Lord Tony's Wife: An Adventure of the Scarlet Pimpernel

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

  CHAPTER III

  THE ASSEMBLY ROOMS

  I

  The sigh of satisfaction was quite unmistakable.

  It could be heard from end to end, from corner to corner of thebuilding. It sounded above the din of the orchestra who had justattacked with vigour the opening bars of a schottische, above thebrouhaha of moving dancers and the frou-frou of skirts: it travelledfrom the small octagon hall, through the central salon to the tea-room,the ball-room and the card-room: it reverberated from the gallery in theball-room to the maids' gallery: it distracted the ladies from theirgossip and the gentlemen from their cards.

  It was a universal, heartfelt "Ah!" of intense and pleasurablesatisfaction.

  Sir Percy Blakeney and his lady had just arrived. It was close onmidnight, and the ball had positively languished. What was a ballwithout the presence of Sir Percy? His Royal Highness too had beenexpected earlier than this. But it was not thought that he would come atall, despite his promise, if the spoilt pet of Bath society remainedunaccountably absent; and the Assembly Rooms had worn an air of woe evenin the face of the gaily dressed throng which filled every vast room inits remotest angle.

  But now Sir Percy Blakeney had arrived, just before the clocks hadstruck midnight, and exactly one minute before His Royal Highness droveup himself from the Royal Apartments. Lady Blakeney was looking moreradiant and beautiful than ever before, so everyone remarked, when a fewmoments later she appeared in the crowded ball-room on the arm of HisRoyal Highness and closely followed by my lord Anthony Dewhurst and bySir Percy himself, who had the young Duchess of Flintshire on his arm.

  "What do you mean, you incorrigible rogue," her Grace was saying withplayful severity to her cavalier, "by coming so late to the ball?Another two minutes and you would have arrived after His Royal Highnesshimself: and how would you have justified such solecism, I would like toknow."

  "By swearing that thoughts of your Grace had completely addled my poorbrain," he retorted gaily, "and that in the mental contemplation of suchcharms I forgot time, place, social duties, everything."

  "Even the homage due to truth," she laughed. "Cannot you for once inyour life be serious, Sir Percy?"

  "Impossible, dear lady, whilst your dainty hand rests upon mine arm."

  II

  It was not often that His Royal Highness graced Bath with his presence,and the occasion was made the excuse for quite exceptional gaiety andbrilliancy. The new fashions of this memorable year of 1793 had defiedthe declaration of war and filtrated through from Paris: Londonmilliners had not been backward in taking the hint, and though most ofthe more starchy dowagers obstinately adhered to the pre-warfashions--the huge hooped skirts, stiff stomachers, pointed waists,voluminous panniers and monumental head erections--the young and smartmatrons were everywhere to be seen in the new gracefully flowing skirtsinnocent of steel constructions, the high waist line, the pouterpigeon-like draperies over their pretty bosoms.

  Her Grace of Flintshire looked ravishing with her curly fair hairentirely free from powder, and Lady Betty Draitune's waist seemed to benestling under her arm-pits. Of course Lady Blakeney wore the verylatest thing in striped silks and gossamer-like muslin and lace, and itwas hard to enumerate all the pretty debutantes and young brides whofluttered about the Assembly Rooms this night.

  And gliding through that motley throng, bright-plumaged like a swarm ofbutterflies, there were a few figures dressed in sober blacks andgreys--the _emigres_ over from France--men, women, young girls andgilded youth from out that seething cauldron of revolutionaryFrance--who had shaken the dust of that rampant demagogism from offtheir buckled shoes, taking away with them little else but their lives.Mostly chary of speech, grave in their demeanour, bearing upon their wanfaces traces of that horror which had seized them when they saw all thetraditions of their past tottering around them, the proletariat whomthey had despised turning against them with all the fury of caged beastslet loose, their kindred and friends massacred, their King and Queenmurdered. The shelter and security which hospitable England had extendedto them, had not altogether removed from their hearts the awful sense ofterror and of gloom.

  Many of them had come to Bath because the more genial climate of theWest of England consoled them for the inclemencies of London's fogs.Received with open arms and with that lavish hospitality which therefugees and the oppressed had already learned to look for in England,they had gradually allowed themselves to be drawn into the fashionablelife of the gay little city. The Comtesse de Tournai was here and herdaughter, Lady Ffoulkes, Sir Andrew's charming and happy bride, and M.Paul Deroulede and his wife--beautiful Juliette Deroulede with thestrange, haunted look in her large eyes, as of one who has lookedclosely on death; and M. le duc de Kernogan with his exquisite daughter,whose pretty air of seriousness and of repose sat so quaintly upon heryoung face. But every one remarked as soon as M. le duc entered therooms that M. Martin-Roget was not in attendance upon Mademoiselle,which was quite against the order of things; also that M. le ducappeared to keep a more sharp eye than usual upon his daughter inconsequence, and that he asked somewhat anxiously if milor AnthonyDewhurst was in the room, and looked obviously relieved when the replywas in the negative.

  At which trifling incident every one who was in the know smiled andwhispered, for M. le duc made it no secret that he favoured his owncompatriot's suit for Mademoiselle Yvonne's hand rather than that of mylord Tony--which--as old Euclid has it--is absurd.

  III

  But with the arrival of the royal party M. de Kernogan's troubles began.To begin with, though M. Martin-Roget had not arrived, my lord Tonyundoubtedly had. He had come in, in the wake of Lady Blakeney, but verysoon he began wandering round the room obviously in search of some one.Immediately there appeared to be quite a conspiracy among the young folkin the ball-room to keep both Lord Tony's and Mlle. Yvonne's movementshidden from the prying eyes of M. le duc: and anon His Royal Highness,after a comprehensive survey of the ball-room and a few gracious wordsto his more intimate circle, wandered away to the card-room, and as luckwould have it he claimed M. le duc de Kernogan for a partner at faro.

  Now M. le duc was a courtier of the old regime: to have disobeyed theroyal summons would in his eyes have been nothing short of a crime. Hefollowed the royal party to the card-room, and on his way thither hadone gleam of comfort in that he saw Lady Blakeney sitting on a sofa inthe octagon hall engaged in conversation with his daughter, whilst LordAnthony Dewhurst was nowhere in sight.

  However, the gleam of comfort was very brief, for less than a quarter ofan hour after he had sat down at His Highness' table, Lady Blakeney cameinto the card-room and stood thereafter for some little while closebeside the Prince's chair. The next hour after that was one of specialmartyrdom for the anxious father, for he knew that his daughter was inall probability sitting out in a specially secluded corner in thecompany of my lord Tony.

  If only Martin-Roget were here!

  IV

  Martin-Roget with the eagle eyes and the airs of an accredited suitorwould surely have intervened when my lord Tony in the face of the wholebrilliant assembly in the ball-room, drew Mlle. de Kernogan into theseclusion of the recess underneath the gallery.

  My lord Tony was never very glib of tongue. That peculiar dignifiedshyness which is one of the chief characteristics of well-bredEnglishmen caused him to be tongue-tied when he had most to say. It wasjust with gesture and an appealing pressure of his hand upon her armthat he persuaded Yvonne de Kernogan to sit down beside him on the sofain the remotest and darkest corner of the recess, and there she remainedbeside him silent and grave for a moment or two, and stole timid glancesfrom time to time through the veil of her lashes at thefinely-chiselled, expressive face of her young English lover.

  He was pining to put a question to her, and so great was his excitementthat his tongue refused him service, and she, knowing what was hoveringon his lips, would not help him out, but a humorous twinkle in her darkeyes, and a faint smile round her lips lit up the habitual seriousness
of her young face.

  "Mademoiselle ..." he managed to stammer at last. "Mademoiselle Yvonne... you have seen Lady Blakeney?"

  "Yes," she replied demurely, "I have seen Lady Blakeney."

  "And ... and ... she told you?"

  "Yes. Lady Blakeney told me many things."

  "She told you that ... that.... In God's name, Mademoiselle Yvonne," headded desperately, "do help me out--it is cruel to tease me! Can't yousee that I'm nearly crazy with anxiety?"

  Then she looked up at him, her dark eyes glowing and brilliant, her faceshining with the light of a great tenderness.

  "Nay, milor," she said earnestly, "I had no wish to tease you. But youwill own 'tis a grave and serious step which Lady Blakeney suggestedthat I should take. I have had no time to think ... as yet."

  "But there is no time for thinking, Mademoiselle Yvonne," he saidnaively. "If you will consent.... Oh! you will consent, will you not?"he pleaded.

  She made no immediate reply, but gradually her hand which rested uponthe sofa stole nearer and then nearer to his; and with a quiver ofexquisite happiness his hand closed upon hers. The tips of his fingerstouched the smooth warm palm and poor Lord Tony had to close his eyesfor a moment as his sense of superlative ecstasy threatened to make himfaint. Slowly he lifted that soft white hand to his lips.

  "Upon my word, Yvonne," he said with quiet fervour, "you will never havecause to regret that you have trusted me."

  "I know that well, milor," she replied demurely.

  She settled down a shade or two closer to him still.

  They were now like two birds in a cosy nest--secluded from the rest ofthe assembly, who appeared to them like dream-figures flitting in someother world that had nothing to do with their happiness. The strains ofthe orchestra who had struck the measure of the first figure of acontredanse sounded like fairy-music, distant, unreal in their ears.Only their love was real, their joy in one another's company, theirhands clasped closely together!

  "Tell me," she said after awhile, "how it all came about. It is all soterribly sudden ... so exquisitely sudden. I was prepared of course ...but not so soon ... and certainly not to-night. Tell me just how ithappened."

  She spoke English quite fluently, with just a charming slight accent,which he thought the most adorable thing he had ever heard.

  "You see, dear heart," he replied, and there was a quiver of intensefeeling in his voice as he spoke, "there is a man who not only is thefriend whom I love best in all the world, but is also the one whom Itrust absolutely, more than myself. Two hours ago he sent for me andtold me that grave danger threatened you--threatened our love and ourhappiness, and he begged me to urge you to consent to a secret marriage... at once ... to-night."

  "And you think this ... this friend knew?"

  "I know," he replied earnestly, "that he knew, or he would not havespoken to me as he did. He knows that my whole life is in your exquisitehands--he knows that our happiness is somehow threatened by that manMartin-Roget. How he obtained that information I could not guess ... hehad not the time or the inclination to tell me. I flew to make allarrangements for our marriage to-night and prayed to God--as I havenever prayed in my life before--that you, dear heart, would deign toconsent."

  "How could I refuse when Lady Blakeney advised? She is the kindest anddearest friend I possess. She and your friend ought to know one another.Will you not tell me who he is?"

  "I will present him to you, dear heart, as soon as we are married," hereplied with awkward evasiveness. Then suddenly he exclaimed with boyishenthusiasm: "I can't believe it! I can't believe it! It is the mostextraordinary thing in the world...."

  "What is that, milor?" she asked.

  "That you should have cared for me at all. For of course you must care,or you wouldn't be sitting here with me now ... you would not haveconsented ... would you?"

  "You know that I do care, milor," she said in her grave quiet way. "Howcould it be otherwise?"

  "But I am so stupid and so slow," he said naively. "Why! look at me now.My heart is simply bursting with all that I want to say to you, but Ijust can't find the words, and I do nothing but talk rubbish and feelhow you must despise me."

  Once more that humorous little smile played for a moment round Yvonne deKernogan's serious mouth. She didn't say anything just then, but herdelicate fingers gave his hand an expressive squeeze.

  "You are not frightened?" he asked abruptly.

  "Frightened? Of what?" she rejoined.

  "At the step you are going to take?"

  "Would I take it," she retorted gently, "if I had any misgivings?"

  "Oh! if you had.... Do you know that even now ..." he continued clumsilyand haltingly, "now that I have realised just what it will mean to haveyou ... and just what it would mean to me, God help me--if I were tolose you ... well!... that even now I would rather go through that hellthan that you should feel the least bit doubtful or unhappy about itall."

  Again she smiled, gently, tenderly up into his eager, boyish face.

  "The only unhappiness," she said gravely, "that could ever overtake mein the future would be parting from you, milor."

  "Oh! God bless you for that, my dear! God bless you for that! But forpity's sake turn your dear eyes away from me or I vow I shall go crazywith joy. Men do go crazy with joy sometimes, you know, and I feel thatin another moment I shall stand up and shout at the top of my voice toall the people in the room that within the next few hours the loveliestgirl in all the world is going to be my wife."

  "She certainly won't be that, if you do shout it at the top of yourvoice, milor, for father would hear you and there would be an end to ourbeautiful adventure."

  "It will be a beautiful adventure, won't it?" he sighed with unconcealedecstasy.

  "So beautiful, my dear lord," she replied with gentle earnestness, "soperfect, in fact, that I am almost afraid something must happenpresently to upset it all."

  "Nothing can happen," he assured her. "M. Martin-Roget is not here, andHis Royal Highness is even now monopolising M. le duc de Kernogan sothat he cannot get away."

  "Your friend must be very clever to manipulate so many strings on ourbehalf!"

  "It is long past midnight now, sweetheart," he said with suddenirrelevance.

  "Yes, I know. I have been watching the time: and I have already thoughteverything out for the best. I very often go home from balls and routsin the company of Lady Ffoulkes and sleep in her house those nights.Father is always quite satisfied, when I do that, and to-night he willbe doubly satisfied feeling that I shall be taken away from yoursociety. Lady Ffoulkes is in the secret, of course, so Lady Blakeneytold me, and she will be ready for me in a few minutes now: she'll takeme home with her and there I will change my dress and rest for awhile,waiting for the happy hour. She will come to the church with me and then... oh then! Oh! my dear milor!" she added suddenly with a deep sighwhilst her whole face became irradiated with a light of intensehappiness, "as you say it is the most wonderful thing in all theworld--this--our beautiful adventure together."

  "The parson will be ready at half-past six, dear heart, it was theearliest hour that I could secure ... after that we go at once to yourchurch and the priest will tie up any loose threads which our Englishparson failed to make tight. After those two ceremonies we shall be verymuch married, shan't we?... and nothing can come between us, dear heart,can it?" he queried with a look of intense anxiety on his young face.

  "Nothing," she replied. Then she added with a short sigh: "Poor father!"

  "Dear heart, he will only fret for a little while. I don't believe hecan really want you to marry that man Martin-Roget. It is just obstinacyon his part. He can't have anything against me really ... save of coursethat I am not clever and that I shall never do anything very big in theworld ... except to love you, Yvonne, with my whole heart and soul andwith every fibre and muscle in me.... Oh! I'll do that," he added withboyish enthusiasm, "better than anyone else in all the world could do!And your father will, I'll be bound, forgive me for st
ealing you, whenhe sees that you are happy, and contented, and have everything you wantand ... and...."

  As usual Lord Tony's eloquence was not equal to all that it should haveexpressed. He blushed furiously and with a quaint, shy gesture, passedhis large, well-shaped hand over his smooth, brown hair. "I am not much,I know," he continued with a winning air of self-deprecation, "and youare far above me as the stars--you are so wonderful, so clever, soaccomplished and I am nothing at all ... but ... but I have plenty ofhigh-born connexions, and I have plenty of money and influentialfriends ... and ... and Sir Percy Blakeney, who is the mostaccomplished and finest gentleman in England, calls me his friend."

  She smiled at his eagerness. She loved him for his clumsy little ways,his halting speech, that big loving heart of his which was too full offine and noble feelings to find vent in mere words.

  "Have you ever met a finer man in all the world?" he addedenthusiastically.

  Yvonne de Kernogan smiled once more. Her recollections of Sir PercyBlakeney showed her an elegant man of the world, whose mind seemedchiefly occupied on the devising and the wearing of exquisite clothes,in the uttering of lively witticisms for the entertainment of his royalfriend and the ladies of his entourage: it showed her a man of greatwealth and vast possessions who seemed willing to spend both in the merepursuit of pleasures. She liked Sir Percy Blakeney well enough, but shecould not understand clever and charming Marguerite Blakeney's adorationfor her inane and foppish husband, nor the whole-hearted admirationopenly lavished upon him by men like Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, my lordHastings, and others. She would gladly have seen her own dear milorchoose a more sober and intellectual friend. But then she loved him forhis marvellous power of whole-hearted friendship, for his loyalty tothose he cared for, for everything in fact that made up the sum total ofhis winning personality, and she pinned her faith on that othermysterious friend whose individuality vastly intrigued her.

  "I am more interested in your anonymous friend," she said quaintly,"than in Sir Percy Blakeney. But he too is kindness itself and LadyBlakeney is an angel. I like to think that the happiest days of mylife--our honeymoon, my dear lord--will be spent in their house."

  "Blakeney has lent me Combwich Hall for as long as we like to staythere. We'll drive thither directly after the service, dear heart, andthen we'll send a courier to your father and ask for his blessing andhis forgiveness."

  "Poor father!" sighed Yvonne again. But evidently compassion for thefather whom she had elected to deceive did not weigh over heavily in thebalance of her happiness. Her little hand once more stole like a timidand confiding bird into the shelter of his firm grasp.

  V

  In the card-room at His Highness' table Sir Percy Blakeney was holdingthe bank and seemingly luck was dead against him. Around the varioustables the ladies stood about, chattering and hindering the players.Nothing appeared serious to-night, not even the capricious chances ofhazard.

  His Royal Highness was in rare good humour, for he was winningprodigiously.

  Her Grace of Flintshire placed her perfumed and beringed hand upon SirPercy Blakeney's shoulder; she stood behind his chair, chatteringincessantly in a high flutey treble just like a canary. Blakeney vowedthat she was so ravishing that she had put Dame Fortune to flight.

  "You have not yet told us, Sir Percy," she said roguishly, "how you cameto arrive so late at the ball."

  "Alas, madam," he sighed dolefully, "'twas the fault of my cravat."

  "Your cravat?"

  "Aye indeed! You see I spent the whole of to-day in perfecting my newmethod for tying a butterfly bow, so as to give the neck an appearanceof utmost elegance with a minimum of discomfort. Lady Blakeney will bearme out when I say that I set my whole mind to my task. Was I not busyall day m'dear?" he added, making a formal appeal to Marguerite, whostood immediately behind His Highness' chair, and with her luminouseyes, full of merriment and shining with happiness fixed upon herhusband.

  "You certainly spent a considerable time in front of the looking-glass,"she said gaily, "with two valets in attendance and my lord Tony aninterested spectator in the proceedings."

  "There now!" rejoined Sir Percy triumphantly, "her ladyship's testimonythoroughly bears me out. And now you shall see what Tony says on thematter. Tony! Where's Tony!" he added as his lazy grey eyes sought thebrilliant crowd in the card-room. "Tony, where the devil are you?"

  There was no reply, and anon Sir Percy's merry gaze encountered that ofM. le duc de Kernogan who, dressed in sober black, looked strangelyconspicuous in the midst of this throng of bright-coloured butterflies,and whose grave eyes, as they rested on the gorgeous figure of theEnglish exquisite, held a world of contempt in their glance.

  "Ah! M. le duc," continued Blakeney, returning that scornful look withhis habitual good-humoured one, "I had not noticed that mademoiselleYvonne was not with you, else I had not thought of inquiring so loudlyfor my friend Tony."

  "My lord Antoine is dancing with my daughter, Sir Percy," said the otherman gravely, in excellent if somewhat laboured English, "he had mypermission to ask her."

  "And is a thrice happy man in consequence," retorted Blakeney lightly,"though I fear me M. Martin-Roget's wrath will descend upon my poorTony's head with unexampled vigour in consequence."

  "M. Martin-Roget is not here this evening," broke in the Duchess, "andmethought," she added in a discreet whisper, "that my lord Tony was allthe happier for his absence. The two young people have spent aconsiderable time together under the shadow of the gallery in theball-room, and, if I mistake not, Lord Tony is making the most of histime."

  She talked very volubly and with a slight North-country brogue which nodoubt made it a little difficult for the stranger to catch her everyword. But evidently M. le duc had understood the drift of what she said,for now he rejoined with some acerbity:

  "Mlle. de Kernogan is too well educated, I hope, to allow the attentionsof any gentleman, against her father's will."

  "Come, come, M. de Kernogan," here interposed His Royal Highness witheasy familiarity, "Lord Anthony Dewhurst is the son of my old friend theMarquis of Atiltone: one of our most distinguished families in thiscountry, who have helped to make English history. He has moreoverinherited a large fortune from his mother, who was a Cruche of Crewkerneand one of the richest heiresses in the land. He is a splendid fellow--afine sportsman, a loyal gentleman. His attentions to any young lady,however high-born, can be but flattering--and I should say welcome tothose who have her future welfare at heart."

  But in response to this gracious tirade, M. le duc de Kernogan bowedgravely, and his stern features did not relax as he said coldly:

  "Your Royal Highness is pleased to take an interest in the affairs of mydaughter. I am deeply grateful."

  There was a second's awkward pause, for every one felt that despite hisobvious respect and deference M. le duc de Kernogan had endeavoured toinflict a snub upon the royal personage, and one or two hot-headed youngfops in the immediate entourage even muttered the word: "Impertinence!"inaudibly through their teeth. Only His Royal Highness appeared not tonotice anything unusual or disrespectful in M. le duc's attitude. Itseemed as if he was determined to remain good-humoured and pleasant. Atany rate he chose to ignore the remark which had offended the ears ofhis entourage. Only those who stood opposite to His Highness, on theother side of the card table, declared afterwards that the Prince hadfrowned and that a haughty rejoinder undoubtedly hovered on his lips.

  Be that as it may, he certainly did not show the slightest sign ofill-humour: quite gaily and unconcernedly he scooped up his winningswhich Sir Percy Blakeney, who held the Bank, was at this moment pushingtowards him.

  "Don't go yet, M. de Kernogan," he said as the Frenchman made a movementto work his way out of the crowd, feeling no doubt that the atmosphereround him had become somewhat frigid if not exactly inimical, "don't goyet, I beg of you. _Pardi!_ Can't you see that you have been bringing meluck? As a rule Blakeney, who can so well afford to lose, has thedevil's own good fortune, but to-nigh
t I have succeeded in getting someof my own back from him. Do not, I entreat you, break the run of my luckby going."

  "Oh, Monseigneur," rejoined the old courtier suavely, "how can my poorpresence influence the gods, who of a surety always preside over yourHighness' fortunes?"

  "Don't attempt to explain it, my dear sir," quoth the Prince gaily. "Ionly know that if you go now, my luck may go with you and I shall blameyou for my losses."

  "Oh! in that case, Monseigneur...."

  "And with all that, Blakeney," continued His Highness, once more takingup the cards and turning to his friend, "remember that we still awaityour explanation as to your coming so late to the ball."

  "An omission, your Royal Highness," rejoined Blakeney, "an absence ofmind brought about by your severity, and that of Her Grace. The troublewas that all my calculations with regard to the exact adjustment of thebutterfly bow were upset when I realised that the set of the present daywaistcoat would not harmonise with it. Less than two hours before I wasdue to appear at this ball my mind had to make a complete _volte-face_in the matter of cravats. I became bewildered, lost, utterly confused. Ihave only just recovered, and one word of criticism on my final effortswould plunge me now into the depths of despair."

  "Blakeney, you are absolutely incorrigible," retorted His Highness witha laugh. "M. le duc," he added, once more turning to the grave Frenchmanwith his wonted graciousness, "I pray you do not form your judgment onthe gilded youth of England by the example of my friend Blakeney. Someof us can be serious when occasion demands, you know."

  "Your Highness is pleased to jest," said M. de Kernogan stiffly. "Whatgreater occasion for seriousness can there be than the present one.True, England has never suffered as France is suffering now, but shehas engaged in a conflict against the most powerful democracy the worldhas ever known, she has thrown down the gauntlet to a set of humanbeasts of prey who are as determined as they are ferocious. England willnot emerge victorious from this conflict, Monseigneur, if her sons donot realise that war is not mere sport and that victory can only beattained by the sacrifice of levity and of pleasure."

  He had dropped into French in response to His Highness' remark, in orderto express his thoughts more accurately. The Prince--a little bored nodoubt--seemed disinclined to pursue the subject. Nevertheless, it seemedas if once again he made a decided effort not to show ill-humour. Heeven gave a knowing wink--a wink!--in the direction of his friendBlakeney and of Her Grace as if to beg them to set the ball ofconversation rolling once more along a smoother--a less boring--path. Hewas obviously quite determined not to release M. de Kernogan fromattendance near his royal person.

  VI

  As usual Sir Percy threw himself in the breach, filling the sudden pausewith his infectious laugh:

  "La!" he said gaily, "how beautifully M. le duc does talk. Ffoulkes," headded, addressing Sir Andrew, who was standing close by, "I'll wager youten pounds to a pinch of snuff that you couldn't deliver yourself ofsuch splendid sentiments, even in your own native lingo."

  "I won't take you, Blakeney," retorted Sir Andrew with a laugh. "I'm nogood at peroration."

  "You should hear our distinguished guest M. Martin-Roget on the samesubject," continued Sir Percy with mock gravity. "By Gad! can't he talk?I feel a d----d worm when he talks about our national levity, our insaneworship of sport, our ... our ... M. le duc," he added with becomingseriousness and in atrocious French, "I appeal to you. Does not M.Martin-Roget talk beautifully?"

  "M. Martin-Roget," replied the duc gravely, "is a man of marvellouseloquence, fired by overwhelming patriotism. He is a man who mustcommand respect wherever he goes."

  "You have known him long, M. le duc?" queried His Royal Highnessgraciously.

  "Indeed not very long, Monseigneur. He came over as an _emigre_ fromBrest some three months ago, hidden in a smuggler's ship. He had beendenounced as an aristocrat who was furthering the cause of the royalistsin Brittany by helping them plentifully with money, but he succeeded inescaping, not only with his life, but also with the bulk of hisfortune."

  "Ah! M. Martin-Roget is rich?"

  "He is sole owner of a rich banking business in Brest, Monseigneur,which has an important branch in America and correspondents all overEurope. Monseigneur the Bishop of Brest recommended him specially to mynotice in a very warm letter of introduction, wherein he speaks of M.Martin-Roget as a gentleman of the highest patriotism and integrity.Were I not quite satisfied as to M. Martin-Roget's antecedents andpresent connexions I would not have ventured to present him to yourHighness."

  "Nor would you have accepted him as a suitor for your daughter, M. leduc, _c'est entendu_!" concluded His Highness urbanely. "M.Martin-Roget's wealth will no doubt cover his lack of birth."

  "There are plenty of high-born gentlemen devoted to the royalist cause,Monseigneur," rejoined the duc in his grave, formal manner. "But themost just and purest of causes must at times be helped with money. TheVendeens in Brittany, the Princes at Coblentz are all sorely in need offunds...."

  "And M. Martin-Roget son-in-law of M. le duc de Kernogan is more likelyto feed those funds than M. Martin-Roget the plain business man who hasno aristocratic connexions," concluded His Royal Highness dryly. "Buteven so, M. le duc," he added more gravely, "surely you cannot be soabsolutely certain as you would wish that M. Martin-Roget's antecedentsare just as he has told you. Monseigneur the Bishop of Brest may haveacted in perfect good faith...."

  "Monseigneur the Bishop of Brest, your Highness, is a man who has ourcause, the cause of our King and of our Faith, as much at heart as Ihave myself. He would know that on his recommendation I would trust anyman absolutely. He was not like to make careless use of such knowledge."

  "And you are quite satisfied that the worthy Bishop did not act undersome dire pressure ...?"

  "Quite satisfied, Monseigneur," replied the duc firmly. "What pressurecould there be that would influence a prelate of such high integrity asMonseigneur the Bishop of Brest?"

  VII

  There was silence for a moment or two, during which the heavy bracketclock over the door struck the first hour after midnight. His RoyalHighness looked round at Lady Blakeney, and she gave him a smile and analmost imperceptible nod. Sir Andrew Ffoulkes had in the meanwhilequietly slipped away.

  "I understand," said His Royal Highness quite gravely, turning back toM. le duc, "and I must crave your pardon, sir, for what must have seemedto you an indiscretion. You have given me a very clear expose of thesituation. I confess that until to-night it had seemed to me--and to allyour friends, Monsieur, a trifle obscure. In fact, it had been myintention to intercede with you in favour of my young friend LordAnthony Dewhurst, who of a truth is deeply enamoured of your daughter."

  "Though your Highness' wishes are tantamount to a command, yet would Ihumbly assert that my wishes with regard to my daughter are based uponmy loyalty and my duty to my Sovereign King Louis XVII, whom may Godguard and protect, and that therefore it is beyond my power now tomodify them."

  "May God trounce you for an obstinate fool," murmured His Highness inEnglish, and turning his head away so that the other should not hearhim. But aloud and with studied graciousness he said:

  "M. le duc, will you not take a hand at hazard? My luck is turning, andI have faith in yours. We must fleece Blakeney to-night. He has hadSatan's own luck these past few weeks. Such good fortune becomespositively revolting."

  There was no more talk of Mlle. de Kernogan after that. Indeed herfather felt that her future had already been discussed far too freely byall these well-wishers who of a truth were not a little indiscreet. Hethought that the manners and customs of good society were very peculiarhere in this fog-ridden England. What business was it of all thesehigh-born ladies and gentlemen--of His Royal Highness himself for thatmatter--what plans he had made for Yvonne's future? Martin-Roget was_bourgeois_ by birth, but he was vastly rich and had promised to pour acouple of millions into the coffers of the royalist army if Mlle. deKernogan became his wife. A couple of millions with mo
re to follow, nodoubt, and a loyal adherence to the royalist cause was worth these daysall the blue blood that flowed in my lord Anthony Dewhurst's veins.

  So at any rate thought M. le duc this night, while His Royal Highnesskept him at cards until the late hours of the morning.