble traveling for pleasure. He had taken lodgings
+in Bath for a season, he said, and called at once to pay his respects
+to me. His tone was so candid--in truth, I am the simplest of men, very
+easily gulled--and his stroke so bold, that I did not for one moment
+suspect him; and, to my poignant regret--though in the humblest spirit
+I have shown myself eager to atone--that very evening I had the shame of
+presenting him to yourself.”
+
+“The shame, sir!”
+
+“Have patience, pray, madam. Ay, the shame! You know what figure he hath
+cut in Bath since that evening. All ran merrily with him until several
+days ago Captain Badger denounced him as an impostor, vowing that
+Chateaurien was nothing.”
+
+“Pardon,” interrupted M. Beaucaire. “'Castle Nowhere' would have been so
+much better. Why did you not make him say it that way, monsieur?”
+
+Lady Mary started; she was looking at the Duke, and her face was white.
+He continued: “Poor Captain Badger was stabbed that same day.--”
+
+“Most befitting poor Captain Badger,” muttered Molyneux.
+
+“----And his adversary had the marvelous insolence to declare that he
+fought in my quarrel! This afternoon the wounded man sent for me, and
+imparted a very horrifying intelligence. He had discovered a lackey whom
+he had seen waiting upon Beaucaire in attendance at the door of
+this Chateaurien's lodging. Beaucaire had disappeared the day before
+Chateaurien's arrival. Captain Badger looked closely at Chateaurien at
+their next meeting, and identified him with the missing Beaucaire beyond
+the faintest doubt. Overcome with indignation, he immediately proclaimed
+the impostor. Out of regard for me, he did not charge him with being
+Beaucaire; the poor soul was unwilling to put upon me the humiliation of
+having introduced a barber; but the secret weighed upon him till he sent
+for me and put everything in my hands. I accepted the odium; thinking
+only of atonement. I went to Sir John Wimpledon's. I took poor Sir
+Hugh, there, and these other gentlemen aside, and told them my news. We
+narrowly observed this man, and were shocked at our simplicity in not
+having discovered him before. These are men of honor and cool judgment,
+madam. Mr. Molyneux had acted for him in the affair of Captain Badger,
+and was strongly prejudiced in his favor; but Mr. Molyneux, Sir Hugh,
+Mr. Bantison, every one of them, in short, recognized him. In spite of
+his smooth face and his light hair, the adventurer Beaucaire was
+writ upon him amazing plain. Look at him, madam, if he will dare the
+inspection. You saw this Beaucaire well, the day of his expulsion from
+the rooms. Is not this he?”
+
+M. Beaucaire stepped close to her. Her pale face twitched.
+
+“Look!” he said.
+
+“Oh, oh!” she whispered with a dry throat, and fell back in the
+carriage.
+
+“Is it so?” cried the Duke.
+
+“I do not know.--I--cannot tell.”
+
+“One moment more. I begged these gentlemen to allow me to wipe out the
+insult I had unhappily offered to Bath, but particularly to you. They
+agreed not to forestall me or to interfere. I left Sir John Wimpledon's
+early, and arranged to give the sorry rascal a lashing under your own
+eyes, a satisfaction due the lady into whose presence he had dared to
+force himself.”
+
+“'Noblesse oblige'?” said M. Beaucaire in a tone of gentle inquiry.
+
+“And now, madam,” said the Duke, “I will detain you not one second
+longer. I plead the good purpose of my intentions, begging you to
+believe that the desire to avenge a hateful outrage, next to the wish to
+serve you, forms the dearest motive in the heart of Winterset.”
+
+“Bravo!” cried Beaucaire softly.
+
+Lady Mary leaned toward him, a thriving terror in her eyes. “It is
+false?” she faltered.
+
+“Monsieur should not have been born so high. He could have made little
+book'.”
+
+“You mean it is false?” she cried breathlessly.
+
+“'Od's blood, is she not convinced?” broke out Mr. Bantison. “Fellow,
+were you not the ambassador's barber?”
+
+“It is all false?” she whispered.
+
+“The mos' fine art, mademoiselle. How long you think it take M. de
+Winterset to learn that speech after he write it out? It is a mix of
+what is true and the mos' chaste art. Monsieur has become a man of
+letters. Perhaps he may enjoy that more than the wars. Ha, ha!”
+
+Mr. Bantison burst into a roar of laughter. “Do French gentlemen
+fight lackeys? Ho, ho, ho! A pretty country! We English do as was done
+to-night, have our servants beat them.”
+
+“And attend ourselves,” added M. Beaucaire, looking at the Duke,
+“somewhat in the background? But, pardon,” he mocked, “that remind' me.
+Francois, return to Mr. Bantison and these gentlemen their weapons.”
+
+“Will you answer a question?” said Molyneux mildly.
+
+“Oh, with pleasure, monsieur.”
+
+“Were you ever a barber?”
+
+“No, monsieur,” laughed the young man.
+
+“Pah!” exclaimed Bantison. “Let me question him. Now, fellow, a
+confession may save you from jail. Do you deny you are Beaucaire?”
+
+“Deny to a such judge?”
+
+“Ha!” said Bantison. “What more do you want, Molyneux? Fellow, do you
+deny that you came to London in the ambassador's suite?”
+
+“No, I do not deny.”
+
+“He admits it! Didn't you come as his barber?”
+
+“Yes, my frien', as his barber.” Lady Mary cried out faintly, and,
+shuddering, put both hands over her eyes.
+
+“I'm sorry,” said Molyneux. “You fight like a gentleman.”
+
+“I thank you, monsieur.”
+
+“You called yourself Beaucaire?”
+
+“Yes, monsieur.” He was swaying to and fro; his servants ran to support
+him.
+
+“I wish--” continued Molyneux, hesitating. “Evil take me!--but I'm
+sorry you're hurt.”
+
+“Assist Sir Hugh into my carriage,” said Lady Mary.
+
+“Farewell, mademoiselle!” M. Beaucaire's voice was very faint. His eyes
+were fixed upon her face. She did not look toward him.
+
+They were propping Sir Hugh on the cushions. The Duke rode up close to
+Beaucaire, but Francois seized his bridle fiercely, and forced the horse
+back on its haunches.
+
+“The man's servants worship him,” said Molyneux.
+
+“Curse your insolence!” exclaimed the Duke. “How much am I to bear from
+this varlet and his varlets? Beaucaire, if you have not left Bath by
+to-morrow noon, you will be clapped into jail, and the lashing you
+escaped to-night shall be given you thrice tenfold!”
+
+“I shall be-in the--Assemily--Room' at nine--o'clock, one week
+--from--to-night,” answered the young man, smiling jauntily, though
+his lips were colorless. The words cost him nearly all his breath and
+strength. “You mus' keep--in the--backgroun', monsieur. Ha, ha!” The
+door of the coach closed with a slam.
+
+“Mademoiselle--fare--well!”
+
+“Drive on!” said Lady Mary.
+
+M. Beaucaire followed the carriage with his eyes. As the noise of the
+wheels and the hoof-beats of the accompanying cavalcade grew fainter in
+the distance, the handkerchief he had held against his side dropped into
+the white dust, a heavy red splotch.
+
+“Only--roses,” he gasped, and fell back in the arms of his servants.
+
+
+Chapter Five
+
+
+Beau Nash stood at the door of the rooms, smiling blandly upon a dainty
+throng in the pink of its finery and gay furbelows. The great exquisite
+bent his body constantly in a series of consummately adjusted bows:
+before a great dowager, seeming to sweep the floor in august deference;
+somewhat stately to the young bucks; greeting the wits with gracious
+friendliness and a twinkle of raillery; inclining with fatherly
+gallantry before the beauties; the degree of his inclination measured
+the altitude of the recipient as accurately as a nicely calculated
+sand-glass measures the hours.
+
+The King of Bath was happy, for wit, beauty, fashion--to speak more
+concretely: nobles, belles, gamesters, beaux, statesmen, and poets
+--made fairyland (or opera bouffe, at least) in his dominions; play ran
+higher and higher, and Mr. Nash's coffers filled up with gold. To
+crown his pleasure, a prince of the French blood, the young Comte de
+Beaujolais, just arrived from Paris, had reached Bath at noon in state,
+accompanied by the Marquis de Mirepoix, the ambassador of Louis XV. The
+Beau dearly prized the society of the lofty, and the present visit was
+an honor to Bath: hence to the Master of Ceremonies. What was better,
+there would be some profitable hours with the cards and dice. So it was
+that Mr. Nash smiled never more benignly than on that bright evening.
+The rooms rang with the silvery voices of women and delightful laughter,
+while the fiddles went merrily, their melodies chiming sweetly with the
+joyance of his mood.
+
+The skill and brazen effrontery of the ambassador's scoundrelly servant
+in passing himself off for a man of condition formed the point of
+departure for every conversation. It was discovered that there were but
+three persons present who had not suspected him from the first; and, by
+a singular paradox, the most astute of all proved to be old Mr. Bicksit,
+the traveler, once a visitor at Chateaurien; for he, according to
+report, had by a coup of diplomacy entrapped the impostor into an
+admission that there was no such place. However, like poor Captain
+Badger, the worthy old man had held his peace out of regard for the Duke
+of Winterset. This nobleman, heretofore secretly disliked, suspected
+of irregular devices at play, and never admired, had won admiration and
+popularity by his remorse for the mistake, and by the modesty of his
+attitude in endeavoring to atone for it, without presuming upon the
+privilege of his rank to laugh at the indignation of society; an action
+the more praiseworthy because his exposure of the impostor entailed the
+disclosure of his own culpability in having stood the villain's sponsor.
+To-night, the happy gentleman, with Lady Mary Carlisle upon his arm,
+went grandly about the rooms, sowing and reaping a harvest of smiles.
+'Twas said work would be begun at once to rebuild the Duke's country
+seat, while several ruined Jews might be paid out of prison. People
+gazing on the beauty and the stately but modest hero by her side, said
+they would make a noble pair. She had long been distinguished by his
+attentions, and he had come brilliantly out of the episode of the
+Frenchman, who had been his only real rival. Wherever they went, there
+arose a buzz of pleasing gossip and adulation. Mr. Nash, seeing them
+near him, came forward with greetings. A word on the side passed between
+the nobleman and the exquisite.
+
+“I had news of the rascal tonight,” whispered Nash. “He lay at a farm
+till yesterday, when he disappeared; his ruffians, too.”
+
+“You have arranged?” asked the Duke.
+
+“Fourteen bailiffs are watching without. He could not come within
+gunshot. If they clap eyes on him, they will hustle him to jail, and his
+cutthroats shall not avail him a hair's weight. The impertinent swore
+he'd be here by nine, did he?”
+
+“He said so; and 'tis a rash dog, sir.”
+
+“It is just nine now.”
+
+“Send out to see if they have taken him.”
+
+“Gladly.”
+
+The Beau beckoned an attendant, and whispered in his ear.
+
+Many of the crowd had edged up to the two gentlemen with apparent
+carelessness, to overhear their conversation. Those who did overhear
+repeated it in covert asides, and this circulating undertone, confirming
+a vague rumor that Beaucaire would attempt the entrance that night, lent
+a pleasurable color of excitement to the evening. The French prince, the
+ambassador, and their suites were announced. Polite as the assembly
+was, it was also curious, and there occurred a mannerly rush to see the
+newcomers. Lady Mary, already pale, grew whiter as the throng closed
+round her; she looked up pathetically at the Duke, who lost no time in
+extricating her from the pressure.
+
+“Wait here,” he said; “I will fetch you a glass of negus,” and
+disappeared. He had not thought to bring a chair, and she, looking about
+with an increasing faintness and finding none, saw that she was standing
+by the door of a small side-room. The crowd swerved back for the passage
+of the legate of France, and pressed upon her. She opened the door, and
+went in.
+
+The room was empty save for two gentlemen, who were quietly playing
+cards at a table. They looked up as she entered. They were M. Beaucaire
+and Mr. Molyneux.
+
+She uttered a quick cry and leaned against the wall, her hand to her
+breast. Beaucaire, though white and weak, had brought her a chair before
+Molyneux could stir.
+
+“Mademoiselle--”
+
+“Do not touch me!” she said, with such frozen abhorrence in her voice
+that he stopped short. “Mr. Molyneux, you seek strange company!”
+
+“Madam,” replied Molyneux, bowing deeply, as much to Beaucaire as to
+herself, “I am honored by the presence of both of you.
+
+“Oh, are you mad!” she exclaimed, contemptuously.
+
+“This gentleman has exalted me with his confidence, madam,” he replied.
+
+“Will you add your ruin to the scandal of this fellow's presence here?
+How he obtained entrance--”
+
+“Pardon, mademoiselle,” interrupted Beaucaire. “Did I not say I should
+come? M. Molyneux was so obliging as to answer for me to the fourteen
+frien's of M. de Winterset and Meestaire Nash.”
+
+“Do you not know,” she turned vehemently upon Molyneux, “that he will be
+removed the moment I leave this room? Do you wish to be dragged out
+with him? For your sake, sir, because I have always thought you a man
+of heart, I give you a chance to save yourself from disgrace--and--your
+companion from jail. Let him slip out by some retired way, and you
+may give me your arm and we will enter the next room as if nothing had
+happened. Come, sir--”
+
+“Mademoiselle--”
+
+“Mr. Molyneux, I desire to hear nothing from your companion. Had I not
+seen you at cards with him I should have supposed him in attendance as
+your lackey. Do you desire to take advantage of my offer, sir?”
+
+“Mademoiselle, I could not tell you, on that night--”
+
+“You may inform your high-born friend, Mr. Molyneux, that I heard
+everything he had to say; that my pride once had the pleasure of
+listening to his high-born confession!”
+
+“Ah, it is gentle to taunt one with his birth, mademoiselle? Ah, no!
+There is a man in my country who say strange things of that--that a man
+is not his father, but himself.”
+
+“You may inform your friend, Mr. Molyneux, that he had a chance to
+defend himself against accusation; that he said all--”
+
+“That I did say all I could have strength to say. Mademoiselle, you did
+not see--as it was right--that I had been stung by a big wasp. It was
+nothing, a scratch; but, mademoiselle, the sky went round and the moon
+dance' on the earth. I could not wish that big wasp to see he had stung
+me; so I mus' only say what I can have strength for, and stand straight
+till he is gone. Beside', there are other rizzons. Ah, you mus' belief!
+My Molyneux I sen' for, and tell him all, because he show courtesy
+to the yo'ng Frenchman, and I can trus' him. I trus' you,
+mademoiselle--long ago--and would have tol' you ev'rything, excep' jus'
+because--well, for the romance, the fon! You belief? It is so clearly
+so; you do belief, mademoiselle?”
+
+She did not even look at him. M. Beaucaire lifted his hand appealingly
+toward her. “Can there be no faith in--in--he said timidly, and paused.
+She was silent, a statue, my Lady Disdain.
+
+“If you had not belief' me to be an impostor; if I had never said I was
+Chateaurien; if I had been jus' that Monsieur Beaucaire of the story
+they tol' you, but never with the heart of a lackey, an hones' man, a
+man, the man you knew, himself, could you--would you--” He was trying
+to speak firmly; yet, as he gazed upon her splendid beauty, he
+choked slightly, and fumbled in the lace at his throat with unsteady
+fingers.--“Would you--have let me ride by your side in the autumn
+moonlight?” Her glance passed by him as it might have passed by a
+footman or a piece of furniture. He was dressed magnificently, a
+multitude of orders glittering on his breast. Her eye took no knowledge
+of him.
+
+“Mademoiselle-I have the honor to ask you: if you had known this
+Beaucaire was hones', though of peasant birth, would you--”
+
+Involuntarily, controlled as her icy presence was, she shuddered. There
+was a moment of silence.
+
+“Mr. Molyneux,” said Lady Mary, “in spite of your discourtesy in
+allowing a servant to address me, I offer you a last chance to leave
+this room undisgraced. Will you give me your arm?”
+
+“Pardon me, madam,” said Mr. Molyneux.
+
+Beaucaire dropped into a chair with his head bent low and his arm
+outstretched on the table; his eyes filled slowly in spite of himself,
+and two tears rolled down the young man's cheeks.
+
+“An' live men are jus'--names!” said M. Beaucaire.
+
+
+
+Chapter Six
+
+
+In the outer room, Winterset, unable to find Lady Mary, and supposing
+her to have joined Lady Rellerton, disposed of his negus, then
+approached the two visitors to pay his respects to the young prince,
+whom he discovered to be a stripling of seventeen, arrogant looking,
+but pretty as a girl. Standing beside the Marquis de Mirepoix--a man of
+quiet bearing--he was surrounded by a group of the great, among whom Mr.
+Nash naturally counted himself. The Beau was felicitating himself that
+the foreigners had not arrived a week earlier, in which case he and Bath
+would have been detected in a piece of gross ignorance concerning the
+French nobility--making much of de Mirepoix's ex-barber.
+
+“'Tis a lucky thing that fellow was got out of the way,” he ejaculated,
+under cover.
+
+“Thank me for it,” rejoined Winterset.
+
+An attendant begged Mr. Nash's notice. The head bailiff sent word that
+Beaucaire had long since entered the building by a side door. It was
+supposed Mr. Nash had known of it, and the Frenchman was not arrested,
+as Mr. Molyneux was in his company, and said he would be answerable for
+him. Consternation was so plain on the Beau's trained face that the Duke
+leaned toward him anxiously.
+
+“The villain's in, and Molyneux hath gone mad!”
+
+Mr. Bantison, who had been fiercely elbowing his way toward them, joined
+heads with them. “You may well say he is in,” he exclaimed “and if you
+want to know where, why, in yonder card-room. I saw him through the
+half-open door.”
+
+“What's to be done?” asked the Beau.
+
+“Send the bailiffs--”
+
+“Fie, fie! A file of bailiffs? The scandal!”
+
+“Then listen to me,” said the Duke. “I'll select half-a-dozen gentlemen,
+explain the matter, and we'll put him in the center of us and take him
+out to the bailiffs. 'Twill appear nothing. Do you remain here and
+keep the attention of Beaujolais and de Mirepoix. Come, Bantison, fetch
+Townbrake and Harry Rakell yonder; I'll bring the others.”
+
+Three minutes later, his Grace of Winterset flung wide the card-room
+door, and, after his friends had entered, closed it.
+
+“Ah!” remarked M. Beaucaire quietly. “Six more large men.”
+
+The Duke, seeing Lady Mary, started; but the angry signs of her
+interview had not left her face, and reassured him. He offered his hand
+to conduct her to the door. “May I have the honor?”
+
+“If this is to be known, 'twill be better if I leave after; I should be
+observed if I went now.”
+
+“As you will, madam,” he answered, not displeased. “And now, you
+impudent villain,” he began, turning to M. Beaucaire, but to fall back
+astounded. “'Od's blood, the dog hath murdered and robbed some royal
+prince!” He forgot Lady Mary's presence in his excitement. “Lay hands on
+him!” he shouted. “Tear those orders from him!”
+
+Molyneux threw himself between. “One word!” he cried. “One word before
+you offer an outrage you will repent all your lives!”
+
+“Or let M. de Winterset come alone,” laughed M. Beaucaire.
+
+“Do you expect me to fight a cut-throat barber, and with bare hands?”
+
+“I think one does not expec' monsieur to fight anybody. Would I fight
+you, you think? That was why I had my servants, that evening we play.
+I would gladly fight almos' any one in the won'; but I did not wish to
+soil my hand with a--”
+
+“Stuff his lying mouth with his orders!” shouted the Duke.
+
+But Molyneux still held the gentlemen back. “One moment,” he cried.
+
+“M. de Winterset,” said Beaucaire, “of what are you afraid? You
+calculate well. Beaucaire might have been belief--an impostor that you
+yourself expose'? Never! But I was not goin' reveal that secret. You
+have not absolve me of my promise.”
+
+“Tell what you like,” answered the Duke. “Tell all the wild lies
+you have time for. You have five minutes to make up your mind to go
+quietly.”
+
+“Now you absolve me, then? Ha, ha! Oh, yes! Mademoiselle,” he bowed to
+Lady Mary, “I have the honor to reques' you leave the room. You shall
+miss no details if these frien's of yours kill me, on the honor of a
+French gentleman.”
+
+“A French what?” laughed Bantison.
+
+“Do you dare keep up the pretense?” cried Lord Town brake. “Know, you
+villain barber, that your master, the Marquis de Mirepoix, is in the
+next room.”
+
+Molyneux heaved a great sigh of relief. “Shall I--” He turned to M.
+Beaucaire.
+
+The young man laughed, and said: “Tell him come here at once.
+
+“Impudent to the last!” cried Bantison, as Molyneux hurried from the
+room.
+
+“Now you goin' to see M. Beaucaire's master,” said Beaucaire to Lady
+Mary. “'Tis true what I say, the other night. I cross from Prance in his
+suite; my passport say as his barber. Then to pass the ennui of exile, I
+come to Bath and play for what one will. It kill the time. But when the
+people hear I have been a servant they come only secretly; and there
+is one of them--he has absolve' me of a promise not to speak--of him I
+learn something he cannot wish to be tol'. I make some trouble to learn
+this thing. Why I should do this? Well--that is my own rizzon. So I make
+this man help me in a masque, the unmasking it was, for, as there is no
+one to know me, I throw off my black wig and become myself--and so I
+am 'Chateaurien,' Castle Nowhere. Then this man I use', this Winterset,
+he--”
+
+“I have great need to deny these accusations?” said the Duke.
+
+“Nay,” said Lady Mary wearily.
+
+“Shall I tell you why I mus' be 'Victor' and 'Beaucaire' and
+'Chateaurien,' and not myself?”
+
+“To escape from the bailiffs for debts for razors and soap,” gibed Lord
+Townbrake.
+
+“No, monsieur. In France I have got a cousin who is a man with a very
+bad temper at some time', and he will never enjoy his relatives to do
+what he does not wish--”
+
+He was interrupted by a loud commotion from without. The door was flung
+open, and the young Count of Beaujolais bounded in and threw his arms
+about the neck of M. Beaucaire.
+
+“Philippe!” he cried. “My brother, I have come to take you back with
+me.”
+
+M. de Mirepoix followed him, bowing as a courtier, in deference; but M.
+Beaucaire took both his hands heartily. Molyneux came after, with Mr.
+Nash, and closed the door.
+
+“My warmest felicitations,” said the Marquis. “There is no longer need
+for your incognito.”
+
+“Thou best of masters!” said Beaucaire, touching him fondly on the
+shoulder. “I know. Your courier came safely. And so I am forgiven! But
+I forget.” He turned to the lady. She had begun to tremble exceedingly.
+“Faires' of all the English fair,” he said, as the gentlemen bowed low
+to her deep courtesy, “I beg the honor to presen' to Lady Mary Carlisle,
+M. le Comte de Beaujolais. M. de Mirepoix has already the honor. Lady
+Mary has been very kind to me, my frien's; you mus' help me make my
+acknowledgment. Mademoiselle and gentlemen, will you give me that favour
+to detain you one instan'?”
+
+“Henri,” he turned to the young Beaujolais, “I wish you had shared my
+masque--I have been so gay!” The surface of his tone was merry, but
+there was an undercurrent, weary--sad, to speak of what was the mood,
+not the manner. He made the effect of addressing every one present, but
+he looked steadily at Lady Mary. Her eyes were fixed upon him, with a
+silent and frightened fascination, and she trembled more and more. “I am
+a great actor, Henri. These gentlemen are yet scarce convince' I am not
+a lackey! And I mus' tell you that I was jus' now to be expelled for
+having been a barber!”
+
+“Oh, no!” the ambassador cried out. “He would not be content with me;
+he would wander over a strange country.”
+
+“Ha, ha, my Mirepoix! And what is better, one evening I am oblige'
+to fight some frien's of M. de Winterset there, and some ladies and
+cavaliers look on, and they still think me a servant. Oh, I am a great
+actor! 'Tis true there is not a peasant in France who would not have
+then known one 'born'; but they are wonderful, this English people,
+holding by an idea once it is in their heads--a mos' worthy quality. But
+my good Molyneux here, he had speak to me with courtesy, jus' because
+I am a man an' jus' because he is always kind. (I have learn' that
+his great-grandfather was a Frenchman.) So I sen' to him and tell him
+ev'rything, and he gain admittance for me here to-night to await my
+frien's.
+
+“I was speaking to messieurs about my cousin, who will meddle in the
+affair' of his relatives. Well, that gentleman, he make a marriage for
+me with a good and accomplish' lady, very noble and very beautiful--and
+amiable.” (The young count at his elbow started slightly at this, but
+immediately appeared to wrap himself in a mantle of solemn thought.)
+“Unfortunately, when my cousin arrange' so, I was a dolt, a little
+blockhead; I swear to marry for myself and when I please, or never if
+I like. That lady is all things charming and gentle, and, in truth, she
+is--very much attach' to me--why should I not say it? I am so proud of
+it. She is very faithful and forgiving and sweet; she would be the
+same, I think, if I--were even--a lackey. But I? I was a dolt, a little
+unsensible brute; I did not value such thing' then; I was too yo'ng,
+las' June. So I say to my cousin, 'No, I make my own choosing!' 'Little
+fool,' he answer, 'she is the one for you. Am I not wiser than you?' And
+he was very angry, and, as he has influence in France, word come' that
+he will get me put in Vincennes, so I mus' run away quick till his anger
+is gone. My good frien' Mirepoix is jus' leaving for London; he take'
+many risk' for my sake; his hairdresser die before he start', so I
+travel as that poor barber. But my cousin is a man to be afraid of when
+he is angry, even in England, and I mus' not get my Mirepoix in trouble.
+I mus' not be discover' till my cousin is ready to laugh about it all
+and make it a joke. And there may be spies; so I change my name again,
+and come to Bath to amuse my retreat with a little gaming--I am always
+fond of that. But three day' ago M. le Marquis send me a courier to say
+that my brother, who know where I had run away, is come from France to
+say that my cousin is appease'; he need me for his little theatre, the
+play cannot go on. I do not need to espouse mademoiselle. All shall be
+forgiven if I return, and my brother and M. de Mirepoix will meet me in
+Bath to felicitate.
+
+“There is one more thing to say, that is all. I have said I learn' a
+secret, and use it to make a man introduce me if I will not tell. He has
+absolve' me of that promise. My frien's, I had not the wish to ruin that
+man. I was not receive'; Meestaire Nash had reboff me; I had no other
+way excep' to use this fellow. So I say, 'Take me to Lady Malbourne's
+ball as “Chateaurien.”' I throw off my wig, and shave, and behol', I am
+M. le Duc de Castle Nowhere. Ha, ha! You see?”
+
+The young man's manner suddenly changed. He became haughty, menacing.
+He stretched out his arm, and pointed at Winterset. “Now I am no
+'Beaucaire,' messieurs. I am a French gentleman. The man who introduce'
+me at the price of his honor, and then betray' me to redeem it, is that
+coward, that card-cheat there!”
+
+Winterset made a horrible effort to laugh. The gentlemen who surrounded
+him fell away as from pestilence. “A French gentleman!” he sneered
+savagely, and yet fearfully. “I don't know who you are. Hide behind as
+many toys and ribbons as you like; I'll know the name of the man who
+dares bring such a charge!”
+
+“Sir!” cried de Mirepoix sharply, advancing a step towards him; but he
+checked himself at once. He made a low bow of state, first to the young
+Frenchman, then to Lady Mary and the company. “Permit me, Lady Mary
+and gentlemen,” he said, “to assume the honor of presenting you to His
+Highness, Prince Louis-Philippe de Valois, Duke of Orleans, Duke of
+Chartres, Duke of Nemours, Duke of Montpeti'sier, First Prince of
+the Blood Royal, First Peer of France, Lieutenant-General of French
+Infantry, Governor of Dauphine, Knight of the Golden Fleece, Grand
+Master of the Order of Notre Dame, of Mount Carmel, and of St. Lazarus
+in Jerusalem; and cousin to His most Christian Majesty, Louis the
+Fifteenth, King of France.”
+
+“Those are a few of my brother's names,” whispered Henri of Beaujolais
+to Molyneux. “Old Mirepoix has the long breath, but it take' a strong
+man two day' to say all of them. I can suppose this Winterset know' now
+who bring the charge!”
+
+“Castle Nowhere!” gasped Beau Nash, falling back upon the burly prop of
+Mr. Bantison's shoulder.
+
+“The Duke of Orleans will receive a message from me within the hour!”
+ said Winterset, as he made his way to the door. His face was black with
+rage and shame.
+
+“I tol' you that I would not soil my hand with you,” answered the young
+man. “If you send a message no gentleman will bring it. Whoever shall
+bear it will receive a little beating from Francois.”
+
+He stepped to Lady Mary's side. Her head was bent low, her face averted.
+She seemed to breathe with difficulty, and leaned heavily upon a chair.
+“Monseigneur,” she faltered in a half whisper, “can you--forgive me? It
+is a bitter--mistake-I have made. Forgive.”
+
+“Forgive?” he answered, and his voice was as broken as hers; but he went
+on, more firmly: “It is--nothing--less than nothing. There is--only jus'
+one--in the--whole worl' who would not have treat' me the way that you
+treat' me. It is to her that I am goin' to make reparation. You know
+something, Henri? I am not goin' back only because the king forgive'
+me. I am goin' to please him; I am goin' to espouse mademoiselle, our
+cousin. My frien's, I ask your felicitations.”
+
+“And the king does not compel him!” exclaimed young Henri.
+
+“Henri, you want to fight me?” cried his brother sharply. “Don' you
+think the King of France is a wiser man than me?”
+
+He offered his hand to Lady Mary. “Mademoiselle is fatigue'. Will she
+honor me?”
+
+He walked with her to the door. Her hand fluttering faintly in his.
+From somewhere about the garments of one of them a little cloud of faded
+rose-leaves fell, and lay strewn on the floor behind them. He opened the
+door, and the lights shone on a multitude of eager faces turned toward
+it. There was a great hum of voices, and, over all, the fiddles wove a
+wandering air, a sweet French song of the voyageur.
+
+He bowed very low, as, with fixed and glistening eyes, Lady Mary
+Carlisle, the Beauty of Bath, passed slowly by him and went out of the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
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diff --git a/1983-0.zip b/1983-0.zip
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig    { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    .pagenum   {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal;
+               margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%;
+               text-align: right;}
+    pre        { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Monsieur Beaucaire
+
+Author: Booth Tarkington
+
+Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1983]
+Last Updated: March 3, 2018
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      by Booth Tarkington
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      Contents
+    </h2>
+    <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto">
+      <tr>
+        <td>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter One </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter Two </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter Three </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter Four </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter Five </a>
+          </p>
+          <p class="toc">
+            <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter Six </a>
+          </p>
+        </td>
+      </tr>
+    </table>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a> <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter One
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The young Frenchman did very well what he had planned to do. His guess
+      that the Duke would cheat proved good. As the unshod half-dozen figures
+      that had been standing noiselessly in the entryway stole softly into the
+      shadows of the chamber, he leaned across the table and smilingly plucked a
+      card out of the big Englishman's sleeve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merci, M. le Duc!&rdquo; he laughed, rising and stepping back from the table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman cried out, &ldquo;It means the dirty work of silencing you with
+      my bare hands!&rdquo; and came at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not move,&rdquo; said M. Beaucaire, so sharply that the other paused.
+      &ldquo;Observe behind you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman turned, and saw what trap he had blundered into; then stood
+      transfixed, impotent, alternately scarlet with rage and white with the
+      vital shame of discovery. M. Beaucaire remarked, indicating the silent
+      figures by a polite wave of the hand, &ldquo;Is it not a compliment to monsieur
+      that I procure six large men to subdue him? They are quite devote' to me,
+      and monsieur is alone. Could it be that he did not wish even his lackeys
+      to know he play with the yo'ng Frenchman who Meestaire Nash does not like
+      in the pomp-room? Monsieur is unfortunate to have come on foot and alone
+      to my apartment.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke's mouth foamed over with chaotic revilement. His captor smiled
+      brightly, and made a slight gesture, as one who brushes aside a boisterous
+      insect. With the same motion he quelled to stony quiet a resentful impetus
+      of his servants toward the Englishman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It's murder, is it, you carrion!&rdquo; finished the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Beaucaire lifted his shoulders in a mock shiver. &ldquo;What words! No, no,
+      no! No killing! A such word to a such host! No, no, not mur-r-der; only
+      disgrace!&rdquo; He laughed a clear, light laugh with a rising inflection,
+      seeming to launch himself upon an adventurous quest for sympathy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You little devilish scullion!&rdquo; spat out the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tut, tut! But I forget. Monsieur has pursue' his studies of deportment
+      amongs' his fellow-countrymen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you dream a soul in Bath will take your word that I&mdash;that I&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That M. le Duc de Winterset had a card up his sleeve?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You pitiful stroller, you stableboy, born in a stable&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not an honor to be born where monsieur must have been bred?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You scurvy foot-boy, you greasy barber, you cutthroat groom&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Overwhelm'!&rdquo; The young man bowed with imperturbable elation. &ldquo;M. le Duc
+      appoint' me to all the office' of his househol'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mustachioed fool, there are not five people of quality in Bath will
+      speak to you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, monsieur, not on the parade; but how many come to play with me here?
+      Because I will play always, night or day, for what one will, for any long,
+      and always fair, monsieur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You outrageous varlet! Every one knows you came to England as the French
+      Ambassador's barber. What man of fashion will listen to you? Who will
+      believe you?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All people, monsieur. Do you think I have not calculate', that I shall
+      make a failure of my little enterprise?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will monsieur not reseat himself?&rdquo; M. Beaucaire made a low bow. &ldquo;So. We
+      must not be too tire' for Lady Malbourne's rout. Ha, ha! And you, Jean,
+      Victor, and you others, retire; go in the hallway. Attend at the entrance,
+      Francois. So; now we shall talk. Monsieur, I wish you to think very cool.
+      Then listen; I will be briefly. It is that I am well known to be all,
+      entire' hones'. Gamblist? Ah, yes; true and mos profitable; but fair,
+      always fair; every one say that. Is it not so? Think of it. And&mdash;is
+      there never a w'isper come to M. le Duc that not all people belief him to
+      play always hones'? Ha, ha! Did it almos' be said to him las' year, after
+      when he play' with Milor' Tappin'ford at the chocolate-house&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You dirty scandal-monger!&rdquo; the Duke burst out. &ldquo;I'll&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur, monsieur!&rdquo; said the Frenchman. &ldquo;It is a poor valor to insult a
+      helpless captor. Can he retort upon his own victim? But it is for you to
+      think of what I say. True, I am not reco'nize on the parade; that my
+      frien's who come here do not present me to their ladies; that Meestaire
+      Nash has reboff' me in the pomp-room; still, am I not known for being
+      hones' and fair in my play, and will I not be belief, even I, when I lif'
+      my voice and charge you aloud with what is already w'isper'? Think of it!
+      You are a noble, and there will be some hang-dogs who might not fall away
+      from you. Only such would be lef' to you. Do you want it tol'? And you can
+      keep out of France, monsieur? I have lef' his service, but I have still
+      the ear of M. de Mirepoix, and he know' I never lie. Not a gentleman will
+      play you when you come to Paris.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman's white lip showed a row of scarlet dots upon it. &ldquo;How much
+      do you want?&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The room rang with the gay laughter of Beaucaire. &ldquo;I hol' your note' for
+      seven-hunder' pound'. You can have them, monsieur. Why does a such great
+      man come to play M. Beaucaire? Because no one else willin' to play M. le
+      Duc&mdash;he cannot pay. Ha, ha! So he come' to good Monsieur Beaucaire.
+      Money, ha, ha! What I want with money?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His Grace of Winterset's features were set awry to a sinister pattern. He
+      sat glaring at his companion in a snarling silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Money? Pouf!&rdquo; snapped the little gambler. &ldquo;No, no, no! It is that M. le
+      Duc, impoverish', somewhat in a bad odor as he is, yet command the entree
+      any-where&mdash;onless I&mdash;Ha, ha! Eh, monsieur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha! You dare think to force me&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Beaucaire twirled the tip of his slender mustache around the end of his
+      white forefinger. Then he said: &ldquo;Monsieur and me goin' to Lady Malbourne's
+      ball to-night&mdash;M. le Duc and me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Englishman roared, &ldquo;Curse your impudence!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit quiet. Oh, yes, that's all; we goin' together.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Certain. I make all my little plan'. 'Tis all arrange'.&rdquo; He paused, and
+      then said gravely, &ldquo;You goin' present me to Lady Mary Carlisle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The other laughed in utter scorn. &ldquo;Lady Mary Carlisle, of all women alive,
+      would be the first to prefer the devil to a man of no birth, barber.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis all arrange'; have no fear; nobody question monsieur's You goin'
+      take me to-night&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes. And after&mdash;then I have the entree. Is it much I ask? This one
+      little favor, and I never w'isper, never breathe that&mdash;it is to say,
+      I am always forever silent of monsieur's misfortune.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have the entree!&rdquo; sneered the other. &ldquo;Go to a lackeys' rout and dance
+      with the kitchen maids. If I would, I could not present you to Bath
+      society. I should have cartels from the fathers, brothers, and lovers of
+      every wench and madam in the place, even I. You would be thrust from Lady
+      Malbourne's door five minutes after you entered it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no, no!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Half the gentlemen in Bath have been here to play. They would know you,
+      wouldn't they, fool? You've had thousands out of Bantison, Rakell,
+      Guilford, and Townbrake. They would have you lashed by the grooms as your
+      ugly deserts are. You to speak to Lady Mary Carlisle! 'Od's blood! You!
+      Also, dolt, she would know you if you escaped the others. She stood within
+      a yard of you when Nash expelled you the pump-room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Beaucaire flushed slightly. &ldquo;You think I did not see?&rdquo; he asked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you dream that' because Winterset introduces a low fellow he will be
+      tolerated&mdash;that Bath will receive a barber?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have the distinction to call monsieur's attention,&rdquo; replied the young
+      man gayly, &ldquo;I have renounce that profession.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fool!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am now a man of honor!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Faugh!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A man of the parts,&rdquo; continued the the young Frenchman, &ldquo;and of
+      deportment; is it not so? Have you seen me of a fluster, or gross ever,
+      or, what sall I say&mdash;bourgeois? Shall you be shame' for your guest'
+      manner? No, no! And my appearance, is it of the people? Clearly, no. Do I
+      not compare in taste of apparel with your yo'ng Englishman? Ha, ha! To be
+      hope'. Ha, ha! So I am goin' talk with Lady Mary Carlisle.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah!&rdquo; The Duke made a savage burlesque. &ldquo;'Lady Mary Carlisle, may I
+      assume the honor of presenting the barber of the Marquis de Mirepoix?' So,
+      is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, monsieur,&rdquo; smiled the young man. &ldquo;Quite not so. You shall have
+      nothing to worry you, nothing in the worl'. I am goin' to assassinate my
+      poor mustachio&mdash;also remove this horrible black peruke, and emerge in
+      my own hair. Behol'!&rdquo; He swept the heavy curled, mass from his head as he
+      spoke, and his hair, coiled under the great wig, fell to his shoulders,
+      and sparkled yellow in the candle-light. He tossed his head to shake the
+      hair back from his cheeks. &ldquo;When it is dress', I am transform nobody can
+      know me; you shall observe. See how little I ask of you, how very little
+      bit. No one shall reco'nize 'M. Beaucaire' or 'Victor.' Ha, ha! 'Tis all
+      arrange'; you have nothing to fear.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curse you,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;do you think I'm going to be saddled with you
+      wherever I go as long as you choose?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A mistake. No. All I requi&mdash;All I beg&mdash;is this one evening.
+      'Tis all shall be necessary. After, I shall not need monsieur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take heed to yourself&mdash;after!&rdquo; vouchsafed the Englishman between his
+      teeth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Conquered!&rdquo; cried M. Beaucaire, and clapped his hands gleefully.
+      &ldquo;Conquered for the night! Aha, it ts riz'nable! I shall meet what you send&mdash;after.
+      One cannot hope too much of your patience. It is but natural you should
+      attemp' a little avengement for the rascal trap I was such a wicked fellow
+      as to set for you. I shall meet some strange frien's of yours after
+      to-night; not so? I must try to be not too much frighten'.&rdquo; He looked at
+      the Duke curiously. &ldquo;You want to know why I create this tragedy, why I am
+      so unkind as to entrap monsieur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His Grace of Winterset replied with a chill glance; a pulse in the
+      nobleman's cheek beat less relentlessly; his eye raged not so bitterly;
+      the steady purple of his own color was returning; his voice was less
+      hoarse; he was regaining his habit. &ldquo;'Tis ever the manner of the vulgar,&rdquo;
+       he observed, &ldquo;to wish to be seen with people of fashion.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no, no, no!&rdquo; The Frenchman laughed. &ldquo;'Tis not that. Am I not already
+      one of these 'men of fashion'? I lack only the reputation of birth.
+      Monsieur is goin' supply that. Ha, ha! I shall be noble from to-night.
+      'Victor,' the artis', is condemn' to death; his throat shall be cut with
+      his own razor. 'M. Beaucaire&mdash;'&rdquo; Here the young man sprang to his
+      feet, caught up the black wig, clapped into it a dice-box from the table,
+      and hurled it violently through the open door. &ldquo;'M. Beaucaire' shall be
+      choke' with his own dice-box. Who is the Phoenix to remain? What advantage
+      have I not over other men of rank who are merely born to it? I may choose
+      my own. No! Choose for me, monsieur. Shall I be chevalier, comte, vicomte,
+      marquis, what? None. Out of compliment to monsieur can I wish to be
+      anything he is not? No, no! I shall be M. le Duc, M. le Duc de&mdash;de
+      Chateaurien. Ha, ha! You see? You are my confrere.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Beaucaire trod a dainty step or two, waving his hand politely to the
+      Duke, as though in invitation to join the celebration of his rank. The
+      Englishman watched, his eye still and harsh, already gathering in
+      craftiness. Beaucaire stopped suddenly. &ldquo;But how I forget my age! I am
+      twenty-three,&rdquo; he said, with a sigh. &ldquo;I rejoice too much to be of the
+      quality. It has been too great for me, and I had always belief' myself
+      free of such ambition. I thought it was enough to behol' the opera without
+      wishing to sing; but no, England have teach' me I have those vulgar
+      desire'. Monsieur, I am goin' tell you a secret: the ladies of your
+      country are very diff'runt than ours. One may adore the demoiselle, one
+      must worship the lady of England. Our ladies have the&mdash;it is the
+      beauty of youth; yours remain comely at thirty. Ours are flowers, yours
+      are stars! See, I betray myself, I am so poor a patriot. And there is one
+      among these stars&mdash;ah, yes, there is one&mdash;the poor Frenchman has
+      observe' from his humble distance; even there he could bask in the
+      glowing!&rdquo; M. Beaucaire turned to the window, and looked out into the dark.
+      He did not see the lights of the town. When he turned again, he had half
+      forgotten his prisoner; other pictures were before him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, what radiance!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;Those people up over the sky, they want to
+      show they wish the earth to be happy, so they smile, and make this lady.
+      Gold-haired, an angel of heaven, and yet a Diana of the chase! I see her
+      fly by me on her great horse one day; she touch' his mane with her
+      fingers. I buy that clipping from the groom. I have it here with my dear
+      brother's picture. Ah, you! Oh, yes, you laugh! What do you know! 'Twas
+      all I could get. But I have heard of the endeavor of M. le Duc to recoup
+      his fortunes. This alliance shall fail. It is not the way&mdash;that
+      heritage shall be safe' from him! It is you and me, monsieur! You can
+      laugh! The war is open', and by me! There is one great step taken: until
+      to-night there was nothing for you to ruin, to-morrow you have got a noble
+      of France&mdash;your own protege&mdash;to besiege and sack. And you are to
+      lose, because you think such ruin easy, and because you understand nothing&mdash;far
+      less&mdash;of divinity. How could you know? You have not the fiber; the
+      heart of a lady is a blank to you; you know nothing of the vibration.
+      There are some words that were made only to tell of Lady Mary, for her
+      alone&mdash;bellissima, divine, glorieuse! Ah, how I have watch' her! It
+      is sad to me when I see her surround' by your yo'ng captains, your nobles,
+      your rattles, your beaux&mdash;ha, ha!&mdash;and I mus' hol' far aloof. It
+      is sad for me&mdash;but oh, jus' to watch her and to wonder! Strange it
+      is, but I have almos' cry out with rapture at a look I have see' her give
+      another man, so beautiful it was, so tender, so dazzling of the eyes and
+      so mirthful of the lips. Ah, divine coquetry! A look for another, ah-i-me!
+      for many others; and even to you, one day, a rose, while I&mdash;I,
+      monsieur, could not even be so blessed as to be the groun' beneath her
+      little shoe! But to-night, monsieur&mdash;ha, ha!&mdash;to-night,
+      monsieur, you and me, two princes, M. le Duc de Winterset and M. le Duc de
+      Chateaurien&mdash;ha, ha! you see?&mdash;we are goin' arm-in-arm to that
+      ball, and I am goin' have one of those looks, I! And a rose! I! It is
+      time. But ten minute', monsieur. I make my apology to keep you waitin' so
+      long while I go in the nex' room and execute my poor mustachio&mdash;that
+      will be my only murder for jus' this one evening&mdash;and inves' myself
+      in white satin. Ha, ha! I shall be very gran', monsieur. Francois, send
+      Louis to me; Victor, to order two chairs for monsieur and me; we are goin'
+      out in the worl' to-right!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter Two
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      The chairmen swarmed in the street at Lady Malbourne's door, where the
+      joyous vulgar fought with muddied footmen and tipsy link-boys for places
+      of vantage whence to catch a glimpse of quality and of raiment at its
+      utmost. Dawn was in the east, and the guests were departing. Singly or in
+      pairs, glittering in finery, they came mincing down the steps, the ghost
+      of the night's smirk fading to jadedness as they sought the dark recesses
+      of their chairs. From within sounded the twang of fiddles still swinging
+      manfully at it, and the windows were bright with the light of many
+      candles. When the door was flung open to call the chair of Lady Mary
+      Carlisle, there was an eager pressure of the throng to see.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A small, fair gentleman in white satin came out upon the steps, turned and
+      bowed before a lady who appeared in the doorway, a lady whose royal
+      loveliness was given to view for a moment in that glowing frame. The crowd
+      sent up a hearty English cheer for the Beauty of Bath.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The gentleman smiled upon them delightedly. &ldquo;What enchanting people!&rdquo; he
+      cried. &ldquo;Why did I not know, so I might have shout' with them?&rdquo; The lady
+      noticed the people not at all; whereat, being pleased, the people cheered
+      again. The gentleman offered her his hand; she made a slow courtesy;
+      placed the tips of her fingers upon his own. &ldquo;I am honored, M. de
+      Chateaurien,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; he cried earnestly. &ldquo;Behol' a poor Frenchman whom emperors
+      should envy.&rdquo; Then reverently and with the pride of his gallant office
+      vibrant in every line of his slight figure, invested in white satin and
+      very grand, as he had prophesied, M. le Duc de Chateaurien handed Lady
+      Mary Carlisle down the steps, an achievement which had figured in the
+      ambitions of seven other gentlemen during the evening.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Am I to be lef'in such onhappiness?&rdquo; he said in a low voice. &ldquo;That rose I
+      have beg' for so long&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never!&rdquo; said Lady Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, I do not deserve it, I know so well! But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is the greatness of my onworthiness that alone can claim your charity;
+      let your kin' heart give this little red rose, this great alms, to the
+      poor beggar.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She was seated in the chair. &ldquo;Ah, give the rose,&rdquo; he whispered. Her beauty
+      shone dazzlingly on him out of the dimness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never!&rdquo; she flashed defiantly as she was closed in. &ldquo;Never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The rose fell at his feet.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A rose lasts till morning,&rdquo; said a voice behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Turning, M. de Chateaurien looked beamingly upon the face of the Duke of
+      Winterset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis already the daylight,&rdquo; he replied, pointing to the east. &ldquo;Monsieur,
+      was it not enough honor for you to han' out madame, the aunt of Lady Mary?
+      Lady Rellerton retain much trace of beauty. 'Tis strange you did not
+      appear more happy.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The rose is of an unlucky color, I think,&rdquo; observed the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The color of a blush, my brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unlucky, I still maintain,&rdquo; said the other calmly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The color of the veins of a Frenchman. Ha, ha!&rdquo; cried the young man.
+      &ldquo;What price would be too high? A rose is a rose! A good-night, my brother,
+      a good-night. I wish you dreams of roses, red roses, only beautiful red,
+      red roses!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stay! Did you see the look she gave these street folk when they shouted
+      for her? And how are you higher than they, when she knows? As high as
+      yonder horse-boy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Red roses, my brother, only roses. I wish you dreams of red, red roses!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter Three
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      It was well agreed by the fashion of Bath that M. le Duc de Chateaurien
+      was a person of sensibility and haut ton; that his retinue and equipage
+      surpassed in elegance; that his person was exquisite, his manner engaging.
+      In the company of gentlemen his ease was slightly tinged with graciousness
+      (his single equal in Bath being his Grace of Winterset); but it was
+      remarked that when he bowed over a lady's hand, his air bespoke only a gay
+      and tender reverence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was the idol of the dowagers within a week after his appearance;
+      matrons warmed to him; young belles looked sweetly on him, while the
+      gentlemen were won to admiration or envy. He was of prodigious wealth: old
+      Mr. Bicksit, who dared not, for his fame's sake, fail to have seen all
+      things, had visited Chateaurien under the present Duke's father, and
+      descanted to the curious upon its grandeurs. The young noble had one
+      fault, he was so poor a gambler. He cared nothing for the hazards of a die
+      or the turn of a card. Gayly admitting that he had been born with no
+      spirit of adventure in him, he was sure, he declared, that he failed of
+      much happiness by his lack of taste in such matters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But he was not long wanting the occasion to prove his taste in the matter
+      of handling a weapon. A certain led-captain, Rohrer by name, notorious,
+      amongst other things, for bearing a dexterous and bloodthirsty blade, came
+      to Bath post-haste, one night, and jostled heartily against him, in the
+      pump-room on the following morning. M. de Chauteaurien bowed, and turned
+      aside without offense, continuing a conversation with some gentlemen near
+      by. Captain Rohrer jostled against him a second time. M. de Chateaurien
+      looked him in the eye, and apologized pleasantly for being so much in the
+      way. Thereupon Rohrer procured an introduction to him, and made some
+      observations derogatory to the valor and virtue of the French. There was
+      current a curious piece of gossip of the French court: a prince of the
+      blood royal, grandson of the late Regent and second in the line of
+      succession to the throne of France, had rebelled against the authority of
+      Louis XV, who had commanded him to marry the Princess Henriette, cousin to
+      both of them. The princess was reported to be openly devoted to the cousin
+      who refused to accept her hand at the bidding of the king; and, as rumor
+      ran, the prince's caprice elected in preference the discipline of
+      Vincennes, to which retirement the furious king had consigned him. The
+      story was the staple gossip of all polite Europe; and Captain Rohrer,
+      having in his mind a purpose to make use of it in leading up to a
+      statement that should be general to the damage of all Frenchwomen, and
+      which a Frenchman might not pass over as he might a jog of the elbow,
+      repeated it with garbled truths to make a scandal of a story which bore
+      none on a plain relation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He did not reach his deduction. M. de Chateaurien, breaking into his
+      narrative, addressed him very quietly. &ldquo;Monsieur,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;none but
+      swine deny the nobleness of that good and gentle lady, Mademoiselle la
+      Princesse de Bourbon-Conti. Every Frenchman know' that her cousin is a bad
+      rebel and ingrate, who had only honor and rispec' for her, but was so
+      wilful he could not let even the king say, 'You shall marry here, you
+      shall marry there.' My frien's,&rdquo; the young man turned to the others, &ldquo;may
+      I ask you to close roun' in a circle for one moment? It is clearly shown
+      that the Duke of Orleans is a scurvy fellow, but not&mdash;&rdquo; he wheeled
+      about and touched Captain Rohrer on the brow with the back of his gloved
+      hand&mdash;&ldquo;but not so scurvy as thou, thou swine of the gutter!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two hours later, with perfect ease, he ran Captain Rohrer through the left
+      shoulder&mdash;after which he sent a basket of red roses to the Duke of
+      Winterset. In a few days he had another captain to fight. This was a
+      ruffling buck who had the astounding indiscretion to proclaim M. de
+      Chateaurien an impostor. There was no Chateaurien, he swore. The Frenchman
+      laughed in his face, and, at twilight of the same day, pinked him
+      carefully through the right shoulder. It was not that he could not put
+      aside the insult to himself, he declared to Mr. Molyneux, his second, and
+      the few witnesses, as he handed his wet sword to his lackey&mdash;one of
+      his station could not be insulted by a doubt of that station&mdash;but he
+      fought in the quarrel of his friend Winterset. This rascal had asserted
+      that M. le Duc had introduced an impostor. Could he overlook the insult to
+      a friend, one to whom he owed his kind reception in Bath? Then, bending
+      over his fallen adversary, he whispered: &ldquo;Naughty man, tell your master
+      find some better quarrel for the nex' he sen' agains' me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The conduct of M. de Chateaurien was pronounced admirable.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There was no surprise when the young foreigner fell naturally into the
+      long train of followers of the beautiful Lady Mary Carlisle, nor was there
+      great astonishment that he should obtain marked favor in her eyes, shown
+      so plainly that my Lord Townbrake, Sir Hugh Guilford, and the rich Squire
+      Bantison, all of whom had followed her through three seasons, swore with
+      rage, and his Grace of Winterset stalked from her aunt's house with black
+      brows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Meeting the Duke there on the evening after his second encounter de
+      Chateaurien smiled upon him brilliantly. &ldquo;It was badly done; oh, so
+      badly!&rdquo; he whispered. &ldquo;Can you afford to have me strip' of my mask by any
+      but yourself? You, who introduce' me? They will say there is some bad
+      scandal that I could force you to be my god-father. You mus' get the
+      courage yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I told you a rose had a short life,&rdquo; was the answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, those roses! 'Tis the very greates' rizzon to gather each day a fresh
+      one.&rdquo; He took a red bud from his breast for an instant, and touched it to
+      his lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M. de Chateaurien!&rdquo; It was Lady Mary's voice; she stood at a table where
+      a vacant place had been left beside her. &ldquo;M. de Chateaurien, we have been
+      waiting very long for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke saw the look she did not know she gave the Frenchman, and he lost
+      countenance for a moment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We approach a climax, eh, monsieur?&rdquo; said M. de Chateaurien.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter Four
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      There fell a clear September night, when the moon was radiant over town
+      and country, over cobbled streets and winding roads. From the fields the
+      mists rose slowly, and the air was mild and fragrant, while distances were
+      white and full of mystery. All of Bath that pretended to fashion or
+      condition was present that evening at a fete at the house of a country
+      gentleman of the neighborhood. When the stately junket was concluded, it
+      was the pleasure of M. de Chateaurien to form one of the escort of Lady
+      Mary's carriage for the return. As they took the road, Sir Hugh Guilford
+      and Mr. Bantison, engaging in indistinct but vigorous remonstrance with
+      Mr. Molyneux over some matter, fell fifty or more paces behind, where they
+      continued to ride, keeping up their argument. Half a dozen other gallants
+      rode in advance, muttering among themselves, or attended laxly upon Lady
+      Mary's aunt on the other side of the coach, while the happy Frenchman was
+      permitted to ride close to that adorable window which framed the fairest
+      face in England.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He sang for her a little French song, a song of the voyageur who dreamed
+      of home. The lady, listening, looking up at the bright moon, felt a warm
+      drop upon her cheek, and he saw the tears sparkling upon her lashes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he whispered then, &ldquo;I, too, have been a wanderer, but my
+      dreams were not of France; no, I do not dream of that home, of that dear
+      country. It is of a dearer country, a dream country&mdash;a country of
+      gold and snow,&rdquo; he cried softly, looking it her white brow and the fair,
+      lightly powdered hair above it. &ldquo;Gold and snow, and the blue sky of a
+      lady's eyes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had thought the ladies of France were dark, sir.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Cruel! It is that she will not understan'! Have I speak of the ladies of
+      France? No, no, no! It is of the faires' country; yes, 'tis a province of
+      heaven, mademoiselle. Do I not renounce my allegiance to France? Oh, yes!
+      I am subjec'&mdash;no, content to be slave&mdash;in the lan' of the blue
+      sky, the gold, and the snow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A very pretty figure,&rdquo; answered Lady Mary, her eyes downcast. &ldquo;But does
+      it not hint a notable experience in the making of such speeches?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tormentress! No. It prove only the inspiration it is to know you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We English ladies hear plenty of the like sir; and we even grow brilliant
+      enough to detect the assurance that lies beneath the courtesies of our own
+      gallants.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Merci! I should believe so!&rdquo; ejaculated M. de Chateaurien: but he
+      smothered the words upon his lips.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Her eyes were not lifted. She went on: &ldquo;We come, in time, to believe that
+      true feeling comes faltering forth, not glibly; that smoothness betokens
+      the adept in the art, sir, rather than your true&mdash;your true&mdash;&rdquo;
+       She was herself faltering; more, blushing deeply, and halting to a full
+      stop in terror of a word. There was a silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Your&mdash;true&mdash;lover,&rdquo; he said huskily. When he had said that word
+      both trembled. She turned half away into the darkness of the coach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know what make' you to doubt me,&rdquo; he said, faltering himself, though it
+      was not his art that prompted him. &ldquo;They have tol' you the French do
+      nothing always but make love, is it not so? Yes, you think I am like that.
+      You think I am like that now!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She made no sign.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I suppose,&rdquo; he sighed, &ldquo;I am unriz'nable; I would have the snow not so
+      col'&mdash;for jus' me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Turn to me,&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fragrance of the fields came to them, and from the distance the faint,
+      clear note of a hunting-horn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Turn to me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The lovely head was bent very low. Her little gloved hand lay upon the
+      narrow window ledge. He laid his own gently upon it. The two hands were
+      shaking like twin leaves in the breeze. Hers was not drawn away. After a
+      pause, neither knew how long, he felt the warm fingers turn and clasp
+      themselves tremulously about his own. At last she looked up bravely and
+      met his eyes. The horn was wound again&mdash;nearer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All the cold was gone from the snows&mdash;long ago,&rdquo; she said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My beautiful!&rdquo; he whispered; it was all he could say. &ldquo;My beautiful!&rdquo; But
+      she clutched his arm, startled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Ware the road!&rdquo; A wild halloo sounded ahead. The horn wound loudly.
+      &ldquo;'Ware the road!&rdquo; There sprang up out of the night a flying thunder of
+      hoof-beats. The gentlemen riding idly in front of the coach scattered to
+      the hedge-sides; and, with drawn swords flashing in the moon, a party of
+      horsemen charged down the highway, their cries blasting the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Barber! Kill the barber!&rdquo; they screamed. &ldquo;Barber! Kill the barber!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Beaucaire had but time to draw his sword when they were upon him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A moi!&rdquo; his voice rang out clearly as he rose in his stirrups. &ldquo;A moi,
+      Francois, Louis, Berquin! A moi, Francois!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The cavaliers came straight at him. He parried the thrust of the first,
+      but the shock of collision hurled his horse against the side of the coach.
+      &ldquo;Sacred swine!&rdquo; he cried bitterly. &ldquo;To endanger a lady, to make this brawl
+      in a lady's presence! Drive on!&rdquo; he shouted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No!&rdquo; cried Lady Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The Frenchman's assailants were masked, but they were not highwaymen.
+      &ldquo;Barber! Barber!&rdquo; they shouted hoarsely, and closed in on him in a circle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See how he use his steel!&rdquo; laughed M. Beaucaire, as his point passed
+      through a tawdry waistcoat. For a moment he cut through the ring and
+      cleared a space about him, and Lady Mary saw his face shining in the
+      moonlight. &ldquo;Canaille!&rdquo; he hissed, as his horse sank beneath him; and,
+      though guarding his head from the rain of blows from above, he managed to
+      drag headlong from his saddle the man who had hamstrung the poor brute.
+      The fellow came suddenly to the ground, and lay there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it not a compliment,&rdquo; said a heavy voice, &ldquo;to bring six large men to
+      subdue monsieur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, you are there, my frien'! In the rear&mdash;a little in the rear, I
+      think. Ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Frenchman's play with his weapon was a revelation of skill, the more
+      extraordinary as he held in his hand only a light dress sword. But the
+      ring closed about him, and his keen defense could not avail him for more
+      than a few moments. Lady Mary's outriders, the gallants of her escort,
+      rode up close to the coach and encircled it, not interfering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir Hugh Guilford!&rdquo; cried Lady Mary wildly, &ldquo;if you will not help him,
+      give me your sword!&rdquo; She would have leaped to the ground, but Sir Hugh
+      held the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sit quiet, madam,&rdquo; he said to her; then, to the man on the box, &ldquo;Drive
+      on.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If he does, I'll kill him!&rdquo; she said fiercely. &ldquo;Ah, what cowards! Will
+      you see the Duke murdered?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Duke!&rdquo; laughed Guilford. &ldquo;They will not kill him, unless&mdash;be
+      easy, dear madam, 'twill be explained. Gad's life!&rdquo; he muttered to
+      Molyneux, &ldquo;'Twere time the varlet had his lashing! D'ye hear her?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Barber or no barber,&rdquo; answered Molyneux, &ldquo;I wish I had warned him. He
+      fights as few gentlemen could. Ah&mdash;ah! Look at that! 'Tis a shame!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      On foot, his hat gone, his white coat sadly rent and gashed, flecked, too,
+      with red, M. Beaucaire, wary, alert, brilliant, seemed to transform
+      himself into a dozen fencing-masters; and, though his skill appeared to
+      lie in delicacy and quickness, his play being continually with the point,
+      sheer strength failed to beat him down. The young man was laughing like a
+      child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Believe me,&rdquo; said Molyneux &ldquo;he's no barber! No, and never was!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      For a moment there was even a chance that M. Beaucaire might have the best
+      of it. Two of his adversaries were prostrate, more than one were groaning,
+      and the indomitable Frenchman had actually almost beat off the ruffians,
+      when, by a trick, he was overcome. One of them, dismounting, ran in
+      suddenly from behind, and seized his blade in a thick leather gauntlet.
+      Before Beaucaire could disengage the weapon, two others threw themselves
+      from their horses and hurled him to the earth. &ldquo;A moi! A moi, Francois!&rdquo;
+       he cried as he went down, his sword in fragments, but his voice unbroken
+      and clear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shame!&rdquo; muttered one or two of the gentlemen about the coach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Twas dastardly to take him so,&rdquo; said Molyneux. &ldquo;Whatever his deservings,
+      I'm nigh of a mind to offer him a rescue in the Duke's face.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Truss him up, lads,&rdquo; said the heavy voice. &ldquo;Clear the way in front of the
+      coach. There sit those whom we avenge upon a presumptuous lackey. Now,
+      Whiffen, you have a fair audience, lay on and baste him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Two men began to drag M. Beaucaire toward a great oak by the roadside.
+      Another took from his saddle a heavy whip with three thongs.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A moi, Francois!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      There was borne on the breeze an answer&mdash;&ldquo;Monseigneur! Monseigneur!&rdquo;
+       The cry grew louder suddenly. The clatter of hoofs urged to an anguish of
+      speed sounded on the night. M. Beaucaire's servants had lagged sorely
+      behind, but they made up for it now. Almost before the noise of their own
+      steeds they came riding down the moonlit aisle between the mists. Chosen
+      men, these servants of Beaucaire, and like a thunderbolt they fell upon
+      the astounded cavaliers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Chateaurien! Chateaurien!&rdquo; they shouted, and smote so swiftly that,
+      through lack of time, they showed no proper judgment, discriminating
+      nothing between non-combatants and their master's foes. They charged first
+      into the group about M. Beaucaire, and broke and routed it utterly. Two of
+      them leaped to the young man's side, while the other four, swerving,
+      scarce losing the momentum of their onset, bore on upon the gentlemen near
+      the coach, who went down beneath the fierceness of the onslaught, cursing
+      manfully.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Our just deserts,&rdquo; said Mr. Molyneux, his mouth full of dust and
+      philosophy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Hugh Guilford's horse fell with him, being literally ridden over, and
+      the baronet's leg was pinned under the saddle. In less than ten minutes
+      from the first attack on M. Beaucaire, the attacking party had fled in
+      disorder, and the patrician non-combatants, choking with expletives,
+      consumed with wrath, were prisoners, disarmed by the Frenchman's lackeys.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Guilford's discomfiture had freed the doors of the coach; so it was that
+      when M. Beaucaire, struggling to rise, assisted by his servants, threw out
+      one hand to balance himself, he found it seized between two small, cold
+      palms, and he looked into two warm, dilating eyes, that were doubly
+      beautiful because of the fright and rage that found room in them, too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. le Duc Chateaurien sprang to his feet without the aid of his lackeys,
+      and bowed low before Lady Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I make ten thousan' apology to be' the cause of a such melee in your
+      presence,&rdquo; he said; and then, turning to Francois, he spoke in French:
+      &ldquo;Ah, thou scoundrel! A little, and it had been too late.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Francois knelt in the dust before him. &ldquo;Pardon!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Monseigneur
+      commanded us to follow far in the rear, to remain unobserved. The wind
+      malignantly blew against monseigneur's voice.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See what it might have cost, my children,&rdquo; said his master, pointing to
+      the ropes with which they would have bound him and to the whip lying
+      beside them. A shudder passed over the lackey's frame; the utter horror in
+      his face echoed in the eyes of his fellows.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, monseigneur!&rdquo; Francois sprang back, and tossed his arms to heaven.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But it did not happen,&rdquo; said M. Beaucaire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It could not!&rdquo; exclaimed Francois.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No. And you did very well, my children&mdash;&rdquo; the young man smiled
+      benevolently&mdash;&ldquo;very well. And now,&rdquo; he continued, turning to Lady
+      Mary and speaking in English, &ldquo;let me be asking of our gallants yonder
+      what make' them to be in cabal with highwaymen. One should come to a
+      polite understanding with them, you think? Not so?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed, offering his hand to conduct her to the coach, where Molyneux
+      and his companions, having drawn Sir Hugh from under his horse, were
+      engaged in reviving and reassuring Lady Rellerton, who had fainted. But
+      Lady Mary stayed Beaucaire with a gesture, and the two stood where they
+      were.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monseigneur!&rdquo; she said, with a note of raillery in her voice, but
+      raillery so tender that he started with happiness. His movement brought
+      him a hot spasm of pain, and he clapped his hand to a red stain on his
+      waistcoat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are hurt!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is nothing,&rdquo; smiled M. Beaucaire. Then, that she might not see the
+      stain spreading, he held his handkerchief over the spot. &ldquo;I am a little&mdash;but
+      jus' a trifling&mdash;bruise'; 'tis all.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You shall ride in the coach,&rdquo; she whispered. &ldquo;Will you be pleased, M. de
+      Chateaurien?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, my beautiful!&rdquo; She seemed to wave before him like a shining mist. &ldquo;I
+      wish that ride might las' for always! Can you say that, mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monseigneur,&rdquo; she cried in a passion of admiration, &ldquo;I would what you
+      would have be, should be. What do you not deserve? You are the bravest man
+      in the world!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha! I am jus' a poor Frenchman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Would that a few Englishmen had shown themselves as 'poor' tonight. The
+      vile cowards, not to help you!&rdquo; With that, suddenly possessed by her
+      anger, she swept away from him to the coach.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sir Hugh, groaning loudly, was being assisted into the vehicle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My little poltroons,&rdquo; she said, &ldquo;what are you doing with your
+      fellow-craven, Sir Hugh Guilford, there?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; replied Molyneux humbly, &ldquo;Sir Hugh's leg is broken. Lady
+      Rellerton graciously permits him to be taken in.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not permit it! M. de Chateaurien rides with us.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir! Leave the wretch to groan by the roadside,&rdquo; she cried fiercely,
+      &ldquo;which plight I would were that of all of you! But there will be a pretty
+      story for the gossips to-morrow! And I could almost find pity for you when
+      I think of the wits when you return to town. Fine gentlemen you; hardy
+      bravos, by heaven! to leave one man to meet a troop of horse
+      single-handed, while you huddle in shelter until you are overthrown and
+      disarmed by servants! Oh, the wits! Heaven save you from the wits!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Address me no more! M. de Chateaurien, Lady Rellerton and I will greatly
+      esteem the honor of your company. Will you come?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She stepped quickly into the coach, and was gathering her skirts to make
+      room for the Frenchman, when a heavy voice spoke from the shadows of the
+      tree by the wayside.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Lady Mary Carlisle will, no doubt, listen to a word of counsel on this
+      point.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke of Winterset rode out into the moonlight, composedly untieing a
+      mask from about his head. He had not shared the flight of his followers,
+      but had retired into the shade of the oak, whence he now made his presence
+      known with the utmost coolness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gracious heavens, 'tis Winterset!&rdquo; exclaimed Lady Rellerton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Turned highwayman and cut-throat,&rdquo; cried Lady Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no,&rdquo; laughed M. Beaucaire, somewhat unsteadily, as he stood, swaying
+      a little, with one hand on the coach-door, the other pressed hard on his
+      side, &ldquo;he only oversee'; he is jus' a little bashful, sometime'. He is a
+      great man, but he don' want all the glory!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Barber,&rdquo; replied the Duke, &ldquo;I must tell you that I gladly descend to
+      bandy words with you; your monstrous impudence is a claim to rank I cannot
+      ignore. But a lackey who has himself followed by six other lackeys&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha! Has not M. le Duc been busy all this evening to justify me? And I
+      think mine mus' be the bes' six. Ha, ha! You think?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M. de Chateaurien,&rdquo; said Lady Mary, &ldquo;we are waiting for you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon,&rdquo; he replied. &ldquo;He has something to say; maybe it is bes' if you
+      hear it now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish to hear nothing from him&mdash;ever!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My faith, madam,&rdquo; cried the Duke, &ldquo;this saucy fellow has paid you the
+      last insult! He is so sure of you he does not fear you will believe the
+      truth. When all is told, if you do not agree he deserved the lashing we
+      planned to&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'll hear no more!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will bitterly repent it, madam. For your own sake I entreat&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I also,&rdquo; broke in M. Beaucaire. &ldquo;Permit me, mademoiselle; let him
+      speak.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then let him be brief,&rdquo; said Lady Mary, &ldquo;for I am earnest to be quit of
+      him. His explanation or an attack on my friend and on my carriage should
+      be made to my brother.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas that he was not here,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;to aid me! Madam, was your
+      carriage threatened? I have endeavored only to expunge a debt I owed to
+      Bath and to avenge an insult offered to yourself through&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir, sir, my patience will bear little more!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A thousan' apology,&rdquo; said M. Beaucaire. &ldquo;You will listen, I only beg,
+      Lady Mary?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She made an angry gesture of assent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam, I will be brief as I may. Two months ago there came to Bath a
+      French gambler calling himself Beaucaire, a desperate fellow with the
+      cards or dice, and all the men of fashion went to play at his lodging,
+      where he won considerable sums. He was small, wore a black wig and
+      mustachio. He had the insolence to show himself everywhere until the
+      Master of Ceremonies rebuffed him in the pump-room, as you know, and after
+      that he forbore his visits to the rooms. Mr. Nash explained (and was
+      confirmed, madam, by indubitable information) that this Beaucaire was a
+      man of unspeakable, vile, low birth, being, in fact, no other than a
+      lackey of the French king's ambassador, Victor by name, de Mirepoix's
+      barber. Although his condition was known, the hideous impudence of the
+      fellow did not desert him, and he remained in Bath, where none would speak
+      to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is your farrago nigh done, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A few moments, madam. One evening, three weeks gone, I observed a very
+      elegant equipage draw up to my door, and the Duke of Chateaurien was
+      announced. The young man's manners were worthy&mdash;according to the
+      French acceptance&mdash;and 'twere idle to deny him the most monstrous
+      assurance. He declared himself a noble traveling for pleasure. He had
+      taken lodgings in Bath for a season, he said, and called at once to pay
+      his respects to me. His tone was so candid&mdash;in truth, I am the
+      simplest of men, very easily gulled&mdash;and his stroke so bold, that I
+      did not for one moment suspect him; and, to my poignant regret&mdash;though
+      in the humblest spirit I have shown myself eager to atone&mdash;that very
+      evening I had the shame of presenting him to yourself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The shame, sir!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Have patience, pray, madam. Ay, the shame! You know what figure he hath
+      cut in Bath since that evening. All ran merrily with him until several
+      days ago Captain Badger denounced him as an impostor, vowing that
+      Chateaurien was nothing.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon,&rdquo; interrupted M. Beaucaire. &ldquo;'Castle Nowhere' would have been so
+      much better. Why did you not make him say it that way, monsieur?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Mary started; she was looking at the Duke, and her face was white. He
+      continued: &ldquo;Poor Captain Badger was stabbed that same day.&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Most befitting poor Captain Badger,&rdquo; muttered Molyneux.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&mdash;&mdash;And his adversary had the marvelous insolence to declare
+      that he fought in my quarrel! This afternoon the wounded man sent for me,
+      and imparted a very horrifying intelligence. He had discovered a lackey
+      whom he had seen waiting upon Beaucaire in attendance at the door of this
+      Chateaurien's lodging. Beaucaire had disappeared the day before
+      Chateaurien's arrival. Captain Badger looked closely at Chateaurien at
+      their next meeting, and identified him with the missing Beaucaire beyond
+      the faintest doubt. Overcome with indignation, he immediately proclaimed
+      the impostor. Out of regard for me, he did not charge him with being
+      Beaucaire; the poor soul was unwilling to put upon me the humiliation of
+      having introduced a barber; but the secret weighed upon him till he sent
+      for me and put everything in my hands. I accepted the odium; thinking only
+      of atonement. I went to Sir John Wimpledon's. I took poor Sir Hugh, there,
+      and these other gentlemen aside, and told them my news. We narrowly
+      observed this man, and were shocked at our simplicity in not having
+      discovered him before. These are men of honor and cool judgment, madam.
+      Mr. Molyneux had acted for him in the affair of Captain Badger, and was
+      strongly prejudiced in his favor; but Mr. Molyneux, Sir Hugh, Mr.
+      Bantison, every one of them, in short, recognized him. In spite of his
+      smooth face and his light hair, the adventurer Beaucaire was writ upon him
+      amazing plain. Look at him, madam, if he will dare the inspection. You saw
+      this Beaucaire well, the day of his expulsion from the rooms. Is not this
+      he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Beaucaire stepped close to her. Her pale face twitched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, oh!&rdquo; she whispered with a dry throat, and fell back in the carriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is it so?&rdquo; cried the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I do not know.&mdash;I&mdash;cannot tell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;One moment more. I begged these gentlemen to allow me to wipe out the
+      insult I had unhappily offered to Bath, but particularly to you. They
+      agreed not to forestall me or to interfere. I left Sir John Wimpledon's
+      early, and arranged to give the sorry rascal a lashing under your own
+      eyes, a satisfaction due the lady into whose presence he had dared to
+      force himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Noblesse oblige'?&rdquo; said M. Beaucaire in a tone of gentle inquiry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And now, madam,&rdquo; said the Duke, &ldquo;I will detain you not one second longer.
+      I plead the good purpose of my intentions, begging you to believe that the
+      desire to avenge a hateful outrage, next to the wish to serve you, forms
+      the dearest motive in the heart of Winterset.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bravo!&rdquo; cried Beaucaire softly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lady Mary leaned toward him, a thriving terror in her eyes. &ldquo;It is false?&rdquo;
+       she faltered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur should not have been born so high. He could have made little
+      book'.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean it is false?&rdquo; she cried breathlessly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Od's blood, is she not convinced?&rdquo; broke out Mr. Bantison. &ldquo;Fellow, were
+      you not the ambassador's barber?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is all false?&rdquo; she whispered.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The mos' fine art, mademoiselle. How long you think it take M. de
+      Winterset to learn that speech after he write it out? It is a mix of what
+      is true and the mos' chaste art. Monsieur has become a man of letters.
+      Perhaps he may enjoy that more than the wars. Ha, ha!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bantison burst into a roar of laughter. &ldquo;Do French gentlemen fight
+      lackeys? Ho, ho, ho! A pretty country! We English do as was done to-night,
+      have our servants beat them.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And attend ourselves,&rdquo; added M. Beaucaire, looking at the Duke, &ldquo;somewhat
+      in the background? But, pardon,&rdquo; he mocked, &ldquo;that remind' me. Francois,
+      return to Mr. Bantison and these gentlemen their weapons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you answer a question?&rdquo; said Molyneux mildly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, with pleasure, monsieur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Were you ever a barber?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, monsieur,&rdquo; laughed the young man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pah!&rdquo; exclaimed Bantison. &ldquo;Let me question him. Now, fellow, a confession
+      may save you from jail. Do you deny you are Beaucaire?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Deny to a such judge?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha!&rdquo; said Bantison. &ldquo;What more do you want, Molyneux? Fellow, do you deny
+      that you came to London in the ambassador's suite?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, I do not deny.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He admits it! Didn't you come as his barber?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, my frien', as his barber.&rdquo; Lady Mary cried out faintly, and,
+      shuddering, put both hands over her eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I'm sorry,&rdquo; said Molyneux. &ldquo;You fight like a gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I thank you, monsieur.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You called yourself Beaucaire?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, monsieur.&rdquo; He was swaying to and fro; his servants ran to support
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I wish&mdash;&rdquo; continued Molyneux, hesitating. &ldquo;Evil take me!&mdash;but
+      I'm sorry you're hurt.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Assist Sir Hugh into my carriage,&rdquo; said Lady Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Farewell, mademoiselle!&rdquo; M. Beaucaire's voice was very faint. His eyes
+      were fixed upon her face. She did not look toward him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were propping Sir Hugh on the cushions. The Duke rode up close to
+      Beaucaire, but Francois seized his bridle fiercely, and forced the horse
+      back on its haunches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The man's servants worship him,&rdquo; said Molyneux.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Curse your insolence!&rdquo; exclaimed the Duke. &ldquo;How much am I to bear from
+      this varlet and his varlets? Beaucaire, if you have not left Bath by
+      to-morrow noon, you will be clapped into jail, and the lashing you escaped
+      to-night shall be given you thrice tenfold!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I shall be-in the&mdash;Assemily&mdash;Room' at nine&mdash;o'clock, one
+      week &mdash;from&mdash;to-night,&rdquo; answered the young man, smiling
+      jauntily, though his lips were colorless. The words cost him nearly all
+      his breath and strength. &ldquo;You mus' keep&mdash;in the&mdash;backgroun',
+      monsieur. Ha, ha!&rdquo; The door of the coach closed with a slam.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle&mdash;fare&mdash;well!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Drive on!&rdquo; said Lady Mary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Beaucaire followed the carriage with his eyes. As the noise of the
+      wheels and the hoof-beats of the accompanying cavalcade grew fainter in
+      the distance, the handkerchief he had held against his side dropped into
+      the white dust, a heavy red splotch.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Only&mdash;roses,&rdquo; he gasped, and fell back in the arms of his servants.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter Five
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      Beau Nash stood at the door of the rooms, smiling blandly upon a dainty
+      throng in the pink of its finery and gay furbelows. The great exquisite
+      bent his body constantly in a series of consummately adjusted bows: before
+      a great dowager, seeming to sweep the floor in august deference; somewhat
+      stately to the young bucks; greeting the wits with gracious friendliness
+      and a twinkle of raillery; inclining with fatherly gallantry before the
+      beauties; the degree of his inclination measured the altitude of the
+      recipient as accurately as a nicely calculated sand-glass measures the
+      hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The King of Bath was happy, for wit, beauty, fashion&mdash;to speak more
+      concretely: nobles, belles, gamesters, beaux, statesmen, and poets &mdash;made
+      fairyland (or opera bouffe, at least) in his dominions; play ran higher
+      and higher, and Mr. Nash's coffers filled up with gold. To crown his
+      pleasure, a prince of the French blood, the young Comte de Beaujolais,
+      just arrived from Paris, had reached Bath at noon in state, accompanied by
+      the Marquis de Mirepoix, the ambassador of Louis XV. The Beau dearly
+      prized the society of the lofty, and the present visit was an honor to
+      Bath: hence to the Master of Ceremonies. What was better, there would be
+      some profitable hours with the cards and dice. So it was that Mr. Nash
+      smiled never more benignly than on that bright evening. The rooms rang
+      with the silvery voices of women and delightful laughter, while the
+      fiddles went merrily, their melodies chiming sweetly with the joyance of
+      his mood.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The skill and brazen effrontery of the ambassador's scoundrelly servant in
+      passing himself off for a man of condition formed the point of departure
+      for every conversation. It was discovered that there were but three
+      persons present who had not suspected him from the first; and, by a
+      singular paradox, the most astute of all proved to be old Mr. Bicksit, the
+      traveler, once a visitor at Chateaurien; for he, according to report, had
+      by a coup of diplomacy entrapped the impostor into an admission that there
+      was no such place. However, like poor Captain Badger, the worthy old man
+      had held his peace out of regard for the Duke of Winterset. This nobleman,
+      heretofore secretly disliked, suspected of irregular devices at play, and
+      never admired, had won admiration and popularity by his remorse for the
+      mistake, and by the modesty of his attitude in endeavoring to atone for
+      it, without presuming upon the privilege of his rank to laugh at the
+      indignation of society; an action the more praiseworthy because his
+      exposure of the impostor entailed the disclosure of his own culpability in
+      having stood the villain's sponsor. To-night, the happy gentleman, with
+      Lady Mary Carlisle upon his arm, went grandly about the rooms, sowing and
+      reaping a harvest of smiles. 'Twas said work would be begun at once to
+      rebuild the Duke's country seat, while several ruined Jews might be paid
+      out of prison. People gazing on the beauty and the stately but modest hero
+      by her side, said they would make a noble pair. She had long been
+      distinguished by his attentions, and he had come brilliantly out of the
+      episode of the Frenchman, who had been his only real rival. Wherever they
+      went, there arose a buzz of pleasing gossip and adulation. Mr. Nash,
+      seeing them near him, came forward with greetings. A word on the side
+      passed between the nobleman and the exquisite.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had news of the rascal tonight,&rdquo; whispered Nash. &ldquo;He lay at a farm till
+      yesterday, when he disappeared; his ruffians, too.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You have arranged?&rdquo; asked the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fourteen bailiffs are watching without. He could not come within gunshot.
+      If they clap eyes on him, they will hustle him to jail, and his cutthroats
+      shall not avail him a hair's weight. The impertinent swore he'd be here by
+      nine, did he?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He said so; and 'tis a rash dog, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is just nine now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Send out to see if they have taken him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Gladly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Beau beckoned an attendant, and whispered in his ear.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Many of the crowd had edged up to the two gentlemen with apparent
+      carelessness, to overhear their conversation. Those who did overhear
+      repeated it in covert asides, and this circulating undertone, confirming a
+      vague rumor that Beaucaire would attempt the entrance that night, lent a
+      pleasurable color of excitement to the evening. The French prince, the
+      ambassador, and their suites were announced. Polite as the assembly was,
+      it was also curious, and there occurred a mannerly rush to see the
+      newcomers. Lady Mary, already pale, grew whiter as the throng closed round
+      her; she looked up pathetically at the Duke, who lost no time in
+      extricating her from the pressure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Wait here,&rdquo; he said; &ldquo;I will fetch you a glass of negus,&rdquo; and
+      disappeared. He had not thought to bring a chair, and she, looking about
+      with an increasing faintness and finding none, saw that she was standing
+      by the door of a small side-room. The crowd swerved back for the passage
+      of the legate of France, and pressed upon her. She opened the door, and
+      went in.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The room was empty save for two gentlemen, who were quietly playing cards
+      at a table. They looked up as she entered. They were M. Beaucaire and Mr.
+      Molyneux.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She uttered a quick cry and leaned against the wall, her hand to her
+      breast. Beaucaire, though white and weak, had brought her a chair before
+      Molyneux could stir.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not touch me!&rdquo; she said, with such frozen abhorrence in her voice that
+      he stopped short. &ldquo;Mr. Molyneux, you seek strange company!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Madam,&rdquo; replied Molyneux, bowing deeply, as much to Beaucaire as to
+      herself, &ldquo;I am honored by the presence of both of you.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, are you mad!&rdquo; she exclaimed, contemptuously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This gentleman has exalted me with his confidence, madam,&rdquo; he replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Will you add your ruin to the scandal of this fellow's presence here? How
+      he obtained entrance&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon, mademoiselle,&rdquo; interrupted Beaucaire. &ldquo;Did I not say I should
+      come? M. Molyneux was so obliging as to answer for me to the fourteen
+      frien's of M. de Winterset and Meestaire Nash.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you not know,&rdquo; she turned vehemently upon Molyneux, &ldquo;that he will be
+      removed the moment I leave this room? Do you wish to be dragged out with
+      him? For your sake, sir, because I have always thought you a man of heart,
+      I give you a chance to save yourself from disgrace&mdash;and&mdash;your
+      companion from jail. Let him slip out by some retired way, and you may
+      give me your arm and we will enter the next room as if nothing had
+      happened. Come, sir&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Molyneux, I desire to hear nothing from your companion. Had I not
+      seen you at cards with him I should have supposed him in attendance as
+      your lackey. Do you desire to take advantage of my offer, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle, I could not tell you, on that night&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may inform your high-born friend, Mr. Molyneux, that I heard
+      everything he had to say; that my pride once had the pleasure of listening
+      to his high-born confession!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah, it is gentle to taunt one with his birth, mademoiselle? Ah, no! There
+      is a man in my country who say strange things of that&mdash;that a man is
+      not his father, but himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You may inform your friend, Mr. Molyneux, that he had a chance to defend
+      himself against accusation; that he said all&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That I did say all I could have strength to say. Mademoiselle, you did
+      not see&mdash;as it was right&mdash;that I had been stung by a big wasp.
+      It was nothing, a scratch; but, mademoiselle, the sky went round and the
+      moon dance' on the earth. I could not wish that big wasp to see he had
+      stung me; so I mus' only say what I can have strength for, and stand
+      straight till he is gone. Beside', there are other rizzons. Ah, you mus'
+      belief! My Molyneux I sen' for, and tell him all, because he show courtesy
+      to the yo'ng Frenchman, and I can trus' him. I trus' you, mademoiselle&mdash;long
+      ago&mdash;and would have tol' you ev'rything, excep' jus' because&mdash;well,
+      for the romance, the fon! You belief? It is so clearly so; you do belief,
+      mademoiselle?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      She did not even look at him. M. Beaucaire lifted his hand appealingly
+      toward her. &ldquo;Can there be no faith in&mdash;in&mdash;he said timidly, and
+      paused. She was silent, a statue, my Lady Disdain.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If you had not belief' me to be an impostor; if I had never said I was
+      Chateaurien; if I had been jus' that Monsieur Beaucaire of the story they
+      tol' you, but never with the heart of a lackey, an hones' man, a man, the
+      man you knew, himself, could you&mdash;would you&mdash;&rdquo; He was trying to
+      speak firmly; yet, as he gazed upon her splendid beauty, he choked
+      slightly, and fumbled in the lace at his throat with unsteady fingers.&mdash;&ldquo;Would
+      you&mdash;have let me ride by your side in the autumn moonlight?&rdquo; Her
+      glance passed by him as it might have passed by a footman or a piece of
+      furniture. He was dressed magnificently, a multitude of orders glittering
+      on his breast. Her eye took no knowledge of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mademoiselle-I have the honor to ask you: if you had known this Beaucaire
+      was hones', though of peasant birth, would you&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Involuntarily, controlled as her icy presence was, she shuddered. There
+      was a moment of silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Mr. Molyneux,&rdquo; said Lady Mary, &ldquo;in spite of your discourtesy in allowing
+      a servant to address me, I offer you a last chance to leave this room
+      undisgraced. Will you give me your arm?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me, madam,&rdquo; said Mr. Molyneux.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Beaucaire dropped into a chair with his head bent low and his arm
+      outstretched on the table; his eyes filled slowly in spite of himself, and
+      two tears rolled down the young man's cheeks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;An' live men are jus'&mdash;names!&rdquo; said M. Beaucaire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      Chapter Six
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      In the outer room, Winterset, unable to find Lady Mary, and supposing her
+      to have joined Lady Rellerton, disposed of his negus, then approached the
+      two visitors to pay his respects to the young prince, whom he discovered
+      to be a stripling of seventeen, arrogant looking, but pretty as a girl.
+      Standing beside the Marquis de Mirepoix&mdash;a man of quiet bearing&mdash;he
+      was surrounded by a group of the great, among whom Mr. Nash naturally
+      counted himself. The Beau was felicitating himself that the foreigners had
+      not arrived a week earlier, in which case he and Bath would have been
+      detected in a piece of gross ignorance concerning the French nobility&mdash;making
+      much of de Mirepoix's ex-barber.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;'Tis a lucky thing that fellow was got out of the way,&rdquo; he ejaculated,
+      under cover.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thank me for it,&rdquo; rejoined Winterset.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An attendant begged Mr. Nash's notice. The head bailiff sent word that
+      Beaucaire had long since entered the building by a side door. It was
+      supposed Mr. Nash had known of it, and the Frenchman was not arrested, as
+      Mr. Molyneux was in his company, and said he would be answerable for him.
+      Consternation was so plain on the Beau's trained face that the Duke leaned
+      toward him anxiously.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The villain's in, and Molyneux hath gone mad!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Mr. Bantison, who had been fiercely elbowing his way toward them, joined
+      heads with them. &ldquo;You may well say he is in,&rdquo; he exclaimed &ldquo;and if you
+      want to know where, why, in yonder card-room. I saw him through the
+      half-open door.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What's to be done?&rdquo; asked the Beau.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Send the bailiffs&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fie, fie! A file of bailiffs? The scandal!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then listen to me,&rdquo; said the Duke. &ldquo;I'll select half-a-dozen gentlemen,
+      explain the matter, and we'll put him in the center of us and take him out
+      to the bailiffs. 'Twill appear nothing. Do you remain here and keep the
+      attention of Beaujolais and de Mirepoix. Come, Bantison, fetch Townbrake
+      and Harry Rakell yonder; I'll bring the others.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Three minutes later, his Grace of Winterset flung wide the card-room door,
+      and, after his friends had entered, closed it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah!&rdquo; remarked M. Beaucaire quietly. &ldquo;Six more large men.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The Duke, seeing Lady Mary, started; but the angry signs of her interview
+      had not left her face, and reassured him. He offered his hand to conduct
+      her to the door. &ldquo;May I have the honor?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;If this is to be known, 'twill be better if I leave after; I should be
+      observed if I went now.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;As you will, madam,&rdquo; he answered, not displeased. &ldquo;And now, you impudent
+      villain,&rdquo; he began, turning to M. Beaucaire, but to fall back astounded.
+      &ldquo;'Od's blood, the dog hath murdered and robbed some royal prince!&rdquo; He
+      forgot Lady Mary's presence in his excitement. &ldquo;Lay hands on him!&rdquo; he
+      shouted. &ldquo;Tear those orders from him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Molyneux threw himself between. &ldquo;One word!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;One word before you
+      offer an outrage you will repent all your lives!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or let M. de Winterset come alone,&rdquo; laughed M. Beaucaire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you expect me to fight a cut-throat barber, and with bare hands?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I think one does not expec' monsieur to fight anybody. Would I fight you,
+      you think? That was why I had my servants, that evening we play. I would
+      gladly fight almos' any one in the won'; but I did not wish to soil my
+      hand with a&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Stuff his lying mouth with his orders!&rdquo; shouted the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Molyneux still held the gentlemen back. &ldquo;One moment,&rdquo; he cried.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;M. de Winterset,&rdquo; said Beaucaire, &ldquo;of what are you afraid? You calculate
+      well. Beaucaire might have been belief&mdash;an impostor that you yourself
+      expose'? Never! But I was not goin' reveal that secret. You have not
+      absolve me of my promise.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tell what you like,&rdquo; answered the Duke. &ldquo;Tell all the wild lies you have
+      time for. You have five minutes to make up your mind to go quietly.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you absolve me, then? Ha, ha! Oh, yes! Mademoiselle,&rdquo; he bowed to
+      Lady Mary, &ldquo;I have the honor to reques' you leave the room. You shall miss
+      no details if these frien's of yours kill me, on the honor of a French
+      gentleman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A French what?&rdquo; laughed Bantison.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do you dare keep up the pretense?&rdquo; cried Lord Town brake. &ldquo;Know, you
+      villain barber, that your master, the Marquis de Mirepoix, is in the next
+      room.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Molyneux heaved a great sigh of relief. &ldquo;Shall I&mdash;&rdquo; He turned to M.
+      Beaucaire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man laughed, and said: &ldquo;Tell him come here at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Impudent to the last!&rdquo; cried Bantison, as Molyneux hurried from the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Now you goin' to see M. Beaucaire's master,&rdquo; said Beaucaire to Lady Mary.
+      &ldquo;'Tis true what I say, the other night. I cross from Prance in his suite;
+      my passport say as his barber. Then to pass the ennui of exile, I come to
+      Bath and play for what one will. It kill the time. But when the people
+      hear I have been a servant they come only secretly; and there is one of
+      them&mdash;he has absolve' me of a promise not to speak&mdash;of him I
+      learn something he cannot wish to be tol'. I make some trouble to learn
+      this thing. Why I should do this? Well&mdash;that is my own rizzon. So I
+      make this man help me in a masque, the unmasking it was, for, as there is
+      no one to know me, I throw off my black wig and become myself&mdash;and so
+      I am 'Chateaurien,' Castle Nowhere. Then this man I use', this Winterset,
+      he&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have great need to deny these accusations?&rdquo; said the Duke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Nay,&rdquo; said Lady Mary wearily.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Shall I tell you why I mus' be 'Victor' and 'Beaucaire' and
+      'Chateaurien,' and not myself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To escape from the bailiffs for debts for razors and soap,&rdquo; gibed Lord
+      Townbrake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, monsieur. In France I have got a cousin who is a man with a very bad
+      temper at some time', and he will never enjoy his relatives to do what he
+      does not wish&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He was interrupted by a loud commotion from without. The door was flung
+      open, and the young Count of Beaujolais bounded in and threw his arms
+      about the neck of M. Beaucaire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Philippe!&rdquo; he cried. &ldquo;My brother, I have come to take you back with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      M. de Mirepoix followed him, bowing as a courtier, in deference; but M.
+      Beaucaire took both his hands heartily. Molyneux came after, with Mr.
+      Nash, and closed the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My warmest felicitations,&rdquo; said the Marquis. &ldquo;There is no longer need for
+      your incognito.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Thou best of masters!&rdquo; said Beaucaire, touching him fondly on the
+      shoulder. &ldquo;I know. Your courier came safely. And so I am forgiven! But I
+      forget.&rdquo; He turned to the lady. She had begun to tremble exceedingly.
+      &ldquo;Faires' of all the English fair,&rdquo; he said, as the gentlemen bowed low to
+      her deep courtesy, &ldquo;I beg the honor to presen' to Lady Mary Carlisle, M.
+      le Comte de Beaujolais. M. de Mirepoix has already the honor. Lady Mary
+      has been very kind to me, my frien's; you mus' help me make my
+      acknowledgment. Mademoiselle and gentlemen, will you give me that favour
+      to detain you one instan'?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henri,&rdquo; he turned to the young Beaujolais, &ldquo;I wish you had shared my
+      masque&mdash;I have been so gay!&rdquo; The surface of his tone was merry, but
+      there was an undercurrent, weary&mdash;sad, to speak of what was the mood,
+      not the manner. He made the effect of addressing every one present, but he
+      looked steadily at Lady Mary. Her eyes were fixed upon him, with a silent
+      and frightened fascination, and she trembled more and more. &ldquo;I am a great
+      actor, Henri. These gentlemen are yet scarce convince' I am not a lackey!
+      And I mus' tell you that I was jus' now to be expelled for having been a
+      barber!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, no!&rdquo; the ambassador cried out. &ldquo;He would not be content with me; he
+      would wander over a strange country.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ha, ha, my Mirepoix! And what is better, one evening I am oblige' to
+      fight some frien's of M. de Winterset there, and some ladies and cavaliers
+      look on, and they still think me a servant. Oh, I am a great actor! 'Tis
+      true there is not a peasant in France who would not have then known one
+      'born'; but they are wonderful, this English people, holding by an idea
+      once it is in their heads&mdash;a mos' worthy quality. But my good
+      Molyneux here, he had speak to me with courtesy, jus' because I am a man
+      an' jus' because he is always kind. (I have learn' that his
+      great-grandfather was a Frenchman.) So I sen' to him and tell him
+      ev'rything, and he gain admittance for me here to-night to await my
+      frien's.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was speaking to messieurs about my cousin, who will meddle in the
+      affair' of his relatives. Well, that gentleman, he make a marriage for me
+      with a good and accomplish' lady, very noble and very beautiful&mdash;and
+      amiable.&rdquo; (The young count at his elbow started slightly at this, but
+      immediately appeared to wrap himself in a mantle of solemn thought.)
+      &ldquo;Unfortunately, when my cousin arrange' so, I was a dolt, a little
+      blockhead; I swear to marry for myself and when I please, or never if I
+      like. That lady is all things charming and gentle, and, in truth, she is&mdash;very
+      much attach' to me&mdash;why should I not say it? I am so proud of it. She
+      is very faithful and forgiving and sweet; she would be the same, I think,
+      if I&mdash;were even&mdash;a lackey. But I? I was a dolt, a little
+      unsensible brute; I did not value such thing' then; I was too yo'ng, las'
+      June. So I say to my cousin, 'No, I make my own choosing!' 'Little fool,'
+      he answer, 'she is the one for you. Am I not wiser than you?' And he was
+      very angry, and, as he has influence in France, word come' that he will
+      get me put in Vincennes, so I mus' run away quick till his anger is gone.
+      My good frien' Mirepoix is jus' leaving for London; he take' many risk'
+      for my sake; his hairdresser die before he start', so I travel as that
+      poor barber. But my cousin is a man to be afraid of when he is angry, even
+      in England, and I mus' not get my Mirepoix in trouble. I mus' not be
+      discover' till my cousin is ready to laugh about it all and make it a
+      joke. And there may be spies; so I change my name again, and come to Bath
+      to amuse my retreat with a little gaming&mdash;I am always fond of that.
+      But three day' ago M. le Marquis send me a courier to say that my brother,
+      who know where I had run away, is come from France to say that my cousin
+      is appease'; he need me for his little theatre, the play cannot go on. I
+      do not need to espouse mademoiselle. All shall be forgiven if I return,
+      and my brother and M. de Mirepoix will meet me in Bath to felicitate.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is one more thing to say, that is all. I have said I learn' a
+      secret, and use it to make a man introduce me if I will not tell. He has
+      absolve' me of that promise. My frien's, I had not the wish to ruin that
+      man. I was not receive'; Meestaire Nash had reboff me; I had no other way
+      excep' to use this fellow. So I say, 'Take me to Lady Malbourne's ball as
+      &ldquo;Chateaurien.&rdquo;' I throw off my wig, and shave, and behol', I am M. le Duc
+      de Castle Nowhere. Ha, ha! You see?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man's manner suddenly changed. He became haughty, menacing. He
+      stretched out his arm, and pointed at Winterset. &ldquo;Now I am no 'Beaucaire,'
+      messieurs. I am a French gentleman. The man who introduce' me at the price
+      of his honor, and then betray' me to redeem it, is that coward, that
+      card-cheat there!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Winterset made a horrible effort to laugh. The gentlemen who surrounded
+      him fell away as from pestilence. &ldquo;A French gentleman!&rdquo; he sneered
+      savagely, and yet fearfully. &ldquo;I don't know who you are. Hide behind as
+      many toys and ribbons as you like; I'll know the name of the man who dares
+      bring such a charge!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sir!&rdquo; cried de Mirepoix sharply, advancing a step towards him; but he
+      checked himself at once. He made a low bow of state, first to the young
+      Frenchman, then to Lady Mary and the company. &ldquo;Permit me, Lady Mary and
+      gentlemen,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;to assume the honor of presenting you to His
+      Highness, Prince Louis-Philippe de Valois, Duke of Orleans, Duke of
+      Chartres, Duke of Nemours, Duke of Montpeti'sier, First Prince of the
+      Blood Royal, First Peer of France, Lieutenant-General of French Infantry,
+      Governor of Dauphine, Knight of the Golden Fleece, Grand Master of the
+      Order of Notre Dame, of Mount Carmel, and of St. Lazarus in Jerusalem; and
+      cousin to His most Christian Majesty, Louis the Fifteenth, King of
+      France.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Those are a few of my brother's names,&rdquo; whispered Henri of Beaujolais to
+      Molyneux. &ldquo;Old Mirepoix has the long breath, but it take' a strong man two
+      day' to say all of them. I can suppose this Winterset know' now who bring
+      the charge!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Castle Nowhere!&rdquo; gasped Beau Nash, falling back upon the burly prop of
+      Mr. Bantison's shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The Duke of Orleans will receive a message from me within the hour!&rdquo; said
+      Winterset, as he made his way to the door. His face was black with rage
+      and shame.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I tol' you that I would not soil my hand with you,&rdquo; answered the young
+      man. &ldquo;If you send a message no gentleman will bring it. Whoever shall bear
+      it will receive a little beating from Francois.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stepped to Lady Mary's side. Her head was bent low, her face averted.
+      She seemed to breathe with difficulty, and leaned heavily upon a chair.
+      &ldquo;Monseigneur,&rdquo; she faltered in a half whisper, &ldquo;can you&mdash;forgive me?
+      It is a bitter&mdash;mistake-I have made. Forgive.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive?&rdquo; he answered, and his voice was as broken as hers; but he went
+      on, more firmly: &ldquo;It is&mdash;nothing&mdash;less than nothing. There is&mdash;only
+      jus' one&mdash;in the&mdash;whole worl' who would not have treat' me the
+      way that you treat' me. It is to her that I am goin' to make reparation.
+      You know something, Henri? I am not goin' back only because the king
+      forgive' me. I am goin' to please him; I am goin' to espouse mademoiselle,
+      our cousin. My frien's, I ask your felicitations.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the king does not compel him!&rdquo; exclaimed young Henri.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Henri, you want to fight me?&rdquo; cried his brother sharply. &ldquo;Don' you think
+      the King of France is a wiser man than me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He offered his hand to Lady Mary. &ldquo;Mademoiselle is fatigue'. Will she
+      honor me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He walked with her to the door. Her hand fluttering faintly in his. From
+      somewhere about the garments of one of them a little cloud of faded
+      rose-leaves fell, and lay strewn on the floor behind them. He opened the
+      door, and the lights shone on a multitude of eager faces turned toward it.
+      There was a great hum of voices, and, over all, the fiddles wove a
+      wandering air, a sweet French song of the voyageur.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He bowed very low, as, with fixed and glistening eyes, Lady Mary Carlisle,
+      the Beauty of Bath, passed slowly by him and went out of the room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+
+
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+</pre>
+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/1983.txt b/1983.txt
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--- /dev/null
+++ b/1983.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,1937 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Monsieur Beaucaire
+
+Author: Booth Tarkington
+
+Release Date: February 25, 2006 [EBook #1983]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE
+
+
+by Booth Tarkington
+
+
+
+
+Chapter One
+
+
+The young Frenchman did very well what he had planned to do. His guess
+that the Duke would cheat proved good. As the unshod half-dozen figures
+that had been standing noiselessly in the entryway stole softly into the
+shadows of the chamber, he leaned across the table and smilingly plucked
+a card out of the big Englishman's sleeve.
+
+"Merci, M. le Duc!" he laughed, rising and stepping back from the table.
+
+The Englishman cried out, "It means the dirty work of silencing you with
+my bare hands!" and came at him.
+
+"Do not move," said M. Beaucaire, so sharply that the other paused.
+"Observe behind you."
+
+The Englishman turned, and saw what trap he had blundered into; then
+stood transfixed, impotent, alternately scarlet with rage and white
+with the vital shame of discovery. M. Beaucaire remarked, indicating the
+silent figures by a polite wave of the hand, "Is it not a compliment
+to monsieur that I procure six large men to subdue him? They are quite
+devote' to me, and monsieur is alone. Could it be that he did not wish
+even his lackeys to know he play with the yo'ng Frenchman who Meestaire
+Nash does not like in the pomp-room? Monsieur is unfortunate to have
+come on foot and alone to my apartment."
+
+The Duke's mouth foamed over with chaotic revilement. His captor
+smiled brightly, and made a slight gesture, as one who brushes aside
+a boisterous insect. With the same motion he quelled to stony quiet a
+resentful impetus of his servants toward the Englishman.
+
+"It's murder, is it, you carrion!" finished the Duke.
+
+M. Beaucaire lifted his shoulders in a mock shiver. "What words! No, no,
+no! No killing! A such word to a such host! No, no, not mur-r-der; only
+disgrace!" He laughed a clear, light laugh with a rising inflection,
+seeming to launch himself upon an adventurous quest for sympathy.
+
+"You little devilish scullion!" spat out the Duke.
+
+"Tut, tut! But I forget. Monsieur has pursue' his studies of deportment
+amongs' his fellow-countrymen.
+
+"Do you dream a soul in Bath will take your word that I--that I--"
+
+"That M. le Duc de Winterset had a card up his sleeve?"
+
+"You pitiful stroller, you stableboy, born in a stable--"
+
+"Is it not an honor to be born where monsieur must have been bred?"
+
+"You scurvy foot-boy, you greasy barber, you cutthroat groom--"
+
+"Overwhelm'!" The young man bowed with imperturbable elation. "M. le Duc
+appoint' me to all the office' of his househol'."
+
+"You mustachioed fool, there are not five people of quality in Bath will
+speak to you--"
+
+"No, monsieur, not on the parade; but how many come to play with me
+here? Because I will play always, night or day, for what one will, for
+any long, and always fair, monsieur."
+
+"You outrageous varlet! Every one knows you came to England as the
+French Ambassador's barber. What man of fashion will listen to you? Who
+will believe you?"
+
+"All people, monsieur. Do you think I have not calculate', that I shall
+make a failure of my little enterprise?"
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"Will monsieur not reseat himself?" M. Beaucaire made a low bow. "So. We
+must not be too tire' for Lady Malbourne's rout. Ha, ha! And you,
+Jean, Victor, and you others, retire; go in the hallway. Attend at the
+entrance, Francois. So; now we shall talk. Monsieur, I wish you to think
+very cool. Then listen; I will be briefly. It is that I am well known to
+be all, entire' hones'. Gamblist? Ah, yes; true and mos profitable;
+but fair, always fair; every one say that. Is it not so? Think of it.
+And--is there never a w'isper come to M. le Duc that not all people
+belief him to play always hones'? Ha, ha! Did it almos' be said to
+him las' year, after when he play' with Milor' Tappin'ford at the
+chocolate-house--"
+
+"You dirty scandal-monger!" the Duke burst out. "I'll--"
+
+"Monsieur, monsieur!" said the Frenchman. "It is a poor valor to insult
+a helpless captor. Can he retort upon his own victim? But it is for you
+to think of what I say. True, I am not reco'nize on the parade; that my
+frien's who come here do not present me to their ladies; that Meestaire
+Nash has reboff' me in the pomp-room; still, am I not known for being
+hones' and fair in my play, and will I not be belief, even I, when I
+lif' my voice and charge you aloud with what is already w'isper'? Think
+of it! You are a noble, and there will be some hang-dogs who might not
+fall away from you. Only such would be lef' to you. Do you want it tol'?
+And you can keep out of France, monsieur? I have lef' his service, but
+I have still the ear of M. de Mirepoix, and he know' I never lie. Not a
+gentleman will play you when you come to Paris."
+
+The Englishman's white lip showed a row of scarlet dots upon it. "How
+much do you want?" he said.
+
+The room rang with the gay laughter of Beaucaire. "I hol' your note' for
+seven-hunder' pound'. You can have them, monsieur. Why does a such great
+man come to play M. Beaucaire? Because no one else willin' to play M.
+le Duc--he cannot pay. Ha, ha! So he come' to good Monsieur Beaucaire.
+Money, ha, ha! What I want with money?"
+
+His Grace of Winterset's features were set awry to a sinister pattern.
+He sat glaring at his companion in a snarling silence.
+
+"Money? Pouf!" snapped the little gambler. "No, no, no! It is that M.
+le Duc, impoverish', somewhat in a bad odor as he is, yet command the
+entree any-where--onless I--Ha, ha! Eh, monsieur?"
+
+"Ha! You dare think to force me--"
+
+M. Beaucaire twirled the tip of his slender mustache around the end
+of his white forefinger. Then he said: "Monsieur and me goin' to Lady
+Malbourne's ball to-night--M. le Duc and me!"
+
+The Englishman roared, "Curse your impudence!"
+
+"Sit quiet. Oh, yes, that's all; we goin' together."
+
+"No!"
+
+"Certain. I make all my little plan'. 'Tis all arrange'." He paused, and
+then said gravely, "You goin' present me to Lady Mary Carlisle."
+
+The other laughed in utter scorn. "Lady Mary Carlisle, of all women
+alive, would be the first to prefer the devil to a man of no birth,
+barber."
+
+"'Tis all arrange'; have no fear; nobody question monsieur's You goin'
+take me to-night--"
+
+"No!"
+
+"Yes. And after--then I have the entree. Is it much I ask? This one
+little favor, and I never w'isper, never breathe that--it is to say, I
+am always forever silent of monsieur's misfortune."
+
+"You have the entree!" sneered the other. "Go to a lackeys' rout and
+dance with the kitchen maids. If I would, I could not present you to
+Bath society. I should have cartels from the fathers, brothers, and
+lovers of every wench and madam in the place, even I. You would be
+thrust from Lady Malbourne's door five minutes after you entered it."
+
+"No, no, no!"
+
+"Half the gentlemen in Bath have been here to play. They would know
+you, wouldn't they, fool? You've had thousands out of Bantison, Rakell,
+Guilford, and Townbrake. They would have you lashed by the grooms as
+your ugly deserts are. You to speak to Lady Mary Carlisle! 'Od's blood!
+You! Also, dolt, she would know you if you escaped the others. She stood
+within a yard of you when Nash expelled you the pump-room."
+
+M. Beaucaire flushed slightly. "You think I did not see?" he asked.
+
+"Do you dream that' because Winterset introduces a low fellow he will be
+tolerated--that Bath will receive a barber?"
+
+"I have the distinction to call monsieur's attention," replied the young
+man gayly, "I have renounce that profession."
+
+"Fool!"
+
+"I am now a man of honor!"
+
+"Faugh!"
+
+"A man of the parts," continued the the young Frenchman, "and of
+deportment; is it not so? Have you seen me of a fluster, or gross ever,
+or, what sall I say--bourgeois? Shall you be shame' for your guest'
+manner? No, no! And my appearance, is it of the people? Clearly, no. Do
+I not compare in taste of apparel with your yo'ng Englishman? Ha, ha! To
+be hope'. Ha, ha! So I am goin' talk with Lady Mary Carlisle."
+
+"Bah!" The Duke made a savage burlesque. "'Lady Mary Carlisle, may I
+assume the honor of presenting the barber of the Marquis de Mirepoix?'
+So, is it?"
+
+"No, monsieur," smiled the young man. "Quite not so. You shall have
+nothing to worry you, nothing in the worl'. I am goin' to assassinate my
+poor mustachio--also remove this horrible black peruke, and emerge in my
+own hair. Behol'!" He swept the heavy curled, mass from his head as he
+spoke, and his hair, coiled under the great wig, fell to his shoulders,
+and sparkled yellow in the candle-light. He tossed his head to shake the
+hair back from his cheeks. "When it is dress', I am transform nobody can
+know me; you shall observe. See how little I ask of you, how very little
+bit. No one shall reco'nize 'M. Beaucaire' or 'Victor.' Ha, ha! 'Tis all
+arrange'; you have nothing to fear."
+
+"Curse you," said the Duke, "do you think I'm going to be saddled with
+you wherever I go as long as you choose?"
+
+"A mistake. No. All I requi--All I beg--is this one evening. 'Tis all
+shall be necessary. After, I shall not need monsieur.
+
+"Take heed to yourself--after!" vouchsafed the Englishman between his
+teeth.
+
+"Conquered!" cried M. Beaucaire, and clapped his hands gleefully.
+"Conquered for the night! Aha, it ts riz'nable! I shall meet what
+you send--after. One cannot hope too much of your patience. It is but
+natural you should attemp' a little avengement for the rascal trap I
+was such a wicked fellow as to set for you. I shall meet some strange
+frien's of yours after to-night; not so? I must try to be not too much
+frighten'." He looked at the Duke curiously. "You want to know why I
+create this tragedy, why I am so unkind as to entrap monsieur?"
+
+His Grace of Winterset replied with a chill glance; a pulse in the
+nobleman's cheek beat less relentlessly; his eye raged not so bitterly;
+the steady purple of his own color was returning; his voice was less
+hoarse; he was regaining his habit. "'Tis ever the manner of the
+vulgar," he observed, "to wish to be seen with people of fashion."
+
+"Oh, no, no, no!" The Frenchman laughed. "'Tis not that. Am I not
+already one of these 'men of fashion'? I lack only the reputation of
+birth. Monsieur is goin' supply that. Ha, ha! I shall be noble from
+to-night. 'Victor,' the artis', is condemn' to death; his throat shall
+be cut with his own razor. 'M. Beaucaire--'" Here the young man sprang
+to his feet, caught up the black wig, clapped into it a dice-box
+from the table, and hurled it violently through the open door. "'M.
+Beaucaire' shall be choke' with his own dice-box. Who is the Phoenix to
+remain? What advantage have I not over other men of rank who are merely
+born to it? I may choose my own. No! Choose for me, monsieur. Shall I
+be chevalier, comte, vicomte, marquis, what? None. Out of compliment to
+monsieur can I wish to be anything he is not? No, no! I shall be M.
+le Duc, M. le Duc de--de Chateaurien. Ha, ha! You see? You are my
+confrere."
+
+M. Beaucaire trod a dainty step or two, waving his hand politely to the
+Duke, as though in invitation to join the celebration of his rank.
+The Englishman watched, his eye still and harsh, already gathering in
+craftiness. Beaucaire stopped suddenly. "But how I forget my age! I am
+twenty-three," he said, with a sigh. "I rejoice too much to be of the
+quality. It has been too great for me, and I had always belief' myself
+free of such ambition. I thought it was enough to behol' the opera
+without wishing to sing; but no, England have teach' me I have those
+vulgar desire'. Monsieur, I am goin' tell you a secret: the ladies of
+your country are very diff'runt than ours. One may adore the demoiselle,
+one must worship the lady of England. Our ladies have the--it is the
+beauty of youth; yours remain comely at thirty. Ours are flowers, yours
+are stars! See, I betray myself, I am so poor a patriot. And there is
+one among these stars--ah, yes, there is one--the poor Frenchman has
+observe' from his humble distance; even there he could bask in the
+glowing!" M. Beaucaire turned to the window, and looked out into the
+dark. He did not see the lights of the town. When he turned again, he
+had half forgotten his prisoner; other pictures were before him.
+
+"Ah, what radiance!" he cried. "Those people up over the sky, they want
+to show they wish the earth to be happy, so they smile, and make this
+lady. Gold-haired, an angel of heaven, and yet a Diana of the chase! I
+see her fly by me on her great horse one day; she touch' his mane with
+her fingers. I buy that clipping from the groom. I have it here with my
+dear brother's picture. Ah, you! Oh, yes, you laugh! What do you know!
+'Twas all I could get. But I have heard of the endeavor of M. le Duc to
+recoup his fortunes. This alliance shall fail. It is not the way--that
+heritage shall be safe' from him! It is you and me, monsieur! You can
+laugh! The war is open', and by me! There is one great step taken: until
+to-night there was nothing for you to ruin, to-morrow you have got a
+noble of France--your own protege--to besiege and sack. And you are
+to lose, because you think such ruin easy, and because you understand
+nothing--far less--of divinity. How could you know? You have not the
+fiber; the heart of a lady is a blank to you; you know nothing of the
+vibration. There are some words that were made only to tell of Lady
+Mary, for her alone--bellissima, divine, glorieuse! Ah, how I have
+watch' her! It is sad to me when I see her surround' by your yo'ng
+captains, your nobles, your rattles, your beaux--ha, ha!--and I mus'
+hol' far aloof. It is sad for me--but oh, jus' to watch her and to
+wonder! Strange it is, but I have almos' cry out with rapture at a look
+I have see' her give another man, so beautiful it was, so tender, so
+dazzling of the eyes and so mirthful of the lips. Ah, divine coquetry! A
+look for another, ah-i-me! for many others; and even to you, one day,
+a rose, while I--I, monsieur, could not even be so blessed as to be
+the groun' beneath her little shoe! But to-night, monsieur--ha,
+ha!--to-night, monsieur, you and me, two princes, M. le Duc de
+Winterset and M. le Duc de Chateaurien--ha, ha! you see?--we are goin'
+arm-in-arm to that ball, and I am goin' have one of those looks, I! And
+a rose! I! It is time. But ten minute', monsieur. I make my apology to
+keep you waitin' so long while I go in the nex' room and execute my poor
+mustachio--that will be my only murder for jus' this one evening--and
+inves' myself in white satin. Ha, ha! I shall be very gran', monsieur.
+Francois, send Louis to me; Victor, to order two chairs for monsieur and
+me; we are goin' out in the worl' to-right!"
+
+
+Chapter Two
+
+
+The chairmen swarmed in the street at Lady Malbourne's door, where the
+joyous vulgar fought with muddied footmen and tipsy link-boys for places
+of vantage whence to catch a glimpse of quality and of raiment at its
+utmost. Dawn was in the east, and the guests were departing. Singly or
+in pairs, glittering in finery, they came mincing down the steps, the
+ghost of the night's smirk fading to jadedness as they sought the dark
+recesses of their chairs. From within sounded the twang of fiddles still
+swinging manfully at it, and the windows were bright with the light of
+many candles. When the door was flung open to call the chair of Lady
+Mary Carlisle, there was an eager pressure of the throng to see.
+
+A small, fair gentleman in white satin came out upon the steps, turned
+and bowed before a lady who appeared in the doorway, a lady whose royal
+loveliness was given to view for a moment in that glowing frame. The
+crowd sent up a hearty English cheer for the Beauty of Bath.
+
+The gentleman smiled upon them delightedly. "What enchanting people!" he
+cried. "Why did I not know, so I might have shout' with them?" The
+lady noticed the people not at all; whereat, being pleased, the people
+cheered again. The gentleman offered her his hand; she made a slow
+courtesy; placed the tips of her fingers upon his own. "I am honored, M.
+de Chateaurien," she said.
+
+"No, no!" he cried earnestly. "Behol' a poor Frenchman whom emperors
+should envy." Then reverently and with the pride of his gallant office
+vibrant in every line of his slight figure, invested in white satin and
+very grand, as he had prophesied, M. le Duc de Chateaurien handed Lady
+Mary Carlisle down the steps, an achievement which had figured in the
+ambitions of seven other gentlemen during the evening.
+
+"Am I to be lef'in such onhappiness?" he said in a low voice. "That rose
+I have beg' for so long--"
+
+
+"Never!" said Lady Mary.
+
+"Ah, I do not deserve it, I know so well! But--"
+
+"Never!"
+
+"It is the greatness of my onworthiness that alone can claim your
+charity; let your kin' heart give this little red rose, this great alms,
+to the poor beggar."
+
+"Never!"
+
+She was seated in the chair. "Ah, give the rose," he whispered. Her
+beauty shone dazzlingly on him out of the dimness.
+
+"Never!" she flashed defiantly as she was closed in. "Never!"
+
+"Never!"
+
+The rose fell at his feet.
+
+
+"A rose lasts till morning," said a voice behind him.
+
+Turning, M. de Chateaurien looked beamingly upon the face of the Duke of
+Winterset.
+
+"'Tis already the daylight," he replied, pointing to the east.
+"Monsieur, was it not enough honor for you to han' out madame, the aunt
+of Lady Mary? Lady Rellerton retain much trace of beauty. 'Tis strange
+you did not appear more happy."
+
+"The rose is of an unlucky color, I think," observed the Duke.
+
+"The color of a blush, my brother."
+
+"Unlucky, I still maintain," said the other calmly.
+
+"The color of the veins of a Frenchman. Ha, ha!" cried the young man.
+"What price would be too high? A rose is a rose! A good-night, my
+brother, a good-night. I wish you dreams of roses, red roses, only
+beautiful red, red roses!"
+
+"Stay! Did you see the look she gave these street folk when they shouted
+for her? And how are you higher than they, when she knows? As high as
+yonder horse-boy!"
+
+"Red roses, my brother, only roses. I wish you dreams of red, red
+roses!"
+
+
+Chapter Three
+
+
+It was well agreed by the fashion of Bath that M. le Duc de Chateaurien
+was a person of sensibility and haut ton; that his retinue and equipage
+surpassed in elegance; that his person was exquisite, his manner
+engaging. In the company of gentlemen his ease was slightly tinged with
+graciousness (his single equal in Bath being his Grace of Winterset);
+but it was remarked that when he bowed over a lady's hand, his air
+bespoke only a gay and tender reverence.
+
+He was the idol of the dowagers within a week after his appearance;
+matrons warmed to him; young belles looked sweetly on him, while the
+gentlemen were won to admiration or envy. He was of prodigious wealth:
+old Mr. Bicksit, who dared not, for his fame's sake, fail to have seen
+all things, had visited Chateaurien under the present Duke's father,
+and descanted to the curious upon its grandeurs. The young noble had one
+fault, he was so poor a gambler. He cared nothing for the hazards of a
+die or the turn of a card. Gayly admitting that he had been born with no
+spirit of adventure in him, he was sure, he declared, that he failed of
+much happiness by his lack of taste in such matters.
+
+But he was not long wanting the occasion to prove his taste in the
+matter of handling a weapon. A certain led-captain, Rohrer by
+name, notorious, amongst other things, for bearing a dexterous and
+bloodthirsty blade, came to Bath post-haste, one night, and jostled
+heartily against him, in the pump-room on the following morning. M.
+de Chauteaurien bowed, and turned aside without offense, continuing a
+conversation with some gentlemen near by. Captain Rohrer jostled
+against him a second time. M. de Chateaurien looked him in the eye, and
+apologized pleasantly for being so much in the way. Thereupon Rohrer
+procured an introduction to him, and made some observations derogatory
+to the valor and virtue of the French. There was current a curious piece
+of gossip of the French court: a prince of the blood royal, grandson of
+the late Regent and second in the line of succession to the throne
+of France, had rebelled against the authority of Louis XV, who had
+commanded him to marry the Princess Henriette, cousin to both of them.
+The princess was reported to be openly devoted to the cousin who refused
+to accept her hand at the bidding of the king; and, as rumor ran, the
+prince's caprice elected in preference the discipline of Vincennes, to
+which retirement the furious king had consigned him. The story was the
+staple gossip of all polite Europe; and Captain Rohrer, having in his
+mind a purpose to make use of it in leading up to a statement that
+should be general to the damage of all Frenchwomen, and which a
+Frenchman might not pass over as he might a jog of the elbow, repeated
+it with garbled truths to make a scandal of a story which bore none on a
+plain relation.
+
+He did not reach his deduction. M. de Chateaurien, breaking into his
+narrative, addressed him very quietly. "Monsieur," he said, "none but
+swine deny the nobleness of that good and gentle lady, Mademoiselle la
+Princesse de Bourbon-Conti. Every Frenchman know' that her cousin is a
+bad rebel and ingrate, who had only honor and rispec' for her, but was
+so wilful he could not let even the king say, 'You shall marry here,
+you shall marry there.' My frien's," the young man turned to the others,
+"may I ask you to close roun' in a circle for one moment? It is clearly
+shown that the Duke of Orleans is a scurvy fellow, but not--" he wheeled
+about and touched Captain Rohrer on the brow with the back of his gloved
+hand--"but not so scurvy as thou, thou swine of the gutter!"
+
+Two hours later, with perfect ease, he ran Captain Rohrer through the
+left shoulder--after which he sent a basket of red roses to the Duke
+of Winterset. In a few days he had another captain to fight. This was
+a ruffling buck who had the astounding indiscretion to proclaim M.
+de Chateaurien an impostor. There was no Chateaurien, he swore. The
+Frenchman laughed in his face, and, at twilight of the same day, pinked
+him carefully through the right shoulder. It was not that he could
+not put aside the insult to himself, he declared to Mr. Molyneux,
+his second, and the few witnesses, as he handed his wet sword to his
+lackey--one of his station could not be insulted by a doubt of that
+station--but he fought in the quarrel of his friend Winterset. This
+rascal had asserted that M. le Duc had introduced an impostor. Could he
+overlook the insult to a friend, one to whom he owed his kind reception
+in Bath? Then, bending over his fallen adversary, he whispered: "Naughty
+man, tell your master find some better quarrel for the nex' he sen'
+agains' me."
+
+The conduct of M. de Chateaurien was pronounced admirable.
+
+There was no surprise when the young foreigner fell naturally into the
+long train of followers of the beautiful Lady Mary Carlisle, nor was
+there great astonishment that he should obtain marked favor in her eyes,
+shown so plainly that my Lord Townbrake, Sir Hugh Guilford, and the rich
+Squire Bantison, all of whom had followed her through three seasons,
+swore with rage, and his Grace of Winterset stalked from her aunt's
+house with black brows.
+
+Meeting the Duke there on the evening after his second encounter de
+Chateaurien smiled upon him brilliantly. "It was badly done; oh, so
+badly!" he whispered. "Can you afford to have me strip' of my mask by
+any but yourself? You, who introduce' me? They will say there is some
+bad scandal that I could force you to be my god-father. You mus' get the
+courage yourself."
+
+"I told you a rose had a short life," was the answer.
+
+"Oh, those roses! 'Tis the very greates' rizzon to gather each day
+a fresh one." He took a red bud from his breast for an instant, and
+touched it to his lips.
+
+"M. de Chateaurien!" It was Lady Mary's voice; she stood at a table
+where a vacant place had been left beside her. "M. de Chateaurien, we
+have been waiting very long for you."
+
+The Duke saw the look she did not know she gave the Frenchman, and he
+lost countenance for a moment.
+
+"We approach a climax, eh, monsieur?" said M. de Chateaurien.
+
+
+
+Chapter Four
+
+
+There fell a clear September night, when the moon was radiant over town
+and country, over cobbled streets and winding roads. From the fields the
+mists rose slowly, and the air was mild and fragrant, while distances
+were white and full of mystery. All of Bath that pretended to fashion or
+condition was present that evening at a fete at the house of a country
+gentleman of the neighborhood. When the stately junket was concluded, it
+was the pleasure of M. de Chateaurien to form one of the escort of Lady
+Mary's carriage for the return. As they took the road, Sir Hugh Guilford
+and Mr. Bantison, engaging in indistinct but vigorous remonstrance with
+Mr. Molyneux over some matter, fell fifty or more paces behind, where
+they continued to ride, keeping up their argument. Half a dozen other
+gallants rode in advance, muttering among themselves, or attended laxly
+upon Lady Mary's aunt on the other side of the coach, while the happy
+Frenchman was permitted to ride close to that adorable window which
+framed the fairest face in England.
+
+He sang for her a little French song, a song of the voyageur who dreamed
+of home. The lady, listening, looking up at the bright moon, felt a warm
+drop upon her cheek, and he saw the tears sparkling upon her lashes.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he whispered then, "I, too, have been a wanderer, but my
+dreams were not of France; no, I do not dream of that home, of that dear
+country. It is of a dearer country, a dream country--a country of gold
+and snow," he cried softly, looking it her white brow and the fair,
+lightly powdered hair above it. "Gold and snow, and the blue sky of a
+lady's eyes!"
+
+"I had thought the ladies of France were dark, sir.
+
+"Cruel! It is that she will not understan'! Have I speak of the ladies
+of France? No, no, no! It is of the faires' country; yes, 'tis a
+province of heaven, mademoiselle. Do I not renounce my allegiance to
+France? Oh, yes! I am subjec'--no, content to be slave--in the lan' of
+the blue sky, the gold, and the snow.
+
+"A very pretty figure," answered Lady Mary, her eyes downcast. "But does
+it not hint a notable experience in the making of such speeches?"
+
+"Tormentress! No. It prove only the inspiration it is to know you."
+
+"We English ladies hear plenty of the like sir; and we even grow
+brilliant enough to detect the assurance that lies beneath the
+courtesies of our own gallants."
+
+"Merci! I should believe so!" ejaculated M. de Chateaurien: but he
+smothered the words upon his lips.
+
+Her eyes were not lifted. She went on: "We come, in time, to believe
+that true feeling comes faltering forth, not glibly; that smoothness
+betokens the adept in the art, sir, rather than your true--your true--"
+She was herself faltering; more, blushing deeply, and halting to a full
+stop in terror of a word. There was a silence.
+
+"Your--true--lover," he said huskily. When he had said that word both
+trembled. She turned half away into the darkness of the coach.
+
+"I know what make' you to doubt me," he said, faltering himself, though
+it was not his art that prompted him. "They have tol' you the French
+do nothing always but make love, is it not so? Yes, you think I am like
+that. You think I am like that now!"
+
+She made no sign.
+
+"I suppose," he sighed, "I am unriz'nable; I would have the snow not so
+col'--for jus' me."
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"Turn to me," he said.
+
+The fragrance of the fields came to them, and from the distance the
+faint, clear note of a hunting-horn.
+
+"Turn to me."
+
+The lovely head was bent very low. Her little gloved hand lay upon the
+narrow window ledge. He laid his own gently upon it. The two hands were
+shaking like twin leaves in the breeze. Hers was not drawn away. After
+a pause, neither knew how long, he felt the warm fingers turn and clasp
+themselves tremulously about his own. At last she looked up bravely and
+met his eyes. The horn was wound again--nearer.
+
+"All the cold was gone from the snows--long ago," she said.
+
+"My beautiful!" he whispered; it was all he could say. "My beautiful!"
+But she clutched his arm, startled.
+
+"'Ware the road!" A wild halloo sounded ahead. The horn wound loudly.
+"'Ware the road!" There sprang up out of the night a flying thunder of
+hoof-beats. The gentlemen riding idly in front of the coach scattered to
+the hedge-sides; and, with drawn swords flashing in the moon, a party of
+horsemen charged down the highway, their cries blasting the night.
+
+"Barber! Kill the barber!" they screamed. "Barber! Kill the barber!"
+
+Beaucaire had but time to draw his sword when they were upon him.
+
+"A moi!" his voice rang out clearly as he rose in his stirrups. "A moi,
+Francois, Louis, Berquin! A moi, Francois!"
+
+The cavaliers came straight at him. He parried the thrust of the first,
+but the shock of collision hurled his horse against the side of the
+coach. "Sacred swine!" he cried bitterly. "To endanger a lady, to make
+this brawl in a lady's presence! Drive on!" he shouted.
+
+"No!" cried Lady Mary.
+
+The Frenchman's assailants were masked, but they were not highwaymen.
+"Barber! Barber!" they shouted hoarsely, and closed in on him in a
+circle.
+
+"See how he use his steel!" laughed M. Beaucaire, as his point passed
+through a tawdry waistcoat. For a moment he cut through the ring and
+cleared a space about him, and Lady Mary saw his face shining in the
+moonlight. "Canaille!" he hissed, as his horse sank beneath him; and,
+though guarding his head from the rain of blows from above, he managed
+to drag headlong from his saddle the man who had hamstrung the poor
+brute. The fellow came suddenly to the ground, and lay there.
+
+"Is it not a compliment," said a heavy voice, "to bring six large men to
+subdue monsieur?"
+
+"Oh, you are there, my frien'! In the rear--a little in the rear, I
+think. Ha, ha!"
+
+The Frenchman's play with his weapon was a revelation of skill, the more
+extraordinary as he held in his hand only a light dress sword. But the
+ring closed about him, and his keen defense could not avail him for more
+than a few moments. Lady Mary's outriders, the gallants of her escort,
+rode up close to the coach and encircled it, not interfering.
+
+"Sir Hugh Guilford!" cried Lady Mary wildly, "if you will not help him,
+give me your sword!" She would have leaped to the ground, but Sir Hugh
+held the door.
+
+"Sit quiet, madam," he said to her; then, to the man on the box, "Drive
+on."
+
+"If he does, I'll kill him!" she said fiercely. "Ah, what cowards! Will
+you see the Duke murdered?"
+
+"The Duke!" laughed Guilford. "They will not kill him, unless--be easy,
+dear madam, 'twill be explained. Gad's life!" he muttered to Molyneux,
+"'Twere time the varlet had his lashing! D'ye hear her?"
+
+"Barber or no barber," answered Molyneux, "I wish I had warned him. He
+fights as few gentlemen could. Ah--ah! Look at that! 'Tis a shame!"
+
+On foot, his hat gone, his white coat sadly rent and gashed, flecked,
+too, with red, M. Beaucaire, wary, alert, brilliant, seemed to transform
+himself into a dozen fencing-masters; and, though his skill appeared
+to lie in delicacy and quickness, his play being continually with
+the point, sheer strength failed to beat him down. The young man was
+laughing like a child.
+
+"Believe me," said Molyneux "he's no barber! No, and never was!"
+
+For a moment there was even a chance that M. Beaucaire might have the
+best of it. Two of his adversaries were prostrate, more than one were
+groaning, and the indomitable Frenchman had actually almost beat off the
+ruffians, when, by a trick, he was overcome. One of them, dismounting,
+ran in suddenly from behind, and seized his blade in a thick leather
+gauntlet. Before Beaucaire could disengage the weapon, two others threw
+themselves from their horses and hurled him to the earth. "A moi! A moi,
+Francois!" he cried as he went down, his sword in fragments, but his
+voice unbroken and clear.
+
+"Shame!" muttered one or two of the gentlemen about the coach.
+
+"'Twas dastardly to take him so," said Molyneux. "Whatever his
+deservings, I'm nigh of a mind to offer him a rescue in the Duke's
+face."
+
+"Truss him up, lads," said the heavy voice. "Clear the way in front of
+the coach. There sit those whom we avenge upon a presumptuous lackey.
+Now, Whiffen, you have a fair audience, lay on and baste him."
+
+Two men began to drag M. Beaucaire toward a great oak by the roadside.
+Another took from his saddle a heavy whip with three thongs.
+
+"A moi, Francois!"
+
+There was borne on the breeze an answer--"Monseigneur! Monseigneur!"
+The cry grew louder suddenly. The clatter of hoofs urged to an anguish
+of speed sounded on the night. M. Beaucaire's servants had lagged sorely
+behind, but they made up for it now. Almost before the noise of their
+own steeds they came riding down the moonlit aisle between the mists.
+Chosen men, these servants of Beaucaire, and like a thunderbolt they
+fell upon the astounded cavaliers.
+
+"Chateaurien! Chateaurien!" they shouted, and smote so swiftly that,
+through lack of time, they showed no proper judgment, discriminating
+nothing between non-combatants and their master's foes. They charged
+first into the group about M. Beaucaire, and broke and routed it
+utterly. Two of them leaped to the young man's side, while the other
+four, swerving, scarce losing the momentum of their onset, bore on upon
+the gentlemen near the coach, who went down beneath the fierceness of
+the onslaught, cursing manfully.
+
+"Our just deserts," said Mr. Molyneux, his mouth full of dust and
+philosophy.
+
+Sir Hugh Guilford's horse fell with him, being literally ridden over,
+and the baronet's leg was pinned under the saddle. In less than ten
+minutes from the first attack on M. Beaucaire, the attacking party
+had fled in disorder, and the patrician non-combatants, choking with
+expletives, consumed with wrath, were prisoners, disarmed by the
+Frenchman's lackeys.
+
+Guilford's discomfiture had freed the doors of the coach; so it was that
+when M. Beaucaire, struggling to rise, assisted by his servants, threw
+out one hand to balance himself, he found it seized between two small,
+cold palms, and he looked into two warm, dilating eyes, that were doubly
+beautiful because of the fright and rage that found room in them, too.
+
+M. le Duc Chateaurien sprang to his feet without the aid of his lackeys,
+and bowed low before Lady Mary.
+
+"I make ten thousan' apology to be' the cause of a such melee in your
+presence," he said; and then, turning to Francois, he spoke in French:
+"Ah, thou scoundrel! A little, and it had been too late."
+
+Francois knelt in the dust before him. "Pardon!" he said. "Monseigneur
+commanded us to follow far in the rear, to remain unobserved. The wind
+malignantly blew against monseigneur's voice."
+
+"See what it might have cost, my children," said his master, pointing
+to the ropes with which they would have bound him and to the whip lying
+beside them. A shudder passed over the lackey's frame; the utter horror
+in his face echoed in the eyes of his fellows.
+
+"Oh, monseigneur!" Francois sprang back, and tossed his arms to heaven.
+
+"But it did not happen," said M. Beaucaire.
+
+"It could not!" exclaimed Francois.
+
+"No. And you did very well, my children--" the young man smiled
+benevolently--"very well. And now," he continued, turning to Lady Mary
+and speaking in English, "let me be asking of our gallants yonder what
+make' them to be in cabal with highwaymen. One should come to a polite
+understanding with them, you think? Not so?"
+
+He bowed, offering his hand to conduct her to the coach, where Molyneux
+and his companions, having drawn Sir Hugh from under his horse, were
+engaged in reviving and reassuring Lady Rellerton, who had fainted. But
+Lady Mary stayed Beaucaire with a gesture, and the two stood where they
+were.
+
+"Monseigneur!" she said, with a note of raillery in her voice, but
+raillery so tender that he started with happiness. His movement brought
+him a hot spasm of pain, and he clapped his hand to a red stain on his
+waistcoat.
+
+"You are hurt!"
+
+"It is nothing," smiled M. Beaucaire. Then, that she might not see
+the stain spreading, he held his handkerchief over the spot. "I am a
+little--but jus' a trifling--bruise'; 'tis all."
+
+"You shall ride in the coach," she whispered. "Will you be pleased, M.
+de Chateaurien?"
+
+"Ah, my beautiful!" She seemed to wave before him like a shining
+mist. "I wish that ride might las' for always! Can you say that,
+mademoiselle?"
+
+"Monseigneur," she cried in a passion of admiration, "I would what you
+would have be, should be. What do you not deserve? You are the bravest
+man in the world!"
+
+"Ha, ha! I am jus' a poor Frenchman."
+
+"Would that a few Englishmen had shown themselves as 'poor' tonight.
+The vile cowards, not to help you!" With that, suddenly possessed by her
+anger, she swept away from him to the coach.
+
+Sir Hugh, groaning loudly, was being assisted into the vehicle.
+
+"My little poltroons," she said, "what are you doing with your
+fellow-craven, Sir Hugh Guilford, there?"
+
+"Madam," replied Molyneux humbly, "Sir Hugh's leg is broken. Lady
+Rellerton graciously permits him to be taken in."
+
+"I do not permit it! M. de Chateaurien rides with us."
+
+"But--"
+
+"Sir! Leave the wretch to groan by the roadside," she cried fiercely,
+"which plight I would were that of all of you! But there will be a
+pretty story for the gossips to-morrow! And I could almost find pity
+for you when I think of the wits when you return to town. Fine gentlemen
+you; hardy bravos, by heaven! to leave one man to meet a troop of horse
+single-handed, while you huddle in shelter until you are overthrown and
+disarmed by servants! Oh, the wits! Heaven save you from the wits!"
+
+"Madam."
+
+"Address me no more! M. de Chateaurien, Lady Rellerton and I will
+greatly esteem the honor of your company. Will you come?"
+
+She stepped quickly into the coach, and was gathering her skirts to make
+room for the Frenchman, when a heavy voice spoke from the shadows of the
+tree by the wayside.
+
+"Lady Mary Carlisle will, no doubt, listen to a word of counsel on this
+point."
+
+The Duke of Winterset rode out into the moonlight, composedly untieing a
+mask from about his head. He had not shared the flight of his followers,
+but had retired into the shade of the oak, whence he now made his
+presence known with the utmost coolness.
+
+"Gracious heavens, 'tis Winterset!" exclaimed Lady Rellerton.
+
+"Turned highwayman and cut-throat," cried Lady Mary.
+
+"No, no," laughed M. Beaucaire, somewhat unsteadily, as he stood,
+swaying a little, with one hand on the coach-door, the other pressed
+hard on his side, "he only oversee'; he is jus' a little bashful,
+sometime'. He is a great man, but he don' want all the glory!"
+
+"Barber," replied the Duke, "I must tell you that I gladly descend to
+bandy words with you; your monstrous impudence is a claim to rank
+I cannot ignore. But a lackey who has himself followed by six other
+lackeys--"
+
+"Ha, ha! Has not M. le Duc been busy all this evening to justify me? And
+I think mine mus' be the bes' six. Ha, ha! You think?"
+
+"M. de Chateaurien," said Lady Mary, "we are waiting for you."
+
+"Pardon," he replied. "He has something to say; maybe it is bes' if you
+hear it now."
+
+"I wish to hear nothing from him--ever!"
+
+"My faith, madam," cried the Duke, "this saucy fellow has paid you the
+last insult! He is so sure of you he does not fear you will believe the
+truth. When all is told, if you do not agree he deserved the lashing we
+planned to--"
+
+"I'll hear no more!"
+
+"You will bitterly repent it, madam. For your own sake I entreat--"
+
+"And I also," broke in M. Beaucaire. "Permit me, mademoiselle; let him
+speak."
+
+"Then let him be brief," said Lady Mary, "for I am earnest to be quit of
+him. His explanation or an attack on my friend and on my carriage should
+be made to my brother."
+
+"Alas that he was not here," said the Duke, "to aid me! Madam, was your
+carriage threatened? I have endeavored only to expunge a debt I owed to
+Bath and to avenge an insult offered to yourself through--"
+
+"Sir, sir, my patience will bear little more!"
+
+"A thousan' apology," said M. Beaucaire. "You will listen, I only beg,
+Lady Mary?"
+
+She made an angry gesture of assent.
+
+"Madam, I will be brief as I may. Two months ago there came to Bath a
+French gambler calling himself Beaucaire, a desperate fellow with the
+cards or dice, and all the men of fashion went to play at his lodging,
+where he won considerable sums. He was small, wore a black wig and
+mustachio. He had the insolence to show himself everywhere until the
+Master of Ceremonies rebuffed him in the pump-room, as you know, and
+after that he forbore his visits to the rooms. Mr. Nash explained (and
+was confirmed, madam, by indubitable information) that this Beaucaire
+was a man of unspeakable, vile, low birth, being, in fact, no other than
+a lackey of the French king's ambassador, Victor by name, de Mirepoix's
+barber. Although his condition was known, the hideous impudence of the
+fellow did not desert him, and he remained in Bath, where none would
+speak to him."
+
+"Is your farrago nigh done, sir?"
+
+"A few moments, madam. One evening, three weeks gone, I observed a very
+elegant equipage draw up to my door, and the Duke of Chateaurien was
+announced. The young man's manners were worthy--according to the French
+acceptance--and 'twere idle to deny him the most monstrous assurance. He
+declared himself a noble traveling for pleasure. He had taken lodgings
+in Bath for a season, he said, and called at once to pay his respects
+to me. His tone was so candid--in truth, I am the simplest of men, very
+easily gulled--and his stroke so bold, that I did not for one moment
+suspect him; and, to my poignant regret--though in the humblest spirit
+I have shown myself eager to atone--that very evening I had the shame of
+presenting him to yourself."
+
+"The shame, sir!"
+
+"Have patience, pray, madam. Ay, the shame! You know what figure he hath
+cut in Bath since that evening. All ran merrily with him until several
+days ago Captain Badger denounced him as an impostor, vowing that
+Chateaurien was nothing."
+
+"Pardon," interrupted M. Beaucaire. "'Castle Nowhere' would have been so
+much better. Why did you not make him say it that way, monsieur?"
+
+Lady Mary started; she was looking at the Duke, and her face was white.
+He continued: "Poor Captain Badger was stabbed that same day.--"
+
+"Most befitting poor Captain Badger," muttered Molyneux.
+
+"----And his adversary had the marvelous insolence to declare that he
+fought in my quarrel! This afternoon the wounded man sent for me, and
+imparted a very horrifying intelligence. He had discovered a lackey whom
+he had seen waiting upon Beaucaire in attendance at the door of
+this Chateaurien's lodging. Beaucaire had disappeared the day before
+Chateaurien's arrival. Captain Badger looked closely at Chateaurien at
+their next meeting, and identified him with the missing Beaucaire beyond
+the faintest doubt. Overcome with indignation, he immediately proclaimed
+the impostor. Out of regard for me, he did not charge him with being
+Beaucaire; the poor soul was unwilling to put upon me the humiliation of
+having introduced a barber; but the secret weighed upon him till he sent
+for me and put everything in my hands. I accepted the odium; thinking
+only of atonement. I went to Sir John Wimpledon's. I took poor Sir
+Hugh, there, and these other gentlemen aside, and told them my news. We
+narrowly observed this man, and were shocked at our simplicity in not
+having discovered him before. These are men of honor and cool judgment,
+madam. Mr. Molyneux had acted for him in the affair of Captain Badger,
+and was strongly prejudiced in his favor; but Mr. Molyneux, Sir Hugh,
+Mr. Bantison, every one of them, in short, recognized him. In spite of
+his smooth face and his light hair, the adventurer Beaucaire was
+writ upon him amazing plain. Look at him, madam, if he will dare the
+inspection. You saw this Beaucaire well, the day of his expulsion from
+the rooms. Is not this he?"
+
+M. Beaucaire stepped close to her. Her pale face twitched.
+
+"Look!" he said.
+
+"Oh, oh!" she whispered with a dry throat, and fell back in the
+carriage.
+
+"Is it so?" cried the Duke.
+
+"I do not know.--I--cannot tell."
+
+"One moment more. I begged these gentlemen to allow me to wipe out the
+insult I had unhappily offered to Bath, but particularly to you. They
+agreed not to forestall me or to interfere. I left Sir John Wimpledon's
+early, and arranged to give the sorry rascal a lashing under your own
+eyes, a satisfaction due the lady into whose presence he had dared to
+force himself."
+
+"'Noblesse oblige'?" said M. Beaucaire in a tone of gentle inquiry.
+
+"And now, madam," said the Duke, "I will detain you not one second
+longer. I plead the good purpose of my intentions, begging you to
+believe that the desire to avenge a hateful outrage, next to the wish to
+serve you, forms the dearest motive in the heart of Winterset."
+
+"Bravo!" cried Beaucaire softly.
+
+Lady Mary leaned toward him, a thriving terror in her eyes. "It is
+false?" she faltered.
+
+"Monsieur should not have been born so high. He could have made little
+book'."
+
+"You mean it is false?" she cried breathlessly.
+
+"'Od's blood, is she not convinced?" broke out Mr. Bantison. "Fellow,
+were you not the ambassador's barber?"
+
+"It is all false?" she whispered.
+
+"The mos' fine art, mademoiselle. How long you think it take M. de
+Winterset to learn that speech after he write it out? It is a mix of
+what is true and the mos' chaste art. Monsieur has become a man of
+letters. Perhaps he may enjoy that more than the wars. Ha, ha!"
+
+Mr. Bantison burst into a roar of laughter. "Do French gentlemen
+fight lackeys? Ho, ho, ho! A pretty country! We English do as was done
+to-night, have our servants beat them."
+
+"And attend ourselves," added M. Beaucaire, looking at the Duke,
+"somewhat in the background? But, pardon," he mocked, "that remind' me.
+Francois, return to Mr. Bantison and these gentlemen their weapons."
+
+"Will you answer a question?" said Molyneux mildly.
+
+"Oh, with pleasure, monsieur."
+
+"Were you ever a barber?"
+
+"No, monsieur," laughed the young man.
+
+"Pah!" exclaimed Bantison. "Let me question him. Now, fellow, a
+confession may save you from jail. Do you deny you are Beaucaire?"
+
+"Deny to a such judge?"
+
+"Ha!" said Bantison. "What more do you want, Molyneux? Fellow, do you
+deny that you came to London in the ambassador's suite?"
+
+"No, I do not deny."
+
+"He admits it! Didn't you come as his barber?"
+
+"Yes, my frien', as his barber." Lady Mary cried out faintly, and,
+shuddering, put both hands over her eyes.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Molyneux. "You fight like a gentleman."
+
+"I thank you, monsieur."
+
+"You called yourself Beaucaire?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur." He was swaying to and fro; his servants ran to support
+him.
+
+"I wish--" continued Molyneux, hesitating. "Evil take me!--but I'm
+sorry you're hurt."
+
+"Assist Sir Hugh into my carriage," said Lady Mary.
+
+"Farewell, mademoiselle!" M. Beaucaire's voice was very faint. His eyes
+were fixed upon her face. She did not look toward him.
+
+They were propping Sir Hugh on the cushions. The Duke rode up close to
+Beaucaire, but Francois seized his bridle fiercely, and forced the horse
+back on its haunches.
+
+"The man's servants worship him," said Molyneux.
+
+"Curse your insolence!" exclaimed the Duke. "How much am I to bear from
+this varlet and his varlets? Beaucaire, if you have not left Bath by
+to-morrow noon, you will be clapped into jail, and the lashing you
+escaped to-night shall be given you thrice tenfold!"
+
+"I shall be-in the--Assemily--Room' at nine--o'clock, one week
+--from--to-night," answered the young man, smiling jauntily, though
+his lips were colorless. The words cost him nearly all his breath and
+strength. "You mus' keep--in the--backgroun', monsieur. Ha, ha!" The
+door of the coach closed with a slam.
+
+"Mademoiselle--fare--well!"
+
+"Drive on!" said Lady Mary.
+
+M. Beaucaire followed the carriage with his eyes. As the noise of the
+wheels and the hoof-beats of the accompanying cavalcade grew fainter in
+the distance, the handkerchief he had held against his side dropped into
+the white dust, a heavy red splotch.
+
+"Only--roses," he gasped, and fell back in the arms of his servants.
+
+
+Chapter Five
+
+
+Beau Nash stood at the door of the rooms, smiling blandly upon a dainty
+throng in the pink of its finery and gay furbelows. The great exquisite
+bent his body constantly in a series of consummately adjusted bows:
+before a great dowager, seeming to sweep the floor in august deference;
+somewhat stately to the young bucks; greeting the wits with gracious
+friendliness and a twinkle of raillery; inclining with fatherly
+gallantry before the beauties; the degree of his inclination measured
+the altitude of the recipient as accurately as a nicely calculated
+sand-glass measures the hours.
+
+The King of Bath was happy, for wit, beauty, fashion--to speak more
+concretely: nobles, belles, gamesters, beaux, statesmen, and poets
+--made fairyland (or opera bouffe, at least) in his dominions; play ran
+higher and higher, and Mr. Nash's coffers filled up with gold. To
+crown his pleasure, a prince of the French blood, the young Comte de
+Beaujolais, just arrived from Paris, had reached Bath at noon in state,
+accompanied by the Marquis de Mirepoix, the ambassador of Louis XV. The
+Beau dearly prized the society of the lofty, and the present visit was
+an honor to Bath: hence to the Master of Ceremonies. What was better,
+there would be some profitable hours with the cards and dice. So it was
+that Mr. Nash smiled never more benignly than on that bright evening.
+The rooms rang with the silvery voices of women and delightful laughter,
+while the fiddles went merrily, their melodies chiming sweetly with the
+joyance of his mood.
+
+The skill and brazen effrontery of the ambassador's scoundrelly servant
+in passing himself off for a man of condition formed the point of
+departure for every conversation. It was discovered that there were but
+three persons present who had not suspected him from the first; and, by
+a singular paradox, the most astute of all proved to be old Mr. Bicksit,
+the traveler, once a visitor at Chateaurien; for he, according to
+report, had by a coup of diplomacy entrapped the impostor into an
+admission that there was no such place. However, like poor Captain
+Badger, the worthy old man had held his peace out of regard for the Duke
+of Winterset. This nobleman, heretofore secretly disliked, suspected
+of irregular devices at play, and never admired, had won admiration and
+popularity by his remorse for the mistake, and by the modesty of his
+attitude in endeavoring to atone for it, without presuming upon the
+privilege of his rank to laugh at the indignation of society; an action
+the more praiseworthy because his exposure of the impostor entailed the
+disclosure of his own culpability in having stood the villain's sponsor.
+To-night, the happy gentleman, with Lady Mary Carlisle upon his arm,
+went grandly about the rooms, sowing and reaping a harvest of smiles.
+'Twas said work would be begun at once to rebuild the Duke's country
+seat, while several ruined Jews might be paid out of prison. People
+gazing on the beauty and the stately but modest hero by her side, said
+they would make a noble pair. She had long been distinguished by his
+attentions, and he had come brilliantly out of the episode of the
+Frenchman, who had been his only real rival. Wherever they went, there
+arose a buzz of pleasing gossip and adulation. Mr. Nash, seeing them
+near him, came forward with greetings. A word on the side passed between
+the nobleman and the exquisite.
+
+"I had news of the rascal tonight," whispered Nash. "He lay at a farm
+till yesterday, when he disappeared; his ruffians, too."
+
+"You have arranged?" asked the Duke.
+
+"Fourteen bailiffs are watching without. He could not come within
+gunshot. If they clap eyes on him, they will hustle him to jail, and his
+cutthroats shall not avail him a hair's weight. The impertinent swore
+he'd be here by nine, did he?"
+
+"He said so; and 'tis a rash dog, sir."
+
+"It is just nine now."
+
+"Send out to see if they have taken him."
+
+"Gladly."
+
+The Beau beckoned an attendant, and whispered in his ear.
+
+Many of the crowd had edged up to the two gentlemen with apparent
+carelessness, to overhear their conversation. Those who did overhear
+repeated it in covert asides, and this circulating undertone, confirming
+a vague rumor that Beaucaire would attempt the entrance that night, lent
+a pleasurable color of excitement to the evening. The French prince, the
+ambassador, and their suites were announced. Polite as the assembly
+was, it was also curious, and there occurred a mannerly rush to see the
+newcomers. Lady Mary, already pale, grew whiter as the throng closed
+round her; she looked up pathetically at the Duke, who lost no time in
+extricating her from the pressure.
+
+"Wait here," he said; "I will fetch you a glass of negus," and
+disappeared. He had not thought to bring a chair, and she, looking about
+with an increasing faintness and finding none, saw that she was standing
+by the door of a small side-room. The crowd swerved back for the passage
+of the legate of France, and pressed upon her. She opened the door, and
+went in.
+
+The room was empty save for two gentlemen, who were quietly playing
+cards at a table. They looked up as she entered. They were M. Beaucaire
+and Mr. Molyneux.
+
+She uttered a quick cry and leaned against the wall, her hand to her
+breast. Beaucaire, though white and weak, had brought her a chair before
+Molyneux could stir.
+
+"Mademoiselle--"
+
+"Do not touch me!" she said, with such frozen abhorrence in her voice
+that he stopped short. "Mr. Molyneux, you seek strange company!"
+
+"Madam," replied Molyneux, bowing deeply, as much to Beaucaire as to
+herself, "I am honored by the presence of both of you.
+
+"Oh, are you mad!" she exclaimed, contemptuously.
+
+"This gentleman has exalted me with his confidence, madam," he replied.
+
+"Will you add your ruin to the scandal of this fellow's presence here?
+How he obtained entrance--"
+
+"Pardon, mademoiselle," interrupted Beaucaire. "Did I not say I should
+come? M. Molyneux was so obliging as to answer for me to the fourteen
+frien's of M. de Winterset and Meestaire Nash."
+
+"Do you not know," she turned vehemently upon Molyneux, "that he will be
+removed the moment I leave this room? Do you wish to be dragged out
+with him? For your sake, sir, because I have always thought you a man
+of heart, I give you a chance to save yourself from disgrace--and--your
+companion from jail. Let him slip out by some retired way, and you
+may give me your arm and we will enter the next room as if nothing had
+happened. Come, sir--"
+
+"Mademoiselle--"
+
+"Mr. Molyneux, I desire to hear nothing from your companion. Had I not
+seen you at cards with him I should have supposed him in attendance as
+your lackey. Do you desire to take advantage of my offer, sir?"
+
+"Mademoiselle, I could not tell you, on that night--"
+
+"You may inform your high-born friend, Mr. Molyneux, that I heard
+everything he had to say; that my pride once had the pleasure of
+listening to his high-born confession!"
+
+"Ah, it is gentle to taunt one with his birth, mademoiselle? Ah, no!
+There is a man in my country who say strange things of that--that a man
+is not his father, but himself."
+
+"You may inform your friend, Mr. Molyneux, that he had a chance to
+defend himself against accusation; that he said all--"
+
+"That I did say all I could have strength to say. Mademoiselle, you did
+not see--as it was right--that I had been stung by a big wasp. It was
+nothing, a scratch; but, mademoiselle, the sky went round and the moon
+dance' on the earth. I could not wish that big wasp to see he had stung
+me; so I mus' only say what I can have strength for, and stand straight
+till he is gone. Beside', there are other rizzons. Ah, you mus' belief!
+My Molyneux I sen' for, and tell him all, because he show courtesy
+to the yo'ng Frenchman, and I can trus' him. I trus' you,
+mademoiselle--long ago--and would have tol' you ev'rything, excep' jus'
+because--well, for the romance, the fon! You belief? It is so clearly
+so; you do belief, mademoiselle?"
+
+She did not even look at him. M. Beaucaire lifted his hand appealingly
+toward her. "Can there be no faith in--in--he said timidly, and paused.
+She was silent, a statue, my Lady Disdain.
+
+"If you had not belief' me to be an impostor; if I had never said I was
+Chateaurien; if I had been jus' that Monsieur Beaucaire of the story
+they tol' you, but never with the heart of a lackey, an hones' man, a
+man, the man you knew, himself, could you--would you--" He was trying
+to speak firmly; yet, as he gazed upon her splendid beauty, he
+choked slightly, and fumbled in the lace at his throat with unsteady
+fingers.--"Would you--have let me ride by your side in the autumn
+moonlight?" Her glance passed by him as it might have passed by a
+footman or a piece of furniture. He was dressed magnificently, a
+multitude of orders glittering on his breast. Her eye took no knowledge
+of him.
+
+"Mademoiselle-I have the honor to ask you: if you had known this
+Beaucaire was hones', though of peasant birth, would you--"
+
+Involuntarily, controlled as her icy presence was, she shuddered. There
+was a moment of silence.
+
+"Mr. Molyneux," said Lady Mary, "in spite of your discourtesy in
+allowing a servant to address me, I offer you a last chance to leave
+this room undisgraced. Will you give me your arm?"
+
+"Pardon me, madam," said Mr. Molyneux.
+
+Beaucaire dropped into a chair with his head bent low and his arm
+outstretched on the table; his eyes filled slowly in spite of himself,
+and two tears rolled down the young man's cheeks.
+
+"An' live men are jus'--names!" said M. Beaucaire.
+
+
+
+Chapter Six
+
+
+In the outer room, Winterset, unable to find Lady Mary, and supposing
+her to have joined Lady Rellerton, disposed of his negus, then
+approached the two visitors to pay his respects to the young prince,
+whom he discovered to be a stripling of seventeen, arrogant looking,
+but pretty as a girl. Standing beside the Marquis de Mirepoix--a man of
+quiet bearing--he was surrounded by a group of the great, among whom Mr.
+Nash naturally counted himself. The Beau was felicitating himself that
+the foreigners had not arrived a week earlier, in which case he and Bath
+would have been detected in a piece of gross ignorance concerning the
+French nobility--making much of de Mirepoix's ex-barber.
+
+"'Tis a lucky thing that fellow was got out of the way," he ejaculated,
+under cover.
+
+"Thank me for it," rejoined Winterset.
+
+An attendant begged Mr. Nash's notice. The head bailiff sent word that
+Beaucaire had long since entered the building by a side door. It was
+supposed Mr. Nash had known of it, and the Frenchman was not arrested,
+as Mr. Molyneux was in his company, and said he would be answerable for
+him. Consternation was so plain on the Beau's trained face that the Duke
+leaned toward him anxiously.
+
+"The villain's in, and Molyneux hath gone mad!"
+
+Mr. Bantison, who had been fiercely elbowing his way toward them, joined
+heads with them. "You may well say he is in," he exclaimed "and if you
+want to know where, why, in yonder card-room. I saw him through the
+half-open door."
+
+"What's to be done?" asked the Beau.
+
+"Send the bailiffs--"
+
+"Fie, fie! A file of bailiffs? The scandal!"
+
+"Then listen to me," said the Duke. "I'll select half-a-dozen gentlemen,
+explain the matter, and we'll put him in the center of us and take him
+out to the bailiffs. 'Twill appear nothing. Do you remain here and
+keep the attention of Beaujolais and de Mirepoix. Come, Bantison, fetch
+Townbrake and Harry Rakell yonder; I'll bring the others."
+
+Three minutes later, his Grace of Winterset flung wide the card-room
+door, and, after his friends had entered, closed it.
+
+"Ah!" remarked M. Beaucaire quietly. "Six more large men."
+
+The Duke, seeing Lady Mary, started; but the angry signs of her
+interview had not left her face, and reassured him. He offered his hand
+to conduct her to the door. "May I have the honor?"
+
+"If this is to be known, 'twill be better if I leave after; I should be
+observed if I went now."
+
+"As you will, madam," he answered, not displeased. "And now, you
+impudent villain," he began, turning to M. Beaucaire, but to fall back
+astounded. "'Od's blood, the dog hath murdered and robbed some royal
+prince!" He forgot Lady Mary's presence in his excitement. "Lay hands on
+him!" he shouted. "Tear those orders from him!"
+
+Molyneux threw himself between. "One word!" he cried. "One word before
+you offer an outrage you will repent all your lives!"
+
+"Or let M. de Winterset come alone," laughed M. Beaucaire.
+
+"Do you expect me to fight a cut-throat barber, and with bare hands?"
+
+"I think one does not expec' monsieur to fight anybody. Would I fight
+you, you think? That was why I had my servants, that evening we play.
+I would gladly fight almos' any one in the won'; but I did not wish to
+soil my hand with a--"
+
+"Stuff his lying mouth with his orders!" shouted the Duke.
+
+But Molyneux still held the gentlemen back. "One moment," he cried.
+
+"M. de Winterset," said Beaucaire, "of what are you afraid? You
+calculate well. Beaucaire might have been belief--an impostor that you
+yourself expose'? Never! But I was not goin' reveal that secret. You
+have not absolve me of my promise."
+
+"Tell what you like," answered the Duke. "Tell all the wild lies
+you have time for. You have five minutes to make up your mind to go
+quietly."
+
+"Now you absolve me, then? Ha, ha! Oh, yes! Mademoiselle," he bowed to
+Lady Mary, "I have the honor to reques' you leave the room. You shall
+miss no details if these frien's of yours kill me, on the honor of a
+French gentleman."
+
+"A French what?" laughed Bantison.
+
+"Do you dare keep up the pretense?" cried Lord Town brake. "Know, you
+villain barber, that your master, the Marquis de Mirepoix, is in the
+next room."
+
+Molyneux heaved a great sigh of relief. "Shall I--" He turned to M.
+Beaucaire.
+
+The young man laughed, and said: "Tell him come here at once.
+
+"Impudent to the last!" cried Bantison, as Molyneux hurried from the
+room.
+
+"Now you goin' to see M. Beaucaire's master," said Beaucaire to Lady
+Mary. "'Tis true what I say, the other night. I cross from Prance in his
+suite; my passport say as his barber. Then to pass the ennui of exile, I
+come to Bath and play for what one will. It kill the time. But when the
+people hear I have been a servant they come only secretly; and there
+is one of them--he has absolve' me of a promise not to speak--of him I
+learn something he cannot wish to be tol'. I make some trouble to learn
+this thing. Why I should do this? Well--that is my own rizzon. So I make
+this man help me in a masque, the unmasking it was, for, as there is no
+one to know me, I throw off my black wig and become myself--and so I
+am 'Chateaurien,' Castle Nowhere. Then this man I use', this Winterset,
+he--"
+
+"I have great need to deny these accusations?" said the Duke.
+
+"Nay," said Lady Mary wearily.
+
+"Shall I tell you why I mus' be 'Victor' and 'Beaucaire' and
+'Chateaurien,' and not myself?"
+
+"To escape from the bailiffs for debts for razors and soap," gibed Lord
+Townbrake.
+
+"No, monsieur. In France I have got a cousin who is a man with a very
+bad temper at some time', and he will never enjoy his relatives to do
+what he does not wish--"
+
+He was interrupted by a loud commotion from without. The door was flung
+open, and the young Count of Beaujolais bounded in and threw his arms
+about the neck of M. Beaucaire.
+
+"Philippe!" he cried. "My brother, I have come to take you back with
+me."
+
+M. de Mirepoix followed him, bowing as a courtier, in deference; but M.
+Beaucaire took both his hands heartily. Molyneux came after, with Mr.
+Nash, and closed the door.
+
+"My warmest felicitations," said the Marquis. "There is no longer need
+for your incognito."
+
+"Thou best of masters!" said Beaucaire, touching him fondly on the
+shoulder. "I know. Your courier came safely. And so I am forgiven! But
+I forget." He turned to the lady. She had begun to tremble exceedingly.
+"Faires' of all the English fair," he said, as the gentlemen bowed low
+to her deep courtesy, "I beg the honor to presen' to Lady Mary Carlisle,
+M. le Comte de Beaujolais. M. de Mirepoix has already the honor. Lady
+Mary has been very kind to me, my frien's; you mus' help me make my
+acknowledgment. Mademoiselle and gentlemen, will you give me that favour
+to detain you one instan'?"
+
+"Henri," he turned to the young Beaujolais, "I wish you had shared my
+masque--I have been so gay!" The surface of his tone was merry, but
+there was an undercurrent, weary--sad, to speak of what was the mood,
+not the manner. He made the effect of addressing every one present, but
+he looked steadily at Lady Mary. Her eyes were fixed upon him, with a
+silent and frightened fascination, and she trembled more and more. "I am
+a great actor, Henri. These gentlemen are yet scarce convince' I am not
+a lackey! And I mus' tell you that I was jus' now to be expelled for
+having been a barber!"
+
+"Oh, no!" the ambassador cried out. "He would not be content with me;
+he would wander over a strange country."
+
+"Ha, ha, my Mirepoix! And what is better, one evening I am oblige'
+to fight some frien's of M. de Winterset there, and some ladies and
+cavaliers look on, and they still think me a servant. Oh, I am a great
+actor! 'Tis true there is not a peasant in France who would not have
+then known one 'born'; but they are wonderful, this English people,
+holding by an idea once it is in their heads--a mos' worthy quality. But
+my good Molyneux here, he had speak to me with courtesy, jus' because
+I am a man an' jus' because he is always kind. (I have learn' that
+his great-grandfather was a Frenchman.) So I sen' to him and tell him
+ev'rything, and he gain admittance for me here to-night to await my
+frien's.
+
+"I was speaking to messieurs about my cousin, who will meddle in the
+affair' of his relatives. Well, that gentleman, he make a marriage for
+me with a good and accomplish' lady, very noble and very beautiful--and
+amiable." (The young count at his elbow started slightly at this, but
+immediately appeared to wrap himself in a mantle of solemn thought.)
+"Unfortunately, when my cousin arrange' so, I was a dolt, a little
+blockhead; I swear to marry for myself and when I please, or never if
+I like. That lady is all things charming and gentle, and, in truth, she
+is--very much attach' to me--why should I not say it? I am so proud of
+it. She is very faithful and forgiving and sweet; she would be the
+same, I think, if I--were even--a lackey. But I? I was a dolt, a little
+unsensible brute; I did not value such thing' then; I was too yo'ng,
+las' June. So I say to my cousin, 'No, I make my own choosing!' 'Little
+fool,' he answer, 'she is the one for you. Am I not wiser than you?' And
+he was very angry, and, as he has influence in France, word come' that
+he will get me put in Vincennes, so I mus' run away quick till his anger
+is gone. My good frien' Mirepoix is jus' leaving for London; he take'
+many risk' for my sake; his hairdresser die before he start', so I
+travel as that poor barber. But my cousin is a man to be afraid of when
+he is angry, even in England, and I mus' not get my Mirepoix in trouble.
+I mus' not be discover' till my cousin is ready to laugh about it all
+and make it a joke. And there may be spies; so I change my name again,
+and come to Bath to amuse my retreat with a little gaming--I am always
+fond of that. But three day' ago M. le Marquis send me a courier to say
+that my brother, who know where I had run away, is come from France to
+say that my cousin is appease'; he need me for his little theatre, the
+play cannot go on. I do not need to espouse mademoiselle. All shall be
+forgiven if I return, and my brother and M. de Mirepoix will meet me in
+Bath to felicitate.
+
+"There is one more thing to say, that is all. I have said I learn' a
+secret, and use it to make a man introduce me if I will not tell. He has
+absolve' me of that promise. My frien's, I had not the wish to ruin that
+man. I was not receive'; Meestaire Nash had reboff me; I had no other
+way excep' to use this fellow. So I say, 'Take me to Lady Malbourne's
+ball as "Chateaurien."' I throw off my wig, and shave, and behol', I am
+M. le Duc de Castle Nowhere. Ha, ha! You see?"
+
+The young man's manner suddenly changed. He became haughty, menacing.
+He stretched out his arm, and pointed at Winterset. "Now I am no
+'Beaucaire,' messieurs. I am a French gentleman. The man who introduce'
+me at the price of his honor, and then betray' me to redeem it, is that
+coward, that card-cheat there!"
+
+Winterset made a horrible effort to laugh. The gentlemen who surrounded
+him fell away as from pestilence. "A French gentleman!" he sneered
+savagely, and yet fearfully. "I don't know who you are. Hide behind as
+many toys and ribbons as you like; I'll know the name of the man who
+dares bring such a charge!"
+
+"Sir!" cried de Mirepoix sharply, advancing a step towards him; but he
+checked himself at once. He made a low bow of state, first to the young
+Frenchman, then to Lady Mary and the company. "Permit me, Lady Mary
+and gentlemen," he said, "to assume the honor of presenting you to His
+Highness, Prince Louis-Philippe de Valois, Duke of Orleans, Duke of
+Chartres, Duke of Nemours, Duke of Montpeti'sier, First Prince of
+the Blood Royal, First Peer of France, Lieutenant-General of French
+Infantry, Governor of Dauphine, Knight of the Golden Fleece, Grand
+Master of the Order of Notre Dame, of Mount Carmel, and of St. Lazarus
+in Jerusalem; and cousin to His most Christian Majesty, Louis the
+Fifteenth, King of France."
+
+"Those are a few of my brother's names," whispered Henri of Beaujolais
+to Molyneux. "Old Mirepoix has the long breath, but it take' a strong
+man two day' to say all of them. I can suppose this Winterset know' now
+who bring the charge!"
+
+"Castle Nowhere!" gasped Beau Nash, falling back upon the burly prop of
+Mr. Bantison's shoulder.
+
+"The Duke of Orleans will receive a message from me within the hour!"
+said Winterset, as he made his way to the door. His face was black with
+rage and shame.
+
+"I tol' you that I would not soil my hand with you," answered the young
+man. "If you send a message no gentleman will bring it. Whoever shall
+bear it will receive a little beating from Francois."
+
+He stepped to Lady Mary's side. Her head was bent low, her face averted.
+She seemed to breathe with difficulty, and leaned heavily upon a chair.
+"Monseigneur," she faltered in a half whisper, "can you--forgive me? It
+is a bitter--mistake-I have made. Forgive."
+
+"Forgive?" he answered, and his voice was as broken as hers; but he went
+on, more firmly: "It is--nothing--less than nothing. There is--only jus'
+one--in the--whole worl' who would not have treat' me the way that you
+treat' me. It is to her that I am goin' to make reparation. You know
+something, Henri? I am not goin' back only because the king forgive'
+me. I am goin' to please him; I am goin' to espouse mademoiselle, our
+cousin. My frien's, I ask your felicitations."
+
+"And the king does not compel him!" exclaimed young Henri.
+
+"Henri, you want to fight me?" cried his brother sharply. "Don' you
+think the King of France is a wiser man than me?"
+
+He offered his hand to Lady Mary. "Mademoiselle is fatigue'. Will she
+honor me?"
+
+He walked with her to the door. Her hand fluttering faintly in his.
+From somewhere about the garments of one of them a little cloud of faded
+rose-leaves fell, and lay strewn on the floor behind them. He opened the
+door, and the lights shone on a multitude of eager faces turned toward
+it. There was a great hum of voices, and, over all, the fiddles wove a
+wandering air, a sweet French song of the voyageur.
+
+He bowed very low, as, with fixed and glistening eyes, Lady Mary
+Carlisle, the Beauty of Bath, passed slowly by him and went out of the
+room.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR BEAUCAIRE ***
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diff --git a/old/mbeau10.txt b/old/mbeau10.txt
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+Project Gutenberg Etext Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
+#8 in our series by Booth Tarkington
+
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+Monsieur Beaucaire
+
+by Booth Tarkington
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+December, 1999  [Etext #1983]
+
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+Project Gutenberg Etext Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
+*****This file should be named mbeau10.txt or mbeau10.zip******
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+
+
+
+This Etext prepared by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer.
+
+
+
+
+
+Monsieur Beaucaire
+
+by Booth Tarkington
+
+
+
+
+Chapter One
+
+
+The young Frenchman did very well what he had planned to do.   His
+guess that the Duke would cheat proved good.   As the unshod
+half-dozen figures that had been standing noiselessly in the
+entryway stole softly into the shadows of the chamber, he leaned
+across the table and smilingly plucked a card out of the big
+Englishman's sleeve.
+
+"Merci, M. le Duc!" he laughed, rising and stepping back from
+the table.
+
+The Englishman cried out, "It means the dirty work of silencing
+you with my bare hands!" and came at him.
+
+"Do not move," said M. Beaucaire, so sharply that the other paused.
+"Observe behind you."
+
+The Englishman turned, and saw what trap he had blundered into;
+then stood transfixed, impotent, alternately scarlet with rage and
+white with the vital shame of discovery.  M. Beaucaire remarked,
+indicating the silent figures by a polite wave of the hand, "Is it
+not a compliment to monsieur that I procure six large men to subdue
+him?  They are quite devote' to me, and monsieur is alone.  Could
+it be that he did not wish even his lackeys to know he play with the
+yo'ng Frenchman who Meestaire Nash does not like in the pomp-room?
+Monsieur is unfortunate to have come on foot and alone to my
+apartment."
+
+The Duke's mouth foamed over with chaotic revilement.  His captor
+smiled brightly, and made a slight gesture, as one who brushes aside
+a boisterous insect.  With the same motion he quelled to stony quiet
+a resentful impetus of his servants toward the Englishman.
+
+"It's murder, is it, you carrion!" finished the Duke.
+
+M. Beaucaire lifted his shoulders in a mock shiver.  "What words!
+No, no, no!  No killing!  A such word to a such host!  No, no, not
+mur-r-der; only disgrace!"  He laughed a clear, light laugh with a
+rising inflection, seeming to launch himself upon an adventurous
+quest for sympathy.
+
+"You little devilish scullion!" spat out the Duke.
+
+"Tut, tut!  But I forget.  Monsieur has pursue' his studies of
+deportment amongs' his fellow-countrymen.
+
+"Do you dream a soul in Bath will take your word that I - that I - "
+
+"That M. le Duc de Winterset had a card up his sleeve?"
+
+"You pitiful stroller, you stableboy, born in a stable - "
+
+"Is it not an honor to be born where monsieur must have been bred?"
+
+"You scurvy foot-boy, you greasy barber, you cutthroat groom - "
+
+"Overwhelm'!" The young man bowed with imperturbable elation.  "M.
+le Duc appoint' me to all the office' of his househol'."
+
+"You mustachioed fool, there are not five people of quality in Bath
+will speak to you - "
+
+"No, monsieur, not on the parade; but how many come to play with me
+here?  Because I will play always, night or day, for what one will,
+for any long, and al - ways fair, monsieur."
+
+"You outrageous varlet!  Every one knows you came to England as the
+French Ambassador's barber.  What man of fashion will listen to you?
+Who will believe you?"
+
+"All people, monsieur.  Do you think I have not calculate', that I
+shall make a failure of my little enterprise?"
+
+"Bah!"
+
+"Will monsieur not reseat himself?"  M. Beaucaire made a low bow.
+"So.  We must not be too tire' for Lady Malbourne's rout.  Ha, ha!
+And you, Jean, Victor, and you others, retire; go in the hallway.
+Attend at the entrance, Francois.  So; now we shall talk.  Monsieur,
+I wish you to think very cool.  Then listen; I will be briefly.  It
+is that I am well known to be all, entire' hones'.  Gamblist?  Ah,
+yes; true and mos profitable; but fair, al - ways fair; every one say
+that.  Is it not so?  Think of it.  And - is there never a w'isper
+come to M. le Duc that not all people belief him to play al - ways
+hones'?  Ha, ha!  Did it almos' be said to him las' year, after when
+he play' with Milor' Tappin'ford at the chocolate-house - "
+
+"You dirty scandal-monger!" the Duke burst out.  "I'll - "
+
+"Monsieur, monsieur!" said the Frenchman.  "It is a poor valor to
+insult a helpless captor.  Can he retort upon his own victim?  But
+it is for you to think of what I say.  True, I am not reco'nize on
+the parade; that my frien's who come here do not present me to their
+ladies; that Meestaire Nash has reboff' me in the pomp-room; still,
+am I not known for being hones' and fair in my play, and will I not
+be belief, even I, when I lif' my voice and charge you aloud with
+what is already w'isper'?  Think of it!  You are a noble, and there
+will be some hang-dogs who might not fall away from you.  Only such
+would be lef' to you.  Do you want it tol'?  And you can keep out
+of France, monsieur?  I have lef' his service, but I have still the
+ear of M. de Mirepoix, and he know' I never lie. Not a gentleman
+will play you when you come to Paris."
+
+The Englishman's white lip showed a row of scarlet dots upon it.
+"How much do you want?" he said.
+
+The room rang with the gay laughter of Beaucaire.  "I hol' your
+note' for seven-hunder' pound'.  You can have them, monsieur.  Why
+does a such great man come to play M. Beaucaire?  Because no one
+else willin' to play M. le Duc - he cannot pay.  Ha, ha!  So he
+come' to good Monsieur Beaucaire.  Money, ha, ha!  What I want with
+money?"
+
+His Grace of Winterset's features were set awry to a sinister
+pattern.  He sat glaring at his companion in a snarling silence.
+
+"Money?  Pouf!" snapped the little gambler.  "No, no, no!  It is
+that M. le Duc, impoverish', somewhat in a bad odor as he is, yet
+command the entree any-where - onless I - Ha, ha!  Eh, monsieur?"
+
+"Ha!  You dare think to force me - "
+
+M. Beaucaire twirled the tip of his slender mustache around the end
+of his white forefinger.  Then he said: "Monsieur and me goin' to
+Lady Malbourne's ball to-night - M. le Duc and me!"
+
+The Englishman roared, "Curse your impudence!"
+
+"Sit quiet.  Oh, yes, that's all; we goin' together."
+
+"No!"
+
+"Certain.  I make all my little plan'.  'Tis all arrange'."  He
+paused, and then said gravely, "You goin' present me to Lady
+Mary Carlisle."
+
+The other laughed in utter scorn.  "Lady Mary Carlisle, of all
+women alive, would be the first to prefer the devil to a man of
+no birth, barber."
+
+"'Tis all arrange'; have no fear; nobody question monsieur's
+You goin' take me to-night - "
+
+"No!"
+
+"Yes.  And after - then I have the entree.  Is it much I ask?
+This one little favor, and I never w'isper, never breathe that
+ - it is to say, I am always forever silent of monsieur's
+misfortune."
+
+"You have the entree!" sneered the other.  "Go to a lackeys' rout
+and dance with the kitchen maids.  If I would, I could not present
+you to Bath society.  I should have cartels from the fathers,
+brothers, and lovers of every wench and madam in the place, even I.
+You would be thrust from Lady Malbourne's door five minutes after
+you entered it."
+
+"No, no, no!"
+
+"Half the gentlemen in Bath have been here to play.  They would
+know you, wouldn't they, fool?  You've had thousands out of
+Bantison, Rakell, Guilford, and Townbrake.  They would have you
+lashed by the grooms as your ugly deserts are.  You to speak to
+Lady Mary Carlisle!  'Od's blood!  You!  Also, dolt, she would
+know you if you escaped the others.  She stood within a yard of
+you when Nash expelled you the pump-room."
+
+M. Beaucaire flushed slightly.  "You think I did not see?" he
+asked.
+
+"Do you dream that' because Winterset introduces a low fellow he
+will be tolerated - that Bath will receive a barber?"
+
+"I have the distinction to call monsieur's attention," replied the
+young man gayly, "I have renounce that profession."
+
+"Fool!"
+
+"I am now a man of honor!"
+
+"Faugh!"
+
+"A man of the parts," continued the the young Frenchman, "and of
+deportment; is it not so?  Have you seen me of a fluster, or
+gross ever, or, what sall I say - bourgeois?  Shall you be shame'
+for your guest' manner?  No, no!  And my appearance, is it of the
+people?  Clearly, no.  Do I not compare in taste of apparel with
+your yo'ng Englishman?  Ha, ha!  To be hope'.  Ha, ha!  So I am
+goin' talk with Lady Mary Carlisle."
+
+"Bah!" The Duke made a savage burlesque.  "'Lady Mary Carlisle,
+may I assume the honor of presenting the barber of the Marquis de
+Mirepoix?' So, is it?"
+
+"No, monsieur," smiled the young man.  "Quite not so.  You shall
+have nothing to worry you, nothing in the worl'.  I am goin' to
+assassinate my poor mustachio - also remove this horrible black
+peruke, and emerge in my own hair.  Behol'!"  He swept the heavy
+curled, mass from his head as he spoke, and his hair, coiled
+under the great wig, fell to his shoulders, and sparkled yellow
+in the candle-light.  He tossed his head to shake the hair back
+from his cheeks.  "When it is dress', I am transform nobody can
+know me; you shall observe.  See how little I ask of you, how
+very little bit.  No one shall reco'nize 'M. Beaucaire' or
+'Victor.'  Ha, ha!  'Tis all arrange'; you have nothing to fear."
+
+"Curse you," said the Duke, "do you think I'm going to be saddled
+with you wherever I go as long as you choose?"
+
+"A mistake.  No.  All I requi -  All I beg - is this one evening.
+'Tis all shall be necessary.  After, I shall not need monsieur.
+
+"Take heed to yourself - after!" vouchsafed the Englishman between
+his teeth.
+
+"Conquered!" cried M. Beaucaire, and clapped his hands gleefully.
+"Conquered for the night!  Aha, it ts riz'nable!  I shall meet what
+you send - after.  One cannot hope too much of your patience.  It
+is but natural you should attemp' a little avengement for the
+rascal trap I was such a wicked fellow as to set for you.  I shall
+meet some strange frien's of yours after to-night; not so?  I must
+try to be not too much frighten'."  He looked at the Duke curiously.
+"You want to know why I create this tragedy, why I am so unkind as
+to entrap monsieur?"
+
+His Grace of Winterset replied with a chill glance; a pulse in the
+nobleman's cheek beat less relentlessly; his eye raged not so
+bitterly; the steady purple of his own color was returning; his
+voice was less hoarse; he was regaining his habit.  "'Tis ever the
+manner of the vulgar," he observed, "to wish to be seen with
+people of fashion."
+
+"Oh, no, no, no!" The Frenchman laughed.  "'Tis not that.  Am I not
+already one of these 'men of fashion'?  I lack only the reputation
+of birth.  Monsieur is goin' supply that.  Ha, ha!  I shall be noble
+from to-night.  'Victor,' the artis', is condemn' to death; his
+throat shall be cut with his own razor.  'M. Beaucaire  - '  Here
+the young man sprang to his feet, caught up the black wig, clapped
+into it a dice-box from the table, and hurled it violently through
+the open door.  "'M. Beaucaire' shall be choke' with his own
+dice-box.  Who is the Phoenix to remain?  What advantage have I
+not over other men of rank who are merely born to it?  I may choose
+my own.  No!  Choose for me, monsieur.  Shall I be chevalier, comte,
+vicomte, marquis, what?  None.  Out of compliment to monsieur can
+I wish to be anything he is not?  No, no!  I shall be M. le Duc,
+M. le Duc de - de Chateaurien.  Ha, ha!  You see?  You are my
+confrere."
+
+M. Beaucaire trod a dainty step or two, waving his hand politely to
+the Duke, as though in invitation to join the celebration of his
+rank.  The Englishman watched, his eye still and harsh, already
+gathering in craftiness.  Beaucaire stopped suddenly.  "But how I
+forget my age!  I am twenty-three," he said, with a sigh.  "I
+rejoice too much to be of the quality.  It has been too great for
+me, and I had always belief' myself free of such ambition.  I
+thought it was enough to behol' the opera without wishing to sing;
+but no, England have teach' me I have those vulgar desire'.
+Monsieur, I am goin' tell you a secret: the ladies of your country
+are very diff'runt than ours.  One may adore the demoiselle, one
+must worship the lady of England.  Our ladies have the - it is the
+beauty of youth; yours remain comely at thirty.  Ours are flowers,
+yours are stars!  See, I betray myself, I am so poor a patriot.
+And there is one among these stars - ah, yes, there is one - the
+poor Frenchman has observe' from his humble distance; even there he
+could bask in the glowing!" M. Beaucaire turned to the window, and
+looked out into the dark.  He did not see the lights of the town.
+When he turned again, he had half forgotten his prisoner; other
+pictures were before him.
+
+"Ah, what radiance!" he cried.  "Those people up over the sky, they
+want to show they wish the earth to be happy, so they smile, and
+make this lady.  Gold-haired, an angel of heaven, and yet a Diana
+of the chase!  I see her fly by me on her great horse one day; she
+touch' his mane with her fingers.  I buy that clipping from the
+groom. I have it here with my dear brother's picture.  Ah, you!
+Oh, yes, you laugh!  What do you know!  'Twas all I could get.  But
+I have heard of the endeavor of M. le Duc to recoup his fortunes.
+This alliance shall fail.  It is not the way - that heritage shall
+be safe' from him!  It is you and me, monsieur!  You can laugh!
+The war is open', and by me!  There is one great step taken: until
+to-night there was nothing for you to ruin, to-morrow you have got
+a noble of France - your own protege - to besiege and sack.  And
+you are to lose, because you think such ruin easy, and because
+you understand nothing - far less - of divinity.  How could you
+know?  You have not the fiber; the heart of a lady is a blank to
+you; you know nothing of the vibration.  There are some words that
+were made only to tell of Lady Mary, for her alone - bellissima,
+divine, glorieuse!  Ah, how I have watch' her!  It is sad to me
+when I see her surround' by your yo'ng captains, your nobles, your
+rattles, your beaux - ha, ha!  - and I mus' hol' far aloof.  It is
+sad for me - but oh, jus' to watch her and to wonder!  Strange it
+is, but I have almos' cry out with rapture at a look I have see'
+her give another man, so beautiful it was, so tender, so dazzling
+of the eyes and so mirthful of the lips.  Ah, divine coquetry!  A
+look for another, ah-i -me!  for many others; and even to you, one
+day, a rose, while I - I, monsieur, could not even be so blessed
+as to be the groun' beneath her little shoe!  But to-night, monsieur
+ - ha, ha! - to-night, monsieur, you and me, two princes, M. le Duc
+de Winterset and M. le Duc de Chateaurien - ha, ha!  you see ?  - we
+are goin' arm-in-arm to that ball, and I am goin' have one of those
+looks, I!  And a rose!  I!  It is time.  But ten minute', nonsieur.
+I make my apology to keep you waitin' so long while I go in the nex'
+room and execute my poor mustachio - that will be my only murder
+for jus' this one evening - and inves' myself in white satin.  Ha,
+ha!  I shall be very gran', monsieur.  Francois, send Louis to me;
+Victor, to order two chairs for monsieur and me; we are goin'
+out in the worl' to-right!"
+
+
+Chapter Two
+
+
+The chairmen swarmed in the street at Lady Malbourne's door, where
+the joyous vulgar fought with muddied footmen and tipsy link-boys
+for places of vantage whence to catch a glimpse of quality and of
+raiment at its utmost.  Dawn was in the east, and the guests were
+departing.  Singly or in pairs, glittering in finery, they came
+mincing down the steps, the ghost of the night's smirk fading to
+jadedness as they sought the dark recesses of their chairs.  From
+within sounded the twang of fiddles still swinging manfully at it,
+and the windows were bright with the light of many candles.  When
+the door was flung open to call the chair of Lady Mary Carlisle,
+there was an eager pressure of the throng to see.
+
+A small, fair gentleman in white satin came out upon the steps,
+turned and bowed before a lady who appeared in the doorway, a lady
+whose royal loveliness was given to view for a moment in that
+glowing frame.  The crowd sent up a hearty English cheer for the
+Beauty of Bath.
+
+The gentleman smiled upon them delightedly.  "What enchanting
+peopie!" he cried.  "Why did I not know, so I might have shout' with
+them?"  The lady noticed the people not at all; whereat, being
+pleased, the people cheered again.  The gentleman offered her his
+hand; she made a slow courtesy; placed the tips of her fingers upon
+his own.  "I am honored, M. de Chateaurien," she said.
+
+"No, no!" he cried earnestly.  "Behol' a poor Frenchman whom emperors
+should envy."  Then reverently and with the pride of his gallant
+office vibrant in every line of his slight figure, invested in white
+satin and very grand, as he had prophesied, M. le Duc de Chateaurien
+handed Lady Mary Carlisle down the steps, an achievement which had
+figured in the ambitions of seven other gentlemen during the evening.
+
+"Am I to be lef'in such onhappiness?" he said in a low voice.  "That
+rose I have beg' for so long - "
+
+
+"Never!" said Lady Mary.
+
+"Ah, I do not deserve it, I know so well!  But - "
+
+"Never!"
+
+"It is the greatness of my onworthiness that alone can claim your
+charity; let your kin' heart give this little red rose, this great
+alms, to the poor beggar."
+
+"Never!"
+
+She was seated in the chair.  "Ah, give the rose," he whispered.
+Her beauty shone dazzlingly on him out of the dimness.
+
+"Never!" she flashed defiantly as she was closed in.  "Never!"
+
+"Never!"
+
+The rose fell at his feet.
+
+
+"A rose lasts till morning," said a voice behind him.
+
+Turning, M. de Chateaurien looked beamingly upon the face of the
+Duke of Winterset.
+
+"'Tis already the daylight," he replied, pointing to the east.
+"Monsieur, was it not enough honor for you to han' out madame, the
+aunt of Lady Mary?  Lady Rellerton retain much trace of beauty.
+'Tis strange you did not appear more happy."
+
+"The rose is of an unlucky color, I think," observed the Duke.
+
+"The color of a blush, my brother."
+
+"Unlucky, I still maintain," said the other calmly.
+
+"The color of the veins of a Frenchman.  Ha, ha!" cried the young
+man.  "What price would be too high?  A rose is a rose!  A good-night,
+my brother, a good-night.  I wish you dreams of roses, red roses,
+only beautiful red, red roses!"
+
+"Stay!  Did you see the look she gave these street folk when they
+shouted for her?  And how are you higher than they, when she knows?
+As high as yonder horse-boy!"
+
+"Red roses, my brother, only roses.  I wish you dreams of red, red
+roses!"
+
+
+Chapter Three
+
+
+It was well agreed by the fashion of Bath that M. le Duc de
+Chateaurien was a person of sensibility and haut ton; that his
+retinue and equipage surpassed in elegance; that his person was
+exquisite, his manner engaging.  In the company of gentlemen his
+ease was slightly tinged with graciousness (his single equal in
+Bath being his Grace of Winterset); but it was remarked that when
+he bowed over a lady's hand, his air bespoke only a gay and tender
+reverence.
+
+He was the idol of the dowagers within a week after his appearance;
+matrons warmed to him; young belles looked sweetly on him, while the
+gentlemen were won to admiration or envy.  He was of prodigious
+wealth: old Mr. Bicksit, who dared not, for his fame's sake, fail to
+have seen all things, had visited Chateaurien under the present
+Duke's father, and descanted to the curious upon its grandeurs.  The
+young noble had one fault, he was so poor a gambler.  He cared
+nothing for the hazards of a die or the turn of a card.  Gayly
+admitting that he had been born with no spirit of adventure in him,
+he was sure, he declared, that he failed of much happiness by his
+lack of taste in such matters.
+
+But he was not long wanting the occasion to prove his taste in the
+matter of handling a weapon.  A certain led-captain, Rohrer by name,
+notorious, amongst other things, for bearing a dexterous and
+bloodthirsty blade, came to Bath post-haste, one night, and jostled
+heartily against him, in the pump-room on the following morning.  M.
+de Chauteaurien bowed, and turned aside without offense, continuing
+a conversation with some gentlemen near by.  Captain Rohrer jostled
+against him a second time.  M. de Chateaurien looked him in the eye,
+and apologized pleasantly for being so much in the way.  Thereupon
+Rohrer procured an introduction to him, and made some observations
+derogatory to the valor and virtue of the French.  There was current
+a curious piece of gossip of the French court: a prince of the
+blood royal, grandson of the late Regent and second in the line of
+succession to the throne of France, had rebelled against the
+authority of Louis XV, who had commanded him to marry the Princess
+Henriette, cousin to both of them.  The princess was reported to be
+openly devoted to the cousin who refused to accept her hand at the
+bidding of the king; and, as rumor ran, the prince's caprice elected
+in preference the discipline of Vincennes, to which retirement the
+furious king had consigned him. The story was the staple gossip of
+all polite Europe; and Captain Rohrer, having in his mind a purpose
+to make use of it in leading up to a statement that should be general
+to the damage of all Frenchwomen, and which a Frenchman might not
+pass over as he might a jog of the elbow, repeated it with garbled
+truths to make a scandal of a story which bore none on a plain
+relation.
+
+He did not reach his deduction.  M. de Chateaurien, breaking into
+his narrative, addressed him very quietly.  "Monsieur," he said,
+"none but swine deny the nobleness of that good and gentle lady,
+Mademoiselle la Princesse de Bourbon-Conti.  Every Frenchman know'
+that her cousin is a bad rebel and ingrate, who had only honor and
+rispec' for her, but was so wilful he could not let even the king
+say, 'You shall marry here, you shall marry there.'  My frien's,"
+the young man turned to the others, "may I ask you to close roun'
+in a circle for one moment?  It is clearly shown that the Duke of
+Orleans is a scurvy fellow, but not - " he wheeled about and
+touched Captain Rohrer on the brow with the back of his gloved
+hand - " but not so scurvy as thou, thou swine of the gutter!"
+
+Two hours later, with perfect ease, he ran Captain Rohrer through
+the left shoulder - after which he sent a basket of red roses to
+the Duke of Winterset.  In a few days he had another captain to
+fight.  This was a ruffling buck who had the astounding indiscretion
+to proclaim M. de Chateaurien an impostor.  There was no Chateaurien,
+he swore.  The Frenchman laughed in his face, and, at twilight of
+the same day, pinked him carefully through the right shoulder.  It
+was not that he could not put aside the insult to himself, he
+declared to Mr. Molyneux, his second, and the few witnesses, as he
+handed his wet sword to his lackey - one of his station could not
+be insulted by a doubt of that station - but he fought in the
+quarrel of his friend Winterset.  This rascal had asserted that M.
+le Duc had introduced an impostor.  Could he overlook the insult
+to a friend, one to whom he owed his kind reception in Bath?  Then,
+bending over his fallen adversary, he whispered: "Naughty man,
+tell your master find some better quarrel for the nex' he sen'
+agains' me."
+
+The conduct of M. de Chateaurien was pronounced admirable.
+
+There was no surprise when the young foreigner fell naturally into
+the long train of followers of the beautiful Lady Mary Carlisle, nor
+was there great astonishment that he should obtain marked favor in
+her eyes, shown so plainly that my Lord Townbrake, Sir Hugh Guilford,
+and the rich Squire Bantison, all of whom had followed her through
+three seasons, swore with rage, and his Grace of Winterset stalked
+from her aunt's house with black brows.
+
+Meeting the Duke there on the evening after his second encounter
+de Chateaurien smiled upon him brilliantly.  "It was badly done; oh,
+so badly!" he whispered.  "Can you afford to have me strip' of my
+mask by any but yourself?  You, who introduce' me?  They will say
+there is some bad scandal that I could force you to be my god-father.
+You mus' get the courage yourself."
+
+"I told you a rose had a short life," was the answer.
+
+"Oh, those roses!  'Tis the very greates' rizzon to gather each day
+a fresh one."  He took a red bud from his breast for an instant, and
+touched it to his lips.
+
+"M. de Chateaurien!"  It was Lady Mary's voice; she stood at a table
+where a vacant place had been left beside her.  "M. de Chateaurien,
+we have been waiting very long for you."
+
+The Duke saw the look she did not know she gave the Frenchman, and
+he lost countenance for a moment.
+
+"We approach a climax, eh, monsieur?" said M. de Chateaurien.
+
+
+
+Chapter Four
+
+
+There fell a clear September night, when the moon was radiant over
+town and country, over cobbled streets and winding roads.  From the
+fields the mists rose slowly, and the air was mild and fragrant,
+while distances were white and full of mystery.  All of Bath that
+pretended to fashion or condition was present that evening at a
+fete at the house of a country gentleman of the neighborhood.  When
+the stately junket was concluded, it was the pleasure of M. de
+Chateaurien to form one of the escort of Lady Mary's carriage for
+the return.  As they took the road, Sir Hugh Guilford and Mr.
+Bantison, engaging in indistinct but vigorous remonstrance with
+Mr. Molyneux over some matter, fell fifty or more paces behind,
+where they continued to ride, keeping up their argument.  Half a
+dozen other gallants rode in advance, muttering among themselves,
+or attended laxly upon Lady Mary's aunt on the other side of the
+coach, while the happy Frenchman was permitted to ride close to
+that adorable window which framed the fairest face in England.
+
+He sang for her a little French song, a song of the voyageur who
+dreamed of home.  The lady, listening, looking up at the bright
+moon, felt a warm drop upon her cheek, and he saw the tears
+sparkling upon her lashes.
+
+"Mademoiselle," he whispered then, "I, too, have been a wanderer,
+but my dreams were not of France; no, I do not dream of that home,
+of that dear country.  It is of a dearer country, a dream country
+ - a country of gold and snow," he cried softly, looking it her
+white brow and the fair, lightly powdered hair above it.  "Gold and
+snow, and the blue sky of a lady's eyes!"
+
+"I had thought the ladies of France were dark, sir.
+
+"Cruel!  It is that she will not understan'!  Have I speak of the
+ladies of France?  No, no, no!  It is of the faires' country; yes,
+'tis a province of heaven, mademoiselle.  Do I not renounce my
+allegiance to France?  Oh, yes!  I am subjec' - no, content to be
+slave - in the lan' of the blue sky, the gold, and the snow.
+
+"A very pretty figure," answered Lady Mary, her eyes downcast.  "But
+does it not hint a notable experience in the making of such speeches?"
+
+"Tormentress!  No.  It prove only the inspiration it is to know you."
+
+"We English ladies hear plenty of the like sir; and we even grow
+brilliant enough to detect the assurance that lies beneath the
+courtesies of our own gallants."
+
+"Merci!  I should believe so!" ejaculated M. de Chateaurien: but he
+smothered the words upon his lips.
+
+Her eyes were not lifted.  She went on: "We come, in time, to believe
+that true feeling comes faltering forth, not glibly; that smoothness
+betokens the adept in the art, sir, rather than your true - your
+true - "  She was herself faltering; more, blushing deeply, and
+halting to a full stop in terror of a word.  There was a silence.
+
+"Your - true - lover," he said huskily.  When he had said that word
+both trembled.  She turned half away into the darkness of the coach.
+
+"I know what make' you to doubt me," he said, faltering himself,
+though it was not his art that prompted him.  "They have tol' you
+the French do nothing al - ways but make love, is it not so?  Yes,
+you think I am like that.  You think I am like that now!"
+
+She made no sign.
+
+"I suppose," he sighed, "I am unriz'nable; I would have the snow not
+so col' - for jus' me."
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"Turn to me," he said.
+
+The fragrance of the fields came to them, and from the distance the
+faint, clear note of a hunting-horn.
+
+"Turn to me.
+
+The lovely head was bent very low.  Her little gloved hand lay upon
+the narrow window ledge.  He laid his own gently upon it.  The two
+hands were shaking like twin leaves in the breeze.  Hers was not
+drawn away.  After a pause, neither knew how long, he felt the warm
+fingers turn and clasp themselves tremulously about his own.  At
+last she looked up bravely and met his eyes.  The horn was wound
+again - nearer.
+
+"All the cold was gone from the snows - long ago," she said.
+
+"My beautiful!" he whispered; it was all he could say.  "My
+beautiful!"  But she clutched his arm, startled.
+
+"'Ware the road!"  A wild halloo sounded ahead.  The horn wound
+loudly.  "'Ware the road!"  There sprang up out of the night a
+flying thunder of hoof-beats.  The gentlemen riding idly in front
+of the coach scattered to the hedge-sides; and, with drawn swords
+flashing in the moon, a party of horsemen charged down the highway,
+their cries blasting the night.
+
+"Barber!  Kill the barber!" they screamed.  "Barber!  Kill the
+barber!"
+
+Beaucaire had but time to draw his sword when they were upon him.
+
+"A moi!" his voice rang out clearly as he rose in his stirrups.  "A
+moi, Francois, Louis, Berquin!  A moi, Francois!"
+
+The cavaliers came straight at him.  He parried the thrust of the
+first, but the shock of collision hurled his horse against the side
+of the coach.  "Sacred swine!" he cried bitterly.  "To endanger a
+lady, to make this brawl in a lady's presence!  Drive on!" he
+shouted.
+
+"No!" cried Lady Mary.
+
+The Frenchman's assailants were masked, but they were not highwaymen.
+"Barber!  Barber!" they shouted hoarsely, and closed in on him in a
+circle.
+
+"See how he use his steel!" laughed M. Beaucaire, as his point passed
+through a tawdry waistcoat.  For a moment he cut through the ring and
+cleared a space about him, and Lady Mary saw his face shining in the
+moonlight.  "Canaille!" he hissed, as his horse sank beneath him;
+and, though guarding his head from the rain of blows from above, he
+managed to drag headlong from his saddle the man who had hamstrung
+the poor brute.  The fellow came suddenly to the ground, and lay
+there.
+
+"Is it not a compliment," said a heavy voice, "to bring six large
+men to subdue monsieur?" 
+
+"Oh, you are there, my frien'!  In the rear - a little in the rear,
+I think.  Ha, ha!" 
+
+The Frenchman's play with his weapon was a revelation of skill, the
+more extraordinary as he held in his hand only a light dress sword.
+But the ring closed about him, and his keen defense could not avail
+him for more than a few moments.  Lady Mary's outriders, the
+gallants of her escort, rode up close to the coach and encircled it,
+not interfering.
+
+"Sir Hugh Guilford!" cried Lady Mary wildly, "if you will not help
+him, give me your sword!"  She would have leaped to the ground, but
+Sir Hugh held the door.
+
+"Sit quiet, madam," he said to her; then, to the man on the box,
+"Drive on."
+
+"If he does, I'll kill him!" she said fiercely.  "Ah, what cowards!
+Will you see the Duke murdered?"
+
+"The Duke!" laughed Guilford.  "They will not kill him, unless - be
+easy, dear madam, 'twill be explained.  Gad's life!" he muttered to
+Molyneux, "'Twere time the varlet had his lashing!  D'ye hear her?"
+
+"Barber or no barber," answered Molyneux, "I wish I had warned him.
+He fights as few gentlemen could.  Ah - ah!  Look at that!  'Tis
+a shame!"
+
+On foot, his hat gone, his white coat sadly rent and gashed, flecked,
+too, with red, M. Beaucgjre, wary, alert, brilliant, seemed to
+transform himself into a dozen fencing-masters; and, though his skill
+appeared to lie in delicacy and quickness, his play being continually
+with the point, sheer strength failed to beat him down.  The young
+man was laughing like a child.
+
+"Believe me," said Molyneux "he's no barber!  No, and never was!"
+
+For a moment there was even a chance that M. Beaucaire might have the
+best of it.  Two of his adversaries were prostrate, more than one were
+groaning, and the indomitable Frenchman had actually almost beat off
+the ruffians, when, by a trick, he was overcome.  One of them,
+dismounting, ran in suddenly from behind, and seized his blade in a
+thick leather gauntlet.  Before Beaucaire could disengage the weapon,
+two others threw themselves from their horses and hurled him to the
+earth.  "A moi! A moi, Francois!" he cried as he went down, his sword
+in fragments, but his voice unbroken and clear.
+
+"Shame!" muttered one or two of the gentlemen about the coach.
+
+"'Twas dastardly to take him so, said Molyneux.  "Whatever his
+deservings, I'm nigh of a mind to offer bim a rescue in the Duke's
+face."
+
+"Truss him up, lads," said the heavy voice.  Clear the way in front
+of the coach.  There sit those whom we avenge upon a presumptuous
+lackey.  Now, Whiffen, you have a fair audience, lay on and baste him."
+
+Two men began to drag M. Beaucaire toward a great oak by the roadside.
+Another took from his saddle a heavy whip with three thongs.
+
+"A moi, Francois!"
+
+There was borne on the breeze an answer - " Monseigneur!
+Monseigneur!"  The cry grew louder suddenly.  The clatter of hoofs
+urged to an anguish of speed sounded on the night.  M. Beaucaire's
+servants had lagged sorely behind, but they made up for it now.
+Almost before the noise of their own steeds they came riding down
+the moonlit aisle between the mists.  Chosen men, these
+servants of Beaucaire, and like a thunderbolt they fell upon the
+astounded cavaliers.
+
+"Chateaurien!  Chateaurien!" they shouted, and smote so swiftly
+that, through lack of time, they showed no proper judgment,
+discriminating nothing between non-combatants and their master's
+foes.  They charged first into the group about M. Beaucaire, and
+broke and routed it utterly.  Two of them leaped to the young man's
+side, while the other four, swerving, scarce losing the momentum of
+their onset, bore on upon the gentlemen near the coach, who went
+down beneath the fierceness of the onslaught, cursing manfully.
+
+"Our just deserts," said Mr. Moly-neux, his mouth full of dust and
+philosophy.
+
+Sir Hugh Guilford's horse fell with him, being literally ridden
+over, and the baronet's leg was pinned under the saddle.  In less
+than ten minutes from the first attack on M. Beaucaire, the
+attacking party had fled in disorder, and the patrician
+non-combatants, choking with expletives, consumed with wrath, were
+prisoners, disarmed by the Frenchman's lackeys.
+
+Guilford's discomfiture had freed the doors of the coach; so it was
+that when M. Beaucaire, struggling to rise, assisted by his servants,
+threw out one hand to balance himself, he found it seized between
+two small, cold palms, and he looked into two warm, dilating eyes,
+that were doubly beautiful because of the fright and rage that
+found room in them, too.
+
+M. le Duc Chateaurien sprang to his feet without the aid of his
+lackeys, and bowed low before Lady Mary.
+
+"I make ten thousan' apology to be' the cause of a such melee in
+your presence," he said; and then, turning to Francois, he spoke in
+French: "Ah, thou scoundrel!  A little, and it had been too late."
+
+Francois knelt in the dust before him. "Pardon!" he said.
+"Monseigneur commanded us to follow far in the rear, to remain
+unobserved.  The wind malignantly blew against monseigneur's voice."
+
+"See what it might have cost, my children," said his master,
+pointing to the ropes with which they would have bound him and to
+the whip lying beside them.  A shudder passed over the lackey's
+frame; the utter horror in his face echoed in the eyes of his
+fellows.
+
+"Oh, monseigneur!" Francois sprang back, and tossed his arms to
+heaven.
+
+"But it did not happen," said M. Beaucaire.
+
+"It could not!" exclaimed Francois.
+
+"No.  And you did very well, my children - " the young man smiled
+benevolently - "very well.  And now," he continued, turning to Lady
+Mary and speaking in English, "let me be asking of our gallants
+yonder what make' them to be in cabal with highwaymen.  One should
+come to a polite understanding with them, you think?  Not so?"
+
+He bowed, offering his hand to conduct her to the coach, where
+Molyneux and his companions, having drawn Sir Hugh from under his
+horse, were engaged in reviving and reassuring Lady Rellerton, who
+had fainted.  But Lady Mary stayed Beaucaire with a gesture, and
+the two stood where they were.
+
+"Monseigneur!" she said, with a note of raillery in her voice, but
+raillery so tender that he started with happiness.  His movement
+brought him a hot spasm of pain, and he clapped his hand to a red
+stain on his waistcoat.
+
+"You are hurt!"
+
+"It is nothing," smiled M. Beaucaire.  Then, that she might not see
+the stain spreading, he held his handkerchief over the spot.  "I am
+a little - but jus' a trifling - bruise'; 'tis all."
+
+"You shall ride in the coach," she whispered.  "Will you be pleased,
+M. de Chateaurien?"
+
+"Ah, my beautiful!"  She seemed to wave before him like a shining
+mist.  "I wish that ride might las' for al - ways!  Can you say
+that, mademoiselle?"
+
+"Monseigneur," she cried in a passion of admiration, "I would what
+you would have be, should be.  What do you not deserve?  You are
+the bravest man in the world!"
+
+"Ha, ha!  I am jus' a poor Frenchman."
+
+"Would that a few Englishmen had shown themselves as 'poor' tonight.
+The vile cowards, not to help you!"  With that, suddenly possessed
+by her anger, she swept away from him to the coach.
+
+Sir Hugh, groaning loudly, was being assisted into the vehicle.
+
+"My little poltroons," she said, "what are you doing with your
+fellow-craven, Sir Hugh Guilford, there?"
+
+"Madam," replied Molyneux humbly, "Sir Hugh's leg is broken.  Lady
+Rellerton graciously permits him to be taken in."
+
+"I do not permit it!  M. de Chateaurien rides with us."
+
+"But - "
+
+"Sir!  Leave the wretch to groan by the roadside," she cried
+fiercely, "which plight I would were that of all of you!  But there
+will be a pretty story for the gossips to-morrow!  And I could
+almost find pity for you when I think of the wits when you return
+to town.  Fine gentlemen you; hardy bravos, by heaven!  to leave
+one man to meet a troop of horse single-handed, while you huddle
+in shelter until you are overthrown and disarmed by servants!  Oh,
+the wits!  Heaven save you from the wits!"
+
+"madam."
+
+"Address me no more!  M. de Chateaurien, Lady Rellerton and I will
+greatly esteem the honor of your company.  Will you come?"
+
+She stepped quickly into the coach, and was gathering her skirts
+to make room for the Frenchman, when a heavy voice spoke from the
+shadows of the tree by the wayside.
+
+"Lady Mary Carlisle will, no doubt, listen to a word of counsel on
+this point."
+
+The Duke of Winterset rode out into the moonlight, composedly
+untieing a mask from about his head.  He had not shared the flight
+of his followers, but had retired into the shade of the oak, whence
+he now made his presence known with the utmost coolness.
+
+"Gracious heavens, 'tis Winterset!" exclaimed Lady Rellerton.
+
+"Turned highwayman and cut-throat," cried Lady Mary.
+
+"No, no," laughed M. Beaucaire, somewhat unsteadily, as he stood,
+swaying a little, with one hand on the coach-door, the other
+pressed hard on his side, "he only oversee'; he is jus' a little
+bashful, sometime'.  He is a great man, but he don' want all the
+glory!"
+
+"Barber," replied the Duke, "I must tell you that I gladly descend
+to bandy words with you; your monstrous impudence is a claim to rank
+I cannot ignore.  But a lackey who has himself followed by six other
+lackeys - "
+
+"Ha, ha!  Has not M. le Duc been busy all this evening to justify
+me?  And I think mine mus' be the bes' six.  Ha, ha!  You think?"
+
+"M. de Chateaurien," said Lady Mary, "we are waiting for you."
+
+"Pardon," he replied.  "He has something to say; maybe it is bes'
+if you hear it now."
+
+"I wish to hear nothing from him - ever!"
+
+"My faith, madam," cried the Duke, "this saucy fellow has paid
+you the last insult!  He is so sure of you he does not fear you
+will believe the truth.  When all is told, if you do not agree he
+deserved the lashing we planned to - "
+
+"I'll hear no more!"
+
+"You will bitterly repent it, madam.  For your own sake I entreat - " 
+
+"And I also," broke in M. Beaucaire.  "Permit me, mademoiselle; let
+him speak."
+
+"Then let him be brief," said Lady Mary, "for I am earnest to be quit
+of him. His explanation or an attack on my friend and on my carriage
+should be made to my
+brother."
+
+"Alas that he was not here," said the Duke, "to aid me!  Madam,
+was your carriage threatened?  I have endeavored only to expunge
+a debt I owed to Bath and to avenge an insult offered to yourself
+through - "
+
+"Sir, sir, my patience will bear little more!"
+
+"A thousan' apology," said M. Beaucaire.  "You will listen, I only
+beg, Lady Mary?"
+
+She made an angry gesture of assent.
+
+"Madam, I will be brief as I may.  Two months ago there came to Bath
+a French gambler calling himself Beaucaire, a desperate fellow with
+the cards or dice, and all the men of fashion went to play at his
+lodging, where he won considerable sums.  He was small, wore a black
+wig and mustachio.  He had the insolence to show himself everywhere
+until the Master of Ceremonies rebuffed him in the pump-room, as you
+know, and after that he forbore his visits to the rooms.  Mr. Nash
+explained (and was confirmed, madam, by indubitable information)
+that this Beaucaire was a man of unspeakable, vile, low birth, being,
+in fact, no other than a lackey of the French king's ambassador,
+Victor by name, de Mirepoix's barber.  Although his condition was
+known, the hideous impudence of the fellow did not desert him, and
+he remained in Bath, where none would speak to him."
+
+"Is your farrago nigh done, sir?"
+
+"A few moments, madam.  One evening, three weeks gone, I observed
+a very elegant equipage draw up to my door, and the Duke of
+Chateaurien was announced.  The young man's manners were worthy - 
+according to the French acceptance - and 'twere idle to deny him
+the most monstrous assurance.  He declared himself a noble
+traveling for pleasure.  He had taken lodgings in Bath for a
+season, he said, and called at once to pay his respects to me.
+His tone was so candid - in truth, I am the simplest of men, very
+easily gulled - and his stroke so bold, that I did not for one
+moment suspect him; and, to my poignant regret - though in the
+humblest spirit I have shown myself eager to atone - that very
+evening I had the shame of presenting him to yourself."
+
+"The shame, sir!"
+
+"Have patience, pray, madam.  Ay, the shame!  You know what figure
+he hath cut in Bath since that evening.  All ran merrily with him
+until several days ago Captain Badger denounced him as an impostor,
+vowing that Chateaurien was nothing."
+
+"Pardon," interrupted M. Beaucaire.  "'Castle Nowhere' would have
+been so much better.  Why did you not make him say it that way,
+monsieur?"
+
+Lady Mary started; she was looking at the Duke, and her face was
+white.  He continued: "Poor Captam Badger was stabbed that same
+day. - "
+
+"Most befitting poor Captain Badger," muttered Molyneux.
+
+" -  - And his adversary had the marvelous insolence to declare that
+he fought in my quarrel!  This afternoon the wounded man sent for me,
+and imparted a very horrifying intelligence.  He had discovered a
+lackey whom he had seen waiting upon Beaucaire in attendance at the
+door of this Chateaurien's lodging.  Beaucaire had disappeared the
+day before Chateaurien's arrival.  Captain Badger looked closely at
+Chateaurien at their next meeting, and identified him with the
+missing Beaucaire beyond the faintest doubt.  Overcome with
+indignation, he immediately proclaimed the impostor.  Out of regard
+for me, he did not charge him with being Beaucaire; the poor soul
+was unwilling to put upon me the humiliation of having introduced a
+barber; but the secret weighed upon him till he sent for me and put
+everything in my hands.  I accepted the odium; thinking only of
+atonement.  I went to Sir John Wimpledon's fite.  I took poor Sir
+Hugh, there, and these other gentlemen aside, and told them my news.
+We narrowly observed this man, and were shocked at our simplicity
+in not having discovered him before.  These are men of honor and
+cool judgment, madam.  Mr. Molyneux had acted for him in the affair
+of Captain Badger, and was strongly prejudiced in his favor; but
+Mr. Molyneux, Sir Hugh, Mr. Bantison, every one of them, in short,
+recognized him.  In spite of his smooth face and his light hair,
+the adventurer Beaucaire was writ upon him amazing plain.  Look at
+him, madam, if he will dare the inspection.  You saw this Beaucaire
+well, the day of his expulsion from the rooms.  Is not this he?"
+
+M. Beaucaire stepped close to her.  Her pale face twitched.
+
+"Look!" he said.
+
+"Oh, oh!" she whispered with a dry throat, and fell back in the
+carriage.
+
+"Is it so?" cried the Duke.
+
+"I do not know. - I - cannot tell."
+
+"One moment more.  I begged these gentlemen to allow me to wipe
+out the insult I had unhappily offered to Bath, but particularly
+to you.  They agreed not to forestall me or to interfere.  I left
+Sir John Wimpledon's early, and arranged to give the sorry rascal
+a lashing under your own eyes, a satisfaction due the lady into
+whose presence he had dared to force himself."
+
+"'Noblesse oblige'?" said M. Beaucaire in a tone of gentle inquiry.
+
+"And now, madam," said the Duke, "I will detain you not one second
+longer.  I plead the good purpose of my intentions, begging you to
+believe that the desire to avenge a hateful outrage, next to the
+wish to serve you, forms the dearest motive in the heart of Winterset."
+
+"Bravo!" cried Beaucaire softly.
+
+Lady Mary leaned toward him, a thriving terror in her eyes.  "It is
+false?" she faltered.
+
+"Monsieur should not have been born so high.  He could have made
+little book'."
+
+"You mean it is false?" she cried breathlessly.
+
+"'Od's blood, is she not convinced?" broke out Mr. Bantison.
+"Fellow, were you not the ambassador's barber?"
+
+"It is all false?" she whispered.
+
+"The mos' fine art, mademoiselle.  How long you think it take M. de
+Winterset to learn that speech after he write it out?  It is a mix
+of what is true and the mos' chaste art.  Monsieur has become a man
+of letters.  Perhaps he may enjoy that more than the wars.  Ha, ha!"
+
+Mr. Bantison burst into a roar of laughter.  "Do French gentlemen
+fight lackeys?  Ho, ho, ho!  A pretty country!  We English do as
+was done to-night, have our servants beat them."
+
+"And attend ourselves," added M. Beaucaire, looking at the Duke,
+"somewhat in the background?  But, pardon," he mocked, "that remind'
+me.  Francois, return to Mr. Bantison and these gentlemen their
+weapons."
+
+"Will you answer a question?" said Molyneux mildly.
+
+"Oh, with pleasure, monsieur."
+
+"Were you ever a barber?"
+
+"No, monsieur," laughed the young man.
+
+"Pah!" exclaimed Bantison.  "Let me question him. Now, fellow, a
+confession may save you from jail.  Do you deny you are Beaucaire?"
+
+"Deny to a such judge?"
+
+"Ha!" said Bantison.  "What more do you want, Molyneux?  Fellow, do
+you deny that you came to London in the ambassador's suite?"
+
+"No, I do not deny."
+
+"He admits it!  Didn't you come as his barber?"
+
+"Yes, my frien', as his barber."  Lady Mary cried out faintly, and,
+shuddering, put both hands over her eyes.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Molyneux.  "You fight like a gentleman."
+
+"I thank you, monsieur."
+
+"You called yourself Beaucaire?"
+
+"Yes, monsieur."  He was swaying to and fro; his servants ran to
+support him.
+
+"I wish - " continued Molyncux, hesitating.  "Evil take me!  - but
+I'm sorry you're hurt."
+
+"Assist Sir Hugh into my carriage," said Lady Mary.
+
+"Farewell, mademoiselle!" M. Beaucaire's voice was very faint.  His
+eyes were fixed upon her face.  She did not look toward him.
+
+They were propping Sir Hugh on the cushions.  The Duke rode up close
+to Beaucaire, but Francois seized his bridle fiercely, and forced the
+horse back on its haunches.
+
+"The man's servants worship him," said Molyneux.
+
+"Curse your insolence!" exclaimed the Duke.  "How much am I to bear
+from this varlet and his varlets?  Beaucaire, if you have not left
+Bath by to-morrow noon, you will be clapped into jail, and the
+lashing you escaped to-night shall be given you thrice tenfold!"
+
+"I shall be-in the - Assemily - Room' at nine - o'clock, one week
+ - from - to-night," answered the young man, smiling jauntily, though
+his lips were colorless.  The words cost him nearly all his breath
+and strength.  "You mus' keep - in the - backgroun', monsieur.  Ha,
+ha!"  The door of the coach closed with a slam.
+
+"Mademoiselle - fare - well!"
+
+"Drive on!" said Lady Mary.
+
+M. Beaucaire followed the cariiage with his eyes.  As the noise of
+the wheels and the hoof-beats of the accompanying cavalcade grew
+fainter in the distance, the handkerchief he had held against his
+side dropped into the white dust, a heavy red splotch.
+
+"Only - roses," he gasped, and fell back in the arms of his servants.
+
+
+Chapter Five
+
+
+Beau Nash stood at the door of the rooms, smiling blandly upon a
+dainty throng in the pink of its finery and gay furbelows.  The
+great exquisite bent his body constantly in a series of consummately
+adjusted bows: before a great dowager, seeming to sweep the floor
+in august deference; somewhat stately to the young bucks; greeting
+the wits with gracous friendliness and a twinkle of raillery;
+inclining with fatherly gallantry before the beauties; the degree
+of his inclination measured the altitude of the recipient as
+accurately as a nicely calculated sand-glass measures the hours.
+
+The King of Bath was happy, for wit, beauty, fashion - to speak more
+concretely: nobles, belles, gamesters, beaux, statesmen, and poets
+ - made fairyland (or opera bouffe, at least) in his dominions; play
+ran higher and higher, and Mr. Nash's coffers filled up with gold.
+To crown his pleasure, a prince of the French blood, the young Comte
+de Beaujolais, just arrived from Paris, had reached Bath at noon in
+state, accompanied by the Marquis de Mirepoix, the ambassador of
+Louis XV.  The Beau dearly prized the society of the lofty, and the
+present visit was an honor to Bath: hence to the Master of Ceremonies.
+What was better, there would be some profitable hours with the
+cards and dice.  So it was that Mr. Nash smiled never more benignly
+than on that bright evening.  The rooms rang with the silvery voices
+of women and delightful laughter, while the fiddles went merrily,
+their melodies chiming sweetly with the joyance of his mood.
+
+The skill and brazen effrontery of the ambassador's scoundrelly
+servant in passing himself off for a man of condition formed the
+point of departure for every conversation.  It was discovered that
+there were but three persons present who had not suspected him from
+the first; and, by a singular paradox, the most astute of all proved
+to be old Mr. Bicksit, the traveler, once a visitor at Chateaurien;
+for he, according to report, had by a coup of diplomacy entrapped
+the impostor into an admission that there was no such place.  However,
+like poor Captain Badger, the worthy old man had held his peace out
+of regard for the Duke of Winterset.  This nobleman, heretofore
+secretly disliked, suspected of irregular devices at play, and never
+admired, had won admiration and popularity by his remorse for the
+mistake, and by the modesty of his attitude in endeavoring to atone
+for it, without presuming upon the privilege of his rank to laugh at
+the indignation of society; an action the more praiseworthy because
+his exposure of the impostor entailed the disclosure of his own
+culpability in having stood the villain's sponsor.  To-night, the
+happy gentleman, with Lady Mary Carlisle upon his arm, went grandly
+about the rooms, sowing and reaping a harvest of smiles.  'Twas
+said work would be begun at once to rebuild the Duke's country seat,
+while several ruined Jews might be paid out of prison.  People
+gazing on the beauty and the stately but modest hero by her side,
+said they would make a noble pair.  She had long been distinguished
+by his attentions, and he had come brilliantly out of the episode
+of the Frenchman, who had been his only real rival.  Wherever they
+went, there arose a buzz of pleasing gossip and adulation.  Mr. Nash,
+seeing them near him, came forward with greetings.  A word on the
+side passed between the nobleman and the exquisite.
+
+"I had news of the rascal tonight," whispered Nash.  "He lay at a
+farm till yesterday, when he disappeared; his ruffians, too."
+
+"You have arranged?" asked the Duke.
+
+"Fourteen bailiffs are watching without.  He could not come within
+gunshot.  If they clap eyes on him, they will hustle him to jail,
+and his cutthroats shall not avail him a hair's weight.  The
+impertinent swore he'd be here by nine, did he?"
+
+"He said so; and 'tis a rash dog, sir."
+
+"It is just nine now.""
+
+"Send out to see if they have taken him."
+
+"Gladly."
+
+The Beau beckoned an attendant, and whispered in his ear.
+
+Many of the crowd had edged up to the two gentlemen with apparent
+carelessness, to overhear their conversation.  Those who did
+overhear repeated it in covert asides, and this circulating
+undertone, confirming a vague rumor that Beaucaire would attempt
+the entrance that night, lent a pleasurable color of excitement to
+the evening.  The French prince, the ambassador, and their suites
+were announced.  Polite as the assembly was.  it was also curious,
+and there occurred a mannerly rush to see the newcomers.  Lady
+Mary, already pale, grew whiter as the throng closed round her; she
+looked up pathetically at the Duke, who lost no time in extricating
+her from the pressure.
+
+"Wait here," he said; "I will fetch you a glass of negus," and
+disappeared.  He had not thought to bring a chair, and she, looking
+about with an increasing faintness and finding none, saw that she
+was standing by the door of a small side-room.  The crowd swerved
+back for the passage of the legate of France, and pressed upon her.
+She opened the door, and went in.
+
+The room was empty save for two gentlemen, who were quietly playing
+cards at a table.  They looked up as she entered.  They were M.
+Beaucaire and Mr. Molyneux.
+
+She uttered a quick cry and leaned against the wall, her hand to her
+breast.  Beaucaire, though white and weak, had brought her a chair
+before Molyneux could stir.
+
+"Mademoiselle - "
+
+"Do not touch me!" she said, with such frozen abhorrence in her voice
+that he stopped short.  "Mr. Molyneux, you seek strange company!"
+
+"Madam," replied Molyneux, bowing deeply, as much to Beaucaire as
+to herself, "I am honored by the presence of both of you.
+
+"Oh, are you mad!" she exclaimed, contemptuously.
+
+"This gentleman has exalted me with his confidence, madam," he
+replied.
+
+"Will you add your ruin to the scandal of this fellow's presence
+here?  How he obtained entrance - "
+
+"Pardon, mademoiselle," interrupted Beaucaire.  "Did I not say I
+should come?  M. Molyneux was so obliging as to answer for me to
+the fourteen frien's of M. de Winterset and Meestaire Nash."
+
+"Do you not know," she turned vehemently upon Molyneux, "that he
+will be removed the moment I leave this room?  Do you wish to be
+dragged out with him?  For your sake, sir, because I have always
+thought you a man of heart, I give you a chance to save yourself
+from disgrace - and - your companion from jail.  Let him slip out
+by some retired way, and you may give me your arm and we will
+enter the next room as if nothing had happened.  Come, sir - "
+
+"Mademoiselle - "
+
+"Mr. Molyneux, I desire to hear nothing from your companion.  Had
+I not seen you at cards with him I should have supposed him in
+attendance as your lackey.  Do you desire to take advantage of my
+offer, sir?"
+
+"Mademoiselle, I could not tell you, on that night - "
+
+"You may inform your high-born friend, Mr. Molyneux, that I heard
+everything he had to say; that my pride once had the pleasure of
+listening to his high-born confession!"
+
+"Ah, it is gentle to taunt one with his birth, mademoiselle?  Ah,
+no!  There is a man in my country who say strange things of that
+ - that a man is not his father, but himself."
+
+"You may inform your friend, Mr. Molyneux, that he had a chance to
+defend himself against accusation; that he said all - "
+
+"That I did say all I could have strength to say.  Mademoiselle, you
+did not see - as it was right - that I had been stung by a big wasp.
+It was nothing, a scratch; but, mademoiselle, the sky went round and
+the moon dance' on the earth.  I could not wish that big wasp to see
+he had stung me; so I mus' only say what I can have strength for,
+and stand straight till he is gone.  Beside', there are other rizzons.
+Ah, you mus' belief!  My Molyneux I sen' for, and tell him all,
+because he show courtesy to the yo'ng Frenchman, and I can trus' him.
+I trus' you, mademoiselle - long ago - and would have tol' you
+ev'rything, excep' jus' because - well, for the romance, the fon!
+You belief?  It is so clearly so; you do belief, mademoiselle?"
+
+She did not even look at him. M. Beaucaire lifted his hand
+appealingly toward her.  "Can there be no faith in - in -  he said
+timidly, and paused.  She was silent, a statue, my Lady Disdain.
+
+"If you had not belief' me to be an impostor; if I had never said I
+was Chateaurien; if I had been jus' that Monsieur Beaucaire of the
+story they tol' you, but never with the heart of a lackey, an hones'
+man, a man, the man you knew, himself, could you - would you - " 
+He was trying to speak firmly; yet, as he gazed upon her splendid
+beauty, he choked slightly, and fumbled in the lace at his throat
+with unsteady fingers. - "Would you - have let me ride by your side
+in the autumn moonlight?"  Her glance passed by him as it might have
+passed by a footman or a piece of furniture.  He was dressed
+magnificently, a multitude of orders glittering on his breast.  Her
+eye took no knowledge of him.
+
+"Mademoiselle-I have the honor to ask you: if you had known this
+Beaucaire was hones', though of peasant birth, would you - "
+
+Involuntarily, controlled as her icy presence was, she shuddered.
+There was a moment of silence.
+
+"Mr. Molyneux," said Lady Mary, "in spite of your discourtesy in
+allowing a servant to address me, I offer you a last chance to
+leave this room undisgraced.  Will you give me your arm?"
+
+"Pardon me, madam," said Mr. Molyneux.
+
+Beaucaire dropped into a chair with his head bent low and his arm
+outstretched on the table; his eyes filled slowly in spite of
+himself, and two tears rolled down the young man's cheeks.
+
+"An' live men are jus' - names!" said M. Beaucaire.
+
+
+
+Chapter Six
+
+
+In the outer room, Winterset, unable to find Lady Mary, and supposing
+her to have joined Lady Rellerton, disposed of his negus, then
+approached the two visitors to pay his respects to the young prince,
+whom he discovered to be a stripling of seventeen, arrogant looking,
+but pretty as a girl.  Standing beside the Marquis de Mirepoix - a
+man of quiet bearing - he was surrounded by a group of the great,
+among whom Mr. Nash naturally counted himself.  The Beau was
+felicitating himself that the foreigners had not arrived a week
+earlier, in which case he and Bath would have been detected in a
+piece of gross ignorance concerning the French nobility - making
+much of de Mirepoix's ex-barber.
+
+"'Tis a lucky thing that fellow was got out of the way," he
+ejaculated, under cover.
+
+"Thank me for it," rejoined Winterset.
+
+An attendant begged Mr. Nash's notice.  The head bailiff sent word
+that Beaucaire had long since entered the building by a side door.
+It was supposed Mr. Nash had known of it, and the Frenchman was not
+arrested, as Mr. Molyneux was in his company, and said he would be
+answerable for him.  Consternation was so plain on the Beau's
+trained face that the Duke leaned toward him anxiously.
+
+"The villain's in, and Molyneux hath gone mad!"
+
+Mr. Bantison, who had been fiercely elbowing his way toward them,
+joined heads with them. "You may well say he is in," he exclaimed
+"and if you want to know where, why, in yonder card-room. I saw
+him through the half-open door."
+
+"What's to be done?" asked the Beau.
+
+"Send the bailiffs - "
+
+"Fie, fie!  A file of bailiffs?  The scandal!"
+
+"Then listen to me," said the Duke.  "I'll select half-a-dozen
+gentlemen, explain the matter, and we'll put him in the center of
+us and take him out to the bailiffs.  'Twill appear nothing.  Do
+you remain here and keep the attention of Beaujolais and de
+Mirepoix.  Come, Bantison, fetch Townbrake and Harry Rakell yonder;
+I'll bring the others."
+
+Three minutes later, his Grace of Winterset flung wide the card-room
+door, and, after his friends had entered, closed it.
+
+"Ah!" remarked M. Beaucaire quietly.  "Six more large men.
+
+The Duke, seeing Lady Mary, started; but the angry signs of her
+interview had not left her face, and reassured him. He offered his
+hand to conduct her to the door.  "May I have the honor?"
+
+"If this is to be known, 'twill be better if I leave after; I
+should be observed if I went now."
+
+"As you will, madam," he answered, not displeased.  "And now, you
+impudent villain," he began, turning to M. Beaucaire, but to fall
+back astounded.  "'Od's blood, the dog hath murdered and robbed some
+royal prince!"  He forgot Lady Mary's presence in his excitement.
+"Lay hands on him!" he shouted.  "Tear those orders from him!"
+
+Molyneux threw himself between.  "One word!" he cried.  "One word
+before you offer an outrage you will repent all your lives!"
+
+"Or let M. de Winterset come alone," laughed M. Beaucaire.
+
+"Do you expect me to fight a cut-throat barber, and with bare hands?"
+
+"I think one does not expec' monsieur to fight anybody.  Would I
+fight you, you think?  That was why I had my servants, that evening we
+play.  I would gladly fight almos' any one in the won'; but I did not
+wish to soil my hand with a - "
+
+"Stuff his lying mouth with his orders!" shouted the Duke.
+
+But Molyneux still held the gentiemen back.  "One moment," he cried.
+
+"M. de Winterset," said Beaucaire, "of what are you afraid?  You
+calculate well.  Beaucaire might have been belief - an impostor
+that you yourself expose'?  Never!  But I was not goin' reveal that
+secret.  You have not absolve me of my promise."
+
+"Tell what you like," answered the Duke.  "Tell all the wild lies
+you have time for.  You have five minutes to make up your mind to go
+quietly."
+
+"Now you absolve me, then?  Ha, ha!  Oh, yes!  Mademoiselle," he
+bowed to Lady Mary, "I have the honor to reques' you leave the
+room. You shall miss no details if these frien's of yours kill me,
+on the honor of a French gentleman."
+
+"A French what?" laughed Bantison.
+
+"Do you dare keep up the pretense?" cried Lord Town brake.  "Know,
+you villain barber, that your master, the Marquis de Mirepoix, is
+in the next room."
+
+Molyneux heaved a great sigh of relief.  "Shall I - " He turned to
+M. Beaucaire.
+
+The young man laughed, and said: "Tell him come here at once.
+
+"Impudent to the last!" cried Bantison, as Molyneux hurried from
+the room.
+
+"Now you goin' to see M. Beaucaire's master," said Beaucaire to Lady
+Mary.  "'Tis true what I say, the other night.  I cross from Prance
+in his suite; my passport say as his barber.  Then to pass the ennui
+of exile, I come to Bath and play for what one will.  It kill the
+time.  But when the people hear I have been a servant they come only
+secretly; and there is one of them - he has absolve' me of a promise
+not to speak - of him I learn something he cannot wish to be tol'.
+I make some trouble to learn this thing.  Why I should do this?
+Well - that is my own rizzon.  So I make this man help me in a masque,
+the unmasking it was, for, as there is no one to know me, I throw off
+my black wig and become myself - and so I am 'Chateaurien,' Castle
+Nowhere.  Then this man I use', this Winterset, he - "
+
+"I have great need to deny these accusations?" said the Duke.
+
+"Nay," said Lady Mary weari1y.
+
+"Shall I tell you why I mus' be 'Victor' and 'Beaucaire' and
+'Chateaurien,' and not myself?"
+
+"To escape from the bailiffs for debts for razors and soap," gibed
+Lord Townbrake.
+
+"No, monsieur.  In France I have got a cousin who is a man with a
+very bad temper at some time', and he will never enjoy his relatives
+to do what he does not wish - "
+
+He was interrupted by a loud commotion from without.  The door was
+flung open, and the young Count of Beaujolais bounded in and threw his
+arms about the neck of M. Beaucaire.
+
+"Philippe!" he cried.  "My brother, I have come to take you back
+with me."
+
+M. de Mirepoix followed him, bowing as a courtier, in deference;
+but M. Beaucaire took both his hands heartily.  Molyneux came after,
+with Mr. Nash, and closed the door.
+
+"My warmest felicitations," said the Marquis.  "There is no longer
+need for your incognito."
+
+"Thou best of masters!" said Beaucaire, touching him fondly on the
+shoulder.  "I know.  Your courier came safely.  And so I am forgiven!
+But I forget."  He turned to the lady.  She had begun to tremble
+exceedingly.  "Faires' of all the English fair," he said, as the
+gentlemen bowed low to her deep courtesy, "I beg the honor to
+presen' to Lady Mary Carlisle, M. le Comte de Beaujolais.  M. de
+Mirepoix has already the honor.  Lady Mary has been very kind to me,
+my frien's; you mus' help me make my acknowledgment.  Mademoiselle
+and gentlemen, will you give me that favour to detain you one
+instan'?"
+
+"Henri," he turned to the young Beaujolais, "I wish you had shared
+my masque - I have been so gay!"  The surface of his tone was merry,
+but there was an undercurrent, weary - sad, to speak of what was the
+mood, not the manner.  He made the effect of addressing every one
+present, but he looked steadily at Lady Mary.  Her eyes were fixed
+upon him, with a silent and frightened fascination, and she trembled
+more and more.  "I am a great actor, Henri.  These gentlemen are yet
+scarce convince' I am not a lackey!  And I mus' tell you that I was
+jus' now to be expelled for having been a barber!"
+
+"Oh, no!,, the ambassador cried out.  "He would not be content with
+me; he would wander over a strange country."
+
+"Ha, ha, my Mirepoix!  And what is better, one evening I am oblige'
+to fight some frien's of M. de Winterset there, and some ladies and
+cavaliers look on, and they still think me a servant.  Oh, I am a
+great actor!  'Tis true there is not a peasant in France who would
+not have then known one 'born'; but they are wonderful, this English
+people, holding by an idea once it is in their heads - a mos' worthy
+quality.  But my good Molyneux here, he had speak to me with courtesy,
+jus' because I am a man an' jus' because he is al - ways kind.  (I
+have learn' that his great-grandfather was a Frenchman.) So I sen' to
+him and tell him ev'rything, and he gain admittance for me here
+to-night to await my frien's.
+
+"I was speaking to messieurs about my cousin, who will meddle in the
+affair' of his relatives.  Well, that gentleman, he make a marriage
+for me with a good and accomplish' lady, very noble and very
+beautiful - and amiable."  (The young count at his elbow started
+slightly at this, but immediately appeared to wrap himself in a
+mantle of solemn thought.)  "Unfortunately, when my cousin arrange'
+so, I was a dolt, a little blockhead; I swear to marry for myself
+and when I please, or never if I like.  That lady is all things
+charming and gentle, and, in truth, she is -  very much attach' to
+me - why should I not say it?  I am so proud of it.  She is very
+faithful and forgiving and sweet; she would be the same, I think,
+if I - were even - a lackey.  But I?  I was a dolt, a little
+unsensible brute; I did not value such thing' then; I was too yo'ng,
+las' June.  So I say to my cousin, 'No, I make my own choosing!'
+'Little fool,' he answer, 'she is the one for you.  Am I not wiser
+than you?'  And he was very angry, and, as he has influence in
+France, word come' that he will get me put in Vincennes, so I mus'
+run away quick till his anger is gone.  My good frien' Mirepoix is
+jus' leaving for London; he take' many risk' for my sake; his
+hairdresser die before he start', so I travel as that poor barber.
+But my cousin is a man to be afraid of when he is angry, even in
+England, and I mus' not get my Mirepoix in trouble.  I mus' not be
+discover' till my cousin is ready to laugh about it all and make
+it a joke.  And there may be spies; so I change my name again,
+and come to Bath to amuse my retreat with a little gaming - I am
+al - ways fond of that.  But three day' ago M. le Marquis send me
+a courier to say that my brother, who know where I had run away,
+is come from France to say that my cousin is appease'; he need me
+for his little theatre, the play cannot go on.  I do not need to
+espouse mademoiselle.  All shall be forgiven if I return, and my
+brother and M. de Mirepoix will meet me in Bath to felicitate.
+
+"There is one more thing to say, that is all.  I have said I learn'
+a secret, and use it to make a man introduce me if I will not tell.
+He has absolve' me of that promise.  My frien's, I had not the wish
+to ruin that man.  I was not receive'; Meestaire Nash had reboff me;
+I had no other way excep' to use this fellow.  So I say, 'Take me
+to Lady Malbourne's ball as "Chateaurien."'  I throw off my wig,
+and shave, and behol', I am M. le Duc de Castle Nowhere.  Ha, ha!
+You see?"
+
+The young man's manner suddenly changed.  He became haughty,
+menacing.  He stretched out his arm, and pointed at Winterset.  "Now
+I am no 'Beaucaire,' messieurs.  I am a French gentleman.  The man
+who introduce' me at the price of his honor, and then betray' me to
+redeem it, is that coward, that card-cheat there!"
+
+Winterset made a horrible effort to laugh.  The gentlemen who
+surrounded him fell away as from pestilence.  "A French gentleman!"
+he sneered savagely, and yet fearfully.  "I don't know who you are.
+Hide behind as many toys and ribbons as you like; I'll know the
+name of the man who dares bring such a charge!"
+
+"Sir!" cried de Mirepoix sharply, advancing a step towards him; but
+he checked himself at once.  He made a low bow of state, first to
+the young Frenchman, then to Lady Mary and the company.  "Permit me,
+Lady Mary and gentlemen," he said.  "to assume the honor of
+presenting you to His Highness, Prince Louis-Philippe de Valois,
+Duke of Orleans, Duke of Chartres, Duke of Nemours, Duke of
+Montpeti'sier, First Prince of the Blood Royal, First Peer of France,
+Lieutenant-General of French Infantry, Governor of Dauphine, Knight
+of the Golden Fleece, Grand Master of the Order of Notre Dame, of
+Mount Carmel, and of St. Lazarus in Jerusalem; and cousin to His
+most Christian Majesty, Louis the Fifteenth, King of France."
+
+"Those are a few of my brother's names," whispered Henri of
+Beaujolais to Molyneux.  "Old Mirepoix has the long breath, but it
+take' a strong man two day' to say all of them. I can suppose this
+Winterset know' now who bring the charge!"
+
+"Castle Nowhere!" gasped Beau Nash, falling back upon the burly
+prop of Mr. Bantison's shoulder.
+
+"The Duke of Orleans will receive a message from me within the
+hour!" said Winterset, as he made his way to the door.  His face was
+black with rage and shame.
+
+"I tol' you that I would not soil my hand with you," answered the
+young man.  "If you send a message no gentleman will bring it.
+Whoever shall bear it will receive a little beating from Francois."
+
+He stepped to Lady Mary's side.  Her head was bent low, her face
+averted.  She seemed to breathe with difficulty, and leaned heavily
+upon a chair.  "Monseigneur," she faltered in a half whisper, "can
+you - forgive me?  It is a bitter - mistake-I have made.  Forgive."
+
+"Forgive?" he answered, and his voice was as broken as hers; but he
+went on, more firmly: "It is - nothing - less than nothing.  There
+is - only jus' one - in the - whole worl' who would not have treat'
+me the way that you treat' me.  It is to her that I am goin' to make
+reparation.  You know something, Henri?  I am not goin' back only
+because the king forgive' me.  I am goin' to please him; I am goin'
+to espouse mademoiselle, our cousin.  My frien's, I ask your
+felicitations."
+
+"And the king does not compel him!" exclaimed young Henri.
+
+"Henri, you want to fight me?" cried his brother sharply.  "Don'
+you think the King of France is a wiser man than me?"
+
+He offered his hand to Lady Mary.  "Mademoiselle is fatigue'.  Will
+she honor me?"
+
+He walked with her to the door.  Her hand fluttering faintly in his.
+>From somewhere about the garments of one of them a little cloud of
+faded rose-leaves fell, and lay strewn on the floor behind them. He
+opened the door, and the lights shone on a multitude of eager faces
+turned toward it.  There was a great hum of voices, and, over all,
+the fiddles wove a wandering air, a sweet French song of the voyageur.
+
+He bowed very low, as, with fixed and glistening eyes, Lady Mary
+Carlisle, the Beauty of Bath, passed slowly by him and went out of
+the room.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext Monsieur Beaucaire, by Booth Tarkington
+
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