The Adventures of Gerard

Chapter 5

How the Brigadier Triumphed in England

--

I have told you, my friends, how I triumphed over the English at

the fox-hunt when I pursued the animal so fiercely that even the

herd of trained dogs was unable to keep up, and alone with my own

hand I put him to the sword. Perhaps I have said too much of the

matter, but there is a thrill in the triumphs of sport which even

warfare cannot give, for in warfare you share your successes with

your regiment and your army, but in sport it is you yourself

unaided who have won the laurels. It is an advantage which the

English have over us that in all classes they take great interest

in every form of sport. It may be that they are richer than we,

or it may be that they are more idle: but I was surprised when I

was a prisoner in that country to observe how widespread was this

feeling, and how much it filled the minds and the lives of the

people. A horse that will run, a c**k that will fight, a dog

that will kill rats, a man that will box--they would turn away

from the Emperor in all his glory in order to look upon any of

these.

I could tell you many stories of English sport, for I saw much of

it during the time that I was the guest of Lord Rufton, after the

order for my exchange had come to England. There were months

before I could be sent back to France, and during this time I

stayed with this good Lord Rufton at his beautiful house of High

Combe, which is at the northern end of Dartmoor. He had ridden

with the police when they had pursued me from Princetown, and he

had felt toward me when I was overtaken as I would myself have

felt had I, in my own country, seen a brave and debonair soldier

without a friend to help him. In a word, he took me to his

house, clad me, fed me, and treated me as if he had been my

brother. I will say this of the English, that they were always

generous enemies, and very good people with whom to fight.

In the Peninsula the Spanish outposts would present their muskets

at ours, but the British their brandy-flasks. And of all these

generous men there was none who was the equal of this admirable

milord, who held out so warm a hand to an enemy in distress.

Ah! what thoughts of sport it brings back to me, the very name of

High Combe! I can see it now, the long, low brick house, warm

and ruddy, with white plaster pillars before the door. He was a

great sportsman, this Lord Rufton, and all who were about him

were of the same sort. But you will be pleased to hear that

there were few things in which I could not hold my own, and in

some I excelled. Behind the house was a wood in which pheasants

were reared, and it was Lord Rufton's joy to kill these birds,

which was done by sending in men to drive them out while he and

his friends stood outside and shot them as they passed. For my

part, I was more crafty, for I studied the habits of the bird,

and stealing out in the evening I was able to kill a number of

them as they roosted in the trees. Hardly a single shot was

wasted, but the keeper was attracted by the sound of the firing,

and he implored me in his rough English fashion to spare those

that were left. That night I was able to place twelve birds as a

surprise upon Lord Rufton's supper- table, and he laughed until

he cried, so overjoyed was he to see them. "Gad, Gerard, you'll

be the death of me yet!" he cried. Often he said the same thing,

for at every turn I amazed him by the way in which I entered into

the sports of the English.

There is a game called cricket which they play in the summer, and

this also I learned. Rudd, the head gardener, was a famous

player of cricket, and so was Lord Rufton himself. Before the

house was a lawn, and here it was that Rudd taught me the game.

It is a brave pastime, a game for soldiers, for each tries to

strike the other with the ball, and it is but a small stick with

which you may ward it off. Three sticks behind show the spot

beyond which you may not retreat. I can tell you that it is no

game for children, and I will confess that, in spite of my nine

campaigns, I felt myself turn pale when first the ball flashed

past me. So swift was it that I had not time to raise my stick

to ward it off, but by good fortune it missed me and knocked down

the wooden pins which marked the boundary. It was for Rudd then

to defend himself and for me to attack. When I was a boy in

Gascony I learned to throw both far and straight, so that I made

sure that I could hit this gallant Englishman.

With a shout I rushed forward and hurled the ball at him. It

flew as swift as a bullet toward his ribs, but without a word he

swung his staff and the ball rose a surprising distance in the

air. Lord Rufton clapped his hands and cheered. Again the ball

was brought to me, and again it was for me to throw. This time

it flew past his head, and it seemed to me that it was his turn

to look pale.

But he was a brave man, this gardener, and again he faced me.

Ah, my friends, the hour of my triumph had come! It was a red

waistcoat that he wore, and at this I hurled the ball. You would

have said that I was a gunner, not a hussar, for never was so

straight an aim. With a despairing cry--the cry of the brave man

who is beaten --he fell upon the wooden pegs behind him, and they

all rolled upon the ground together. He was cruel, this English

milord, and he laughed so that he could not come to the aid of

his servant. It was for me, the victor, to rush forward to

embrace this intrepid player, and to raise him to his feet with

words of praise, and encouragement, and hope. He was in pain and

could not stand erect, yet the honest fellow confessed that there

was no accident in my victory. "He did it a-purpose! He did it

a-purpose!"

Again and again he said it. Yes, it is a great game this

cricket, and I would gladly have ventured upon it again but Lord

Rufton and Rudd said that it was late in the season, and so they

would play no more.

How foolish of me, the old, broken man, to dwell upon these

successes, and yet I will confess that my age has been very much

soothed and comforted by the memory of the women who have loved

me and the men whom I have overcome. It is pleasant to think

that five years afterward, when Lord Rufton came to Paris after

the peace, he was able to assure me that my name was still a

famous one in the north of Devonshire for the fine exploits that

I had performed. Especially, he said, they still talked over my

boxing match with the Honourable Baldock. It came about in this

way. Of an evening many sportsmen would assemble at the house of

Lord Rufton, where they would drink much wine, make wild bets,

and talk of their horses and their foxes. How well I remember

those strange creatures. Sir Barrington, Jack Lupton, of

Barnstable, Colonel Addison, Johnny Miller, Lord Sadler, and my

enemy, the Honourable Baldock. They were of the same stamp all

of them, drinkers, madcaps, fighters, gamblers, full of strange

caprices and extraordinary whims. Yet they were kindly fellows

in their rough fashion, save only this Baldock, a fat man, who

prided himself on his skill at the box-fight. It was he who, by

his laughter against the French because they were ignorant of

sport, caused me to challenge him in the very sport at which he

excelled. You will say that it was foolish, my friends, but the

decanter had passed many times, and the blood of youth ran hot in

my veins. I would fight him, this boaster; I would show him that

if we had not skill at least we had courage. Lord Rufton would

not allow it. I insisted. The others cheered me on and slapped

me on the back. "No, dash it, Baldock, he's our guest," said

Rufton. "It's his own doing," the other answered. "Look here,

Rufton, they can't hurt each other if they wear the mawleys,"

cried Lord Sadler. And so it was agreed.

What the mawleys were I did not know, but presently they brought

out four great puddings of leather, not unlike a fencing glove,

but larger. With these our hands were covered after we had

stripped ourselves of our coats and our waistcoats. Then the

table, with the glasses and decanters, was pushed into the corner

of the room, and behold us; face to face! Lord Sadler sat in the

arm-chair with a watch in his open hand. "Time!" said he.

I will confess to you, my friends, that I felt at that moment a

tremor such as none of my many duels have ever given me. With

sword or pistol I am at home, but here I only understood that I

must struggle with this fat Englishman and do what I could, in

spite of these great puddings upon my hands, to overcome him.

And at the very outset I was disarmed of the best weapon that was

left to me. "Mind, Gerard, no kicking!" said Lord Rufton in my

ear. I had only a pair of thin dancing slippers, and yet the man

was fat, and a few well-directed kicks might have left me the

victor. But there is an etiquette just as there is in fencing,

and I refrained. I looked at this Englishman and I wondered how

I should attack him. His ears were large and prominent. Could I

seize them I might drag him to the ground. I rushed in, but I

was betrayed by this flabby glove, and twice I lost my hold. He

struck me, but I cared little for his blows, and again I seized

him by the ear. He fell, and I rolled upon him and thumped his

head upon the ground.

How they cheered and laughed, these gallant Englishmen, and how

they clapped me on the back!

"Even money on the Frenchman," cried Lord Sadler.

"He fights foul," cried my enemy, rubbing his crimson ears. "He

savaged me on the ground."

"You must take your chance of that," said Lord Rufton, coldly.

"Time!" cried Lord Sadler, and once again we advanced to the

assault.

He was flushed, and his small eyes were as vicious as those of a

bull-dog. There was hatred on his face. For my part I carried

myself lightly and gaily. A French gentleman fights but he does

not hate. I drew myself up before him, and I bowed as I have

done in the duello.

There can be grace and courtesy as well as defiance in a bow; I

put all three into this one, with a touch of ridicule in the

shrug which accompanied it. It was at this moment that he struck

me. The room spun round me. I fell upon my back. But in an

instant I was on my feet again and had rushed to a close combat.

His ear, his hair, his nose, I seized them each in turn. Once

again the mad joy of the battle was in my veins. The old cry of

triumph rose to my lips. "Vive l'Empereur!" I yelled as I drove

my head into his stomach. He threw his arm round my neck, and

holding me with one hand he struck me with the other. I buried

my teeth in his arm, and he shouted with pain. "Call him off,

Rufton!" he screamed.

"Call him off, man! He's worrying me!" They dragged me away

from him. Can I ever forget it?--the laughter, the cheering, the

congratulations! Even my enemy bore me no ill-will, for he shook

me by the hand. For my part I embraced him on each cheek. Five

years afterward I learned from Lord Rufton that my noble bearing

upon that evening was still fresh in the memory of my English

friends.

It is not, however, of my own exploits in sport that I wish to

speak to you to-night, but it is of the Lady Jane Dacre and the

strange adventure of which she was the cause. Lady Jane Dacre

was Lord Rufton's sister and the lady of his household. I fear

that until I came it was lonely for her, since she was a

beautiful and refined woman with nothing in common with those who

were about her. Indeed, this might be said of many women in the

England of those days, for the men were rude and rough and

coarse, with boorish habits and few accomplishments, while the

women were the most lovely and tender that I have ever known. We

became great friends, the Lady Jane and I, for it was not

possible for me to drink three bottles of port after dinner like

those Devonshire gentlemen, and so I would seek refuge in her

drawing-room, where evening after evening she would play the

harpsichord and I would sing the songs of my own land. In those

peaceful moments I would find a refuge from the misery which

filled me, when I reflected that my regiment was left in the

front of the enemy without the chief whom they had learned to

love and to follow.

Indeed, I could have torn my hair when I read in the English

papers of the fine fighting which was going on in Portugal and on

the frontiers of Spain, all of which I had missed through my

misfortune in falling into the hands of Milord Wellington.

From what I have told you of the Lady Jane you will have guessed

what occurred, my friends. Etienne Gerard is thrown into the

company of a young and beautiful woman. What must it mean for

him? What must it mean for her? It was not for me, the guest,

the captive, to make love to the sister of my host. But I was

reserved.

I was discreet. I tried to curb my own emotions and to

discourage hers. For my own part I fear that I betrayed myself,

for the eye becomes more eloquent when the tongue is silent.

Every quiver of my fingers as I turned over her music-sheets told

her my secret. But she--she was admirable. It is in these

matters that women have a genius for deception. If I had not

penetrated her secret I should often have thought that she forgot

even that I was in the house. For hours she would sit lost in a

sweet melancholy, while I admired her pale face and her curls in

the lamp-light, and thrilled within me to think that I had moved

her so deeply. Then at last I would speak, and she would start

in her chair and stare at me with the most admirable pretence of

being surprised to find me in the room. Ah! how I longed to hurl

myself suddenly at her feet, to kiss her white hand, to assure

her that I had surprised her secret and that I would not abuse

her confidence.

But no, I was not her equal, and I was under her roof as a

castaway enemy. My lips were sealed. I endeavoured to imitate

her own wonderful affectation of indifference, but, as you may

think? I was eagerly alert for any opportunity of serving her.

One morning Lady Jane had driven in her phaeton to Okehampton,

and I strolled along the road which led to that place in the hope

that I might meet her on her return.

It was the early winter, and banks of fading fern sloped down to

the winding road. It is a bleak place this Dartmoor, wild and

rocky--a country of wind and mist.

I felt as I walked that it is no wonder Englishmen should suffer

from the spleen. My own heart was heavy within me, and I sat

upon a rock by the wayside looking out on the dreary view with my

thoughts full of trouble and foreboding. Suddenly, however, as I

glanced down the road, I saw a sight which drove everything else

from my mind, and caused me to leap to my feet with a cry of

astonishment and anger.

Down the curve of the road a phaeton was coming, the pony tearing

along at full gallop. Within was the very lady whom I had come

to meet. She lashed at the pony like one who endeavours to

escape from some pressing danger, glancing ever backward over her

shoulder. The bend of the road concealed from me what it was

that had alarmed her, and I ran forward not knowing what to

expect.

The next instant I saw the pursuer, and my amazement was

increased at the sight. It was a gentleman in the red coat of an

English fox-hunter, mounted on a great grey horse. He was

galloping as if in a race, and the long stride of the splendid

creature beneath him soon brought him up to the lady's flying

carriage. I saw him stoop and seize the reins of the pony, so as

to bring it to a halt. The next instant he was deep in talk with

the lady, he bending forward in his saddle and speaking eagerly,

she shrinking away from him as if she feared and loathed him.

You may think, my dear friends, that this was not a sight at

which I could calmly gaze. How my heart thrilled within me to

think that a chance should have been given to me to serve the

Lady Jane! I ran--oh, good Lord, how I ran! At last,

breathless, speechless, I reached the phaeton. The man glanced

up at me with his blue English eyes, but so deep was he in his

talk that he paid no heed to me, nor did the lady say a word.

She still leaned back, her beautiful pale face gazing up at him.

He was a good-looking fellow--tall, and strong, and brown; a pang

of jealousy seized me as I looked at him. He was talking low and

fast, as the English do when they are in earnest.

"I tell you, Jinny, it's you and only you that I love," said he.

"Don't bear malice, Jinny. Let by-gones be by-gones. Come now,

say it's all over."

"No, never, George, never!" she cried.

A dusky red suffused his handsome face. The man was furious.

"Why can't you forgive me, Jinny?"

"I can't forget the past."

"By George, you must! I've asked enough. It's time to order

now. I'll have my rights, d'ye hear?" His hand closed upon her

wrist.

At last my breath had returned to me.

"Madame," I said, as I raised my hat, "do I intrude, or is there

any possible way in which I can be of service to you?"

But neither of them minded me any more than if I had been a fly

who buzzed between them. Their eyes were locked together.

"I'll have my rights, I tell you. I've waited long enough."

"There's no use bullying, George."

"Do you give in?"

"No, never!"

"Is that your final answer?"

"Yes, it is."

He gave a bitter curse and threw down her hand.

"All right, my lady, we'll see about this."

"Excuse me, sir!" said I, with dignity.

"Oh, go to blazes!" he cried, turning on me with his furious

face. The next instant he had spurred his horse and was

galloping down the road once more.

Lady Jane gazed after him until he was out of sight, and I was

surprised to see that her face wore a smile and not a frown.

Then she turned to me and held out her hand.

"You are very kind, Colonel Gerard. You meant well, I am sure."

"Madame," said I, "if you can oblige me with the gentleman's name

and address I will arrange that he shall never trouble you

again."

"No scandal, I beg of you," she cried.

"Madame, I could not so far forget myself. Rest assured that no

lady's name would ever be mentioned by me in the course of such

an incident. In bidding me to go to blazes this gentleman has

relieved me from the embarrassment of having to invent a cause of

quarrel."

"Colonel Gerard," said the lady, earnestly, "you must give me

your word as a soldier and a gentleman that this matter goes no

farther, and also that you will say nothing to my brother about

what you have seen. Promise me!"

"If I must."

"I hold you to your word. Now drive with me to High Combe, and I

will explain as we go."

The first words of her explanation went into me like a

sabre-point.

"That gentleman," said she, "is my husband."

"Your husband!"

"You must have known that I was married." She seemed surprised

at my agitation.

"I did not know."

"This is Lord George Dacre. We have been married two years.

There is no need to tell you how he wronged me. I left him and

sought a refuge under my brother's roof. Up till to-day he has

left me there unmolested.

What I must above all things avoid is the chance of a duel

betwixt my husband and my brother. It is horrible to think of.

For this reason Lord Rufton must know nothing of this chance

meeting of to-day."

"If my pistol could free you from this annoyance ----"

"No, no, it is not to be thought of. Remember your promise,

Colonel Gerard. And not a word at High Combe of what you have

seen!"

Her husband! I had pictured in my mind that she was a young

widow. This brown-faced brute with his "go to blazes" was the

husband of this tender dove of a woman. Oh, if she would but

allow me to free her from so odious an encumbrance! There is no

divorce so quick and certain as that which I could give her. But

a promise is a promise, and I kept it to the letter. My mouth

was sealed.

In a week I was to be sent back from Plymouth to St. Malo, and it

seemed to me that I might never hear the sequel of the story.

And yet it was destined that it should have a sequel and that I

should play a very pleasing and honourable part in it.

It was only three days after the event which I have described

when Lord Rufton burst hurriedly into my room.

His face was pale and his manner that of a man in extreme

agitation.

"Gerard," he cried, "have you seen Lady Jane Dacre?"

I had seen her after breakfast and it was now mid-day.

"By Heaven, there's villainy here!" cried my poor friend, rushing

about like a madman. "The bailiff has been up to say that a

chaise and pair were seen driving full split down the Tavistock

Road. The blacksmith heard a woman scream as it passed his

forge. Jane has disappeared. By the Lord, I believe that she

has been kidnapped by this villain Dacre." He rang the bell

furiously. "Two horses, this instant!" he cried. "Colonel

Gerard, your pistols! Jane comes back with me this night from

Gravel Hanger or there will be a new master in High Combe Hall."

Behold us then within half an hour, like two knight- errants of

old, riding forth to the rescue of this lady in distress. It was

near Tavistock that Lord Dacre lived, and at every house and

toll-gate along the road we heard the news of the flying

post-chaise in front of us, so there could be no doubt whither

they were bound. As we rode Lord Rufton told me of the man whom

we were pursuing.

His name, it seems, was a household word throughout all England

for every sort of mischief. Wine, women, dice, cards, racing--in

all forms of debauchery he had earned for himself a terrible

name. He was of an old and noble family, and it had been hoped

that he had sowed his wild oats when he married the beautiful

Lady Jane Rufton.

For some months he had indeed behaved well, and then he had

wounded her feelings in their most tender part by some unworthy

liaison. She had fled from his house and taken refuge with her

brother, from whose care she had now been dragged once more,

against her will. I ask you if two men could have had a fairer

errand than that upon which Lord Rufton and myself were riding.

"That's Gravel Hanger," he cried at last, pointing with his crop,

and there on the green side of a hill was an old brick and timber

building as beautiful as only an English country-house can be.

"There's an inn by the park-gate, and there we shall leave our

horses," he added.

For my own part it seemed to me that with so just a cause we

should have done best to ride boldly up to his door and summon

him to surrender the lady. But there I was wrong. For the one

thing which every Englishman fears is the law. He makes it

himself, and when he has once made it it becomes a terrible

tyrant before whom the bravest quails. He will smile at breaking

his neck, but he will turn pale at breaking the law. It seems,

then, from what Lord Rufton told me as we walked through the

park, that we were on the wrong side of the law in this matter.

Lord Dacre was in the right in carrying off his wife, since she

did indeed belong to him, and our own position now was nothing

better than that of burglars and trespassers. It was not for

burglars to openly approach the front door. We could take the

lady by force or by craft, but we could not take her by right,

for the law was against us. This was what my friend explained to

me as we crept up toward the shelter of a shrubbery which was

close to the windows of the house. Thence we could examine this

fortress, see whether we could effect a lodgment in it, and,

above all, try to establish some communication with the beautiful

prisoner inside.

There we were, then, in the shrubbery, Lord Rufton and I, each

with a pistol in the pockets of our riding coats, and with the

most resolute determination in our hearts that we should not

return without the lady.

Eagerly we scanned every window of the wide-spread house.

Not a sign could we see of the prisoner or of anyone else; but on

the gravel drive outside the door were the deep- sunk marks of

the wheels of the chaise. There was no doubt that they had

arrived. Crouching among the laurel bushes we held a whispered

council of wary but a singular interruption brought it to an end.

Out of the door of the house there stepped a tall, flaxen- haired

man, such a figure as one would choose for the flank of a

Grenadier company. As he turned his brown face and his blue eyes

toward us I recognised Lord Dacre.

With long strides he came down the gravel path straight for the

spot where we lay.

"Come out, Ned!" he shouted; "you'll have the game- keeper

putting a charge of shot into you. Come out, man, and don't

skulk behind the bushes."

It was not a very heroic situation for us. My poor friend rose

with a crimson face. I sprang to my feet also and bowed with

such dignity as I could muster.

"Halloa! it's the Frenchman, is it?" said he, without returning

my bow. "I've got a crow to pluck with him already. As to you,

Ned, I knew you would be hot on our scent, and so I was looking

out for you. I saw you cross the park and go to ground in the

shrubbery. Come in, man, and let us have all the cards on the

table."

He seemed master of the situation, this handsome giant of a man,

standing at his ease on his own ground while we slunk out of our

hiding-place. Lord Rufton had said not a word, but I saw by his

darkened brow and his sombre eyes that the storm was gathering.

Lord Dacre led the way into the house, and we followed close at

his heels.

He ushered us himself into an oak-panelled sitting-room, closing

the door behind us. Then he looked me up and down with insolent

eyes.

"Look here, Ned," said he, "time was when an English family could

settle their own affairs in their own way.

What has this foreign fellow got to do with your sister and my

wife?"

"Sir," said I, "permit me to point out to you that this is not a

case merely of a sister or a wife, but that I am the friend of

the lady in question, and that I have the privilege which every

gentleman possesses of protecting a woman against brutality. It

is only by a gesture that I can show you what I think of you." I

had my riding glove in my hand, and I flicked him across the face

with it. He drew back with a bitter smile and his eyes were as

hard as flint.

"So you've brought your bully with you, Ned?" said he. "You

might at least have done your fighting yourself, if it must come

to a fight."

"So I will," cried Lord Rufton. "Here and now."

"When I've killed this swaggering Frenchman," said Lord Dacre.

He stepped to a side table and opened a brass-bound case. "By

Gad," said he, "either that man or I go out of this room feet

foremost. I meant well by you, Ned; I did, by George, but I'll

shoot this led- captain of yours as sure as my name's George

Dacre.

Take your choice of pistols, sir, and shoot across this table.

The barkers are loaded. Aim straight and kill me if you can, for

by the Lord if you don't, you're done."

In vain Lord Rufton tried to take the quarrel upon himself. Two

things were clear in my mind--one that the Lady Jane had feared

above all things that her husband and brother should fight, the

other that if I could but kill this big milord, then the whole

question would be settled forever in the best way. Lord Rufton

did not want him. Lady Jane did not want him. Therefore, I,

Etienne Gerard, their friend, would pay the debt of gratitude

which I owed them by freeing them of this encumbrance. But,

indeed, there was no choice in the matter, for Lord Dacre was as

eager to put a bullet into me as I could be to do the same

service to him. In vain Lord Rufton argued and scolded. The

affair must continue.

"Well, if you must fight my guest instead of myself, let it be

to-morrow morning with two witnesses," he cried, at last; "this

is sheer murder across the table."

"But it suits my humour, Ned," said Lord Dacre.

"And mine, sir," said I.

"Then I'll have nothing to do with it," cried Lord Rufton. "I

tell you, George, if you shoot Colonel Gerard under these

circumstances you'll find yourself in the dock instead of on the

bench. I won't act as second, and that's flat."

"Sir," said I, "I am perfectly prepared to proceed without a

second."

"That won't do. It's against the law," cried Lord Dacre. "Come,

Ned, don't be a fool. You see we mean to fight. Hang it, man,

all I want you to do is to drop a handkerchief."

"I'll take no part in it."

"Then I must find someone who will," said Lord Dacre.

He threw a cloth over the pistols which lay upon the table, and

he rang the bell. A footman entered. "Ask Colonel Berkeley if

he will step this way. You will find him in the billiard-room."

A moment later there entered a tall thin Englishman with a great

moustache, which was a rare thing amid that clean-shaven race. I

have heard since that they were worn only by the Guards and the

Hussars. This Colonel Berkeley was a guardsman. He seemed a

strange, tired, languid, drawling creature with a long black

cigar thrusting out, like a pole from a bush, amidst that immense

moustache. He looked from one to the other of us with true

English phlegm, and he betrayed not the slightest surprise when

he was told our intention.

"Quite so," said he; "quite so."

"I refuse to act, Colonel Berkeley," cried Lord Rufton.

"Remember, this duel cannot proceed without you, and I hold you

personally responsible for anything that happens."

This Colonel Berkeley appeared to be an authority upon the

question, for he removed the cigar from his mouth and he laid

down the law in his strange, drawling voice.

"The circumstances are unusual but not irregular, Lord Rufton,"

said he. "This gentleman has given a blow and this other

gentleman has received it. That is a clear issue. Time and

conditions depend upon the person who demands satisfaction. Very

good. He claims it here and now, across the table. He is acting

within his rights. I am prepared to accept the responsibility."

There was nothing more to be said. Lord Rufton sat moodily in

the corner with his brows drawn down and his hands thrust deep

into the pockets of his riding-breeches.

Colonel Berkeley examined the two pistols and laid them both in

the centre of the table. Lord Dacre was at one end and I at the

other, with eight feet of shining mahogany between us. On the

hearth-rug with his back to the fire, stood the tall colonel, his

handkerchief in his left hand, his cigar between two fingers of

his right.

"When I drop the handkerchief," said he, "you will pick up your

pistols and you will fire at your own convenience.

Are you ready?"

"Yes," we cried.

His hand opened and the handkerchief fell. I bent swiftly

forward and seized a pistol, but the table, as I have said, was

eight feet across, and it was easier for this long-armed milord

to reach the pistols than it was for me.

I had not yet drawn myself straight before he fired, and to this

it was that I owe my life. His bullet would have blown out my

brains had I been erect. As it was it whistled through my curls.

At the same instant, just as I threw up my own pistol to fire,

the door flew open and a pair of arms were thrown round me. It

was the beautiful, flushed, frantic face of Lady Jane which

looked up into mine.

"You sha'n't fire! Colonel Gerard, for my sake don't fire," she

cried. "It is a mistake, I tell you, a mistake, a mistake! He

is the best and dearest of husbands. Never again shall I leave

his side." Her hands slid down my arm and closed upon my pistol.

"Jane, Jane," cried Lord Rufton; "come with me.

You should not be here. Come away."

"It is all confoundedly irregular," said Colonel Berkeley.

"Colonel Gerard, you won't fire, will you? My heart would break

if he were hurt."

"Hang it all, Jinny, give the fellow fair play," cried Lord

Dacre. "He stood my fire like a man, and I won't see him

interfered with. Whatever happens I can't get worse than I

deserve."

But already there had passed between me and the lady a quick

glance of the eyes which told her everything.

Her hands slipped from my arm. "I leave my husband's life and my

own happiness to Colonel Gerard," said she.

How well she knew me, this admirable woman! I stood for an

instant irresolute, with the pistol c****d in my hand. My

antagonist faced me bravely, with no blenching of his sunburnt

face and no flinching of his bold, blue eyes.

"Come, come, sir, take your shot!" cried the colonel from the

mat.

"Let us have it, then," said Lord Dacre.

I would, at least, show them how completely his life was at the

mercy of my skill. So much I owed to my own self-respect. I

glanced round for a mark. The colonel was looking toward my

antagonist, expecting to see him drop. His face was sideways to

me, his long cigar projecting from his lips with an inch of ash

at the end of it.

Quick as a flash I raised my pistol and fired.

"Permit me to trim your ash, sir," said I, and I bowed with a

grace which is unknown among these islanders.

I am convinced that the fault lay with the pistol and not with my

aim. I could hardly believe my own eyes when I saw that I had

snapped off the cigar within half an inch of his lips. He stood

staring at me with the ragged stub of the cigar-end sticking out

from his singed mustache. I can see him now with his foolish,

angry eyes and his long, thin, puzzled face. Then he began to

talk. I have always said that the English are not really a

phlegmatic or a taciturn nation if you stir them out of their

groove. No one could have talked in a more animated way than

this colonel. Lady Jane put her hands over her ears.

"Come, come, Colonel Berkeley," said Lord Dacre, sternly, "you

forget yourself. There is a lady in the room."

The colonel gave a stiff bow.

"If Lady Dacre will kindly leave the room," said he,

"I will be able to tell this infernal little Frenchman what I

think of him and his monkey tricks."

I was splendid at that moment, for I ignored the words that he

had said and remembered only the extreme provocation.

"Sir," said I, "I freely offer you my apologies for this unhappy

incident. I felt that if I did not discharge my pistol Lord

Dacre's honour might feel hurt, and yet it was quite impossible

for me, after hearing what this lady has said, to aim it at her

husband. I looked round for a mark, therefore, and I had the

extreme misfortune to blow your cigar out of your mouth when my

intention had merely been to snuff the ash. I was betrayed by my

pistol. This is my explanation, sir, and if after listening to

my apologies you still feel that I owe you satisfaction, I need

not say that it is a request which I am unable to refuse."

It was certainly a charming attitude which I had assumed, and it

won the hearts of all of them. Lord Dacre stepped forward and

wrung me by the hand. "By George, sir," said he, "I never

thought to feel toward a Frenchman as I do to you. You're a man

and a gentleman, and I can't say more." Lord Rufton said

nothing, but his hand-grip told me all that he thought. Even

Colonel Berkeley paid me a compliment, and declared that he would

think no more about the unfortunate cigar.

And she--ah, if you could have seen the look she gave me, the

flushed cheek, the moist eye, the tremulous lip!

When I think of my beautiful Lady Jane it is at that moment that

I recall her. They would have had me stay to dinner, but you

will understand, my friends, that this was no time for either

Lord Rufton or myself to remain at Gravel Hanger. This

reconciled couple desired only to be alone. In the chaise he had

persuaded her of his sincere repentance, and once again they were

a loving husband and wife. If they were to remain so it was best

perhaps that I should go. Why should I unsettle this domestic

peace? Even against my own will my mere presence and appearance

might have their effect upon the lady. No, no, I must tear

myself away--even her persuasions were unable to make me stop.

Years afterward I heard that the household of the Dacres was

among the happiest in the whole country, and that no cloud had

ever come again to darken their lives. Yet I dare say if he

could have seen into his wife's mind--but there, I say no more!

A lady's secret is her own, and I fear that she and it are buried

long years ago in some Devonshire churchyard. Perhaps all that

gay circle are gone and the Lady Jane only lives now in the

memory of an old half-pay French brigadier. He at least can

never forget.