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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]
+
+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
+
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