A SWORDSMAN 
 OP THE BRIGADE 
 
 M. O hAN NRACHAIN 
 
 '— iiiiiiirH »■ 
 
A SWORDSMAN OF THE BRIGADE 
 
«^ * * Jr^ r ' 
 
 MICHEAL O hANNRACHAIN 
 
A SWORDSMAN OF 
 THE BRIGADE 
 
 BY 
 
 MICHEAL OhANNRACHAIN 
 
 SANDS & COMPANY 
 
 EDINBURGH: 37 GEORGE STREET 
 
 LONDON : 15 KING STREET, COVENT GARDEN 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 To the memory of a father to whom I owe much, whose 
 life's quest is over, and to one other, my mother, who 
 whispered hope when days were black, I dedicate this 
 book. — The Author. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. 
 
 I. 
 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 VII. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 IX. 
 
 X. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 
 ONE NIGHT IN CATHAIR DOMHNAILL . 
 THE SPY AT " LE CHAT ROUGE " 
 SPEIER — THE CAPTURE OF THE STANDARD 
 THE MOUNTAIN AUBERGE 
 
 BETRAYED 
 
 FOOLED — I WIN THROUGH . 
 
 IN HOSPITAL — A MEMORY OF THE HOMELAND 
 
 O BRIAIN's STORY .... 
 
 A girl's APPEAL 
 
 THE ESCAPE 
 
 THE WHIPPING OF THE CHEVALIER 
 
 THE CHALLENGE — THE DUEL — ARREST . 
 
 THE duke's ALTERNATIVE . 
 
 AMONGST THE MOUNTAINS — LE COQ DORE 
 
 THE SIEUR STRIKES .... 
 
 AN UNLOOKED-FOR FRIEND . 
 
 PRISONERS — DISILLUSION . 
 
 AIMEE COMES 
 
 FREEDOM — THE FLIGHT ACROSS THE MOUN 
 
 TAINS 
 
 PURSUIT — DEFEAT IN VICTORY . 
 REFUGE — A DEBT WELL PAID 
 
 PAGE 
 
 7 
 i6 
 
 23 
 30 
 37 
 
 12 i Jf >w O <^ 
 
6 CONTENTS i 
 
 CHAP. PAGE I 
 
 XXII. AGAIN AT IVREA 163 j 
 
 XXIII. DESPONDENCY — SHELDON's AGAIN — THE CALL ! 
 
 TO IRELAND 
 
 XXIV. IN DUBLIN — A GENTLEMAN OF LEISURE 
 XXV. A WHISPER FROM THE PAST 
 XXVI. BY BULLOCK STRAND — A LOYALIST VOLUN- 
 TEER 
 
 XXVII. LOVE IS NOT FOR ME — CHECKMATE TO AN 
 
 ENEMY 
 
 XXVIII. A WILD-GOOSE CHASE — A LITTLE SWORDPLAY 
 
 XXIX. AN OLD FRIEND 
 
 XXX. LOVE WHISPERS AGAIN — AN INVITATION 
 XXXI. THE DAUGHTER OF MY ENEMY . 
 XXXII. FOR THE HEAD OF A TRAITOR — LOVE COMES 
 TO ME 
 
 XXXIII. THE PROTECTION OF THE LAW-ABIDING 
 
 XXXIV. THE FROWN OF FORTUNE .... 
 XXXV. CONSUMMATION — FAREWELL 
 
A SWORDSMAN OF 
 THE BRIGADE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ONE NIGHT IN CATHAIR DOMHNAILL 
 
 On a dark and tempestuous night in the beginning 
 of the year of grace 1703, a stout little lugger crept 
 out of a secluded creek on the coast of Kerry, having 
 on board, myself, Piaras Gras, and many another 
 lad who had given the word which enrolled us com- 
 rades of those other brave fellows who had trailed 
 their swords across many a battlefield, and made their 
 names synonymous with dashing bravery. 
 
 The night was suited to the enterprise. Across 
 the sky scudded heavy masses of cloud through the 
 rifts of which the moon peeped out fitfully. From 
 the land the rain blew in heavy sheets,^ carried by 
 a wind which moaned and whistled through the 
 cordage of our little vessel. 
 
 But what cared stout Seamus Og, the master of 
 the swift sailing smuggler, though winds blew high 
 and skies looked black. Full many a time had he 
 sailed his gallant craft in the teeth of wind and wave, 
 carrying his cargo of brave recruits away to France. 
 How many a time had not his lugger shown her heels 
 to the cruisers of Dutch William, treading her way 
 in and out of the creeks and inlets indenting the 
 Kerry coast, where they dared not follow. How 
 
8 A SV/ORDSMAN 
 
 m.-any a- *' wild goose" had taken his flight with 
 him, to cleave his way to fame and fortune in the 
 ranks of the Irish Brigade, or to find a grave 'neath 
 the sod of some field of blood, where sword in hand 
 he had struck home at the enemies of his race. 
 
 And here am I, Piaras Gras, son of old Seaghan 
 Gr^s of Snaidhm, whose sword had flashed on 
 Aughrim's day, sailing this stormy night away out 
 towards the land of the generous Gaul. 
 
 I had been all day at the fair of Cathair Domh- 
 naill, having ridden over there on my black mare, 
 Crom. A Dhia I how I loved that mare I My father 
 had bred her dam in the days of his prosperity, when 
 Seaghan Gras was known from end to end of 
 Kerry's hills and valleys — aye, and far beyond — for 
 his open-handed generosity, his princely chivalry; 
 before those devilish laws, the product of hell, had 
 come to blight his name and wreck his fortunes, 
 leaving him a broken man in a little wayside cabin. 
 
 In the tall castle where his fathers had lived and 
 ruled — where I had played in childhood — a surly 
 Williamite undertaker now lorded it over the sur- 
 rounding country-side. From the ruin of his fortune 
 he had managed to save the mare, and bring her to 
 that litde cottage where his declining years had been 
 spent. Here had I grown up into young manhood, 
 witnessing from day to day all the bitter humiliations 
 and insults to which a beaten people may be sub- 
 jected by an arrogant conqueror. Here had I learned 
 the bitter story of the hated laws which had reduced 
 the old race and bowled them to the dust. Here had 
 Crom been foaled. Here had we hidden her away 
 from prying eyes. 
 
 How I had tended her; how often I had patted 
 her arching neck ; how I knew every mood and whim 
 of my gende Crom. And she — how she'd whinny 
 with delight when I came near, and thrust her soft 
 muzzle into my open hand. My bonny mare I And 
 now my hand has given you death. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 9 
 
 We had carefully hidden her away till that fatal 
 morning. How gaily we pricked along the white 
 road I How prettily she arched her neck, and tossed 
 up her handsome head, as if disdaining the long 
 miles which she sent flying behind! What little 
 thought I had as we swept merrily along of what 
 that evil day would bring forth I Could we see into 
 that future which is hidden from us how differently 
 we might act I 
 
 I was busy all day attending to the business which 
 had brought me hither. The evening was closing 
 in when I, mounted on my mare, rode out through 
 the gateway of the inn kept by Micheal Mor, an old 
 retainer of my father's. By some ill chance of 
 fortune I dismounted at the inn door to transact a 
 business I had forgotten till that moment. Throw- 
 ing the reins to a buachaill standing by, I stepped 
 inside. A few minutes sufficed, then I came out to 
 mount for home. But as I placed my foot in the 
 stirrup, a heavy hand was laid on my shoulder, and 
 turning, I beheld the black face of Sir Michael 
 Sickles. 
 
 "That's a fine mare you've got there, my fine 
 fellow," he growled out. " A fine mare for a Papist 
 beggar." 
 
 " Little the thanks to 3^ou for her fineness, you 
 black hound," I shouted angrily, for my temper 
 was always a bit fiery. '* Take your hand off my 
 
 shoulder, or " and my hand went unconsciously 
 
 to my pocket. 
 
 "Not so fast! not so fast! my gallant young 
 spark," exclaimed Sir Michael, sneeringly. " I 
 want a good mare just now, and that one of yours 
 will suit me. Bring her up to me at the Casde of 
 Snaidhm to-morrow. You ought to know the way, 
 Master Gras. Or better still, I'll ride her home. 
 The price the law allows will be paid you whenever 
 you call, or will I give it to you now? I doubt not 
 you have need of it," and he laughed hoarsely. 
 
 " You'll never own her, you dog," I shouted 
 
10 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 furiously, drawing a pistol, and firing point-blank 
 at the mare. The aim was true, and with a scream, 
 almost human in its agony, my gallant Crom sank 
 to the ground. 
 
 Sword in hand, the baronet threw himself on me, 
 at the same time shouting loudly for help. ^ Just in 
 time I turned to meet his furious onset. With a cry 
 of rage, I threw my empty pistol at his head, which, 
 striking him in the face, caused him to stagger back 
 a pace or two. But the distance was too short to do 
 him much damage. However, it gave me time to 
 draw my second pistol. Reckless of consequences, 
 I fired almost without taking aim, and Sir Michael 
 fell prone with the bullet in his breast. 
 
 Stupefied, I stood gazing down at the unfortunate 
 man lying there, his blood dyeing the surrounding 
 roadway. But a hand was laid on my arm, and a 
 voice whispered in my ear: " Teith, a mhic mo 
 chroidhe. Beidh na saighdiuiri annso ar ball." 
 
 The voice aroused me from my stupor. Hardly 
 knowing whither I went, I allowed myself to be led 
 back into the inn I had just quitted. It was barely 
 time, for the sound of the hastening footsteps of 
 soldiers was borne to my ears. The landlord, for it 
 was he who had drawn me in, hurried me through 
 a dark passage, and into a little room at the back of 
 the inn. Raising a portion of the coarse drugget 
 which covered the floor, he lifted a small door, from 
 which a ladder led downwards. In a whisper he 
 told me to descend, and when I had reached the 
 bottom to remove the ladder. 
 
 As I descended into the darkness of the cellar, the 
 door was closed down, the drugget dropped back 
 into its place, and then I heard the retreating steps 
 of the landlord. Groping forward in the Stygian 
 darkness, I could hear the heavy tramp of the 
 soldiers; hear their voices as they questioned Micheal 
 regarding the occurrence whereby the King's peace 
 had been broken, and the blood of a local magnate 
 and loyal subject spilled. I could hear them tramp- 
 
OF THE BRIGADE ii 
 
 ing through the house; hear their oaths as they 
 realised that their search was fruitless— that the bird 
 had flown. 
 
 Looking back now through all the years which have 
 flown by since that night when I lay there in the 
 thick blackness listening to the pursuers who might 
 come on me at any moment, I realise that never 
 again did I experience such mental torture. I have 
 charged up against the bristling bayonets of Dutch- 
 man and Hun. I have ridden through the thick 
 smoke of many a German batdefield, where bullets 
 whistled like hail. I have carried my life in my 
 hands what time I rode through the allied lines with 
 Duke Vendome's dispatches in my keeping, but 
 never did I feel the torment of mind which was mine 
 on that night standing there, a youth of twenty, with 
 only an empty pistol clutched in my hand. 
 
 That night, with the voices of these Sasanach 
 bandogs sounding in my ears, not knowing when 
 they might stumble on my hiding-place, my utter 
 helplessness affrighted me. Should they have come 
 on me then, I would have been caught like a rat in 
 a trap, and having neither sword nor pistol where- 
 with to defend myself, like a rat I would have been 
 slaughtered, for I had resolved not to surrender. A 
 Dhia I even now the terrors of that awful night come 
 back to me. 
 
 But when I rode amidst the hissing bullets, with 
 my good sabre in my grasp, I was a man amongst 
 men, ready and willing to give blow for blow. The 
 blood bounded fiercely through my veins, and the 
 battle-lust was on me. 
 
 Gradually the sounds died away. I heard the 
 retreating footsteps of the soldiers, as they departed 
 to continue their search elsewhere, and then all was 
 silence. After the lapse of about half an hour, so 
 nearly as I could judge, I heard a stealthy step over- 
 head, and the trapdoor was raised. In the profound 
 darkness I could see nothing, but a whisper reached 
 my ear. 
 
12 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 " Are you there, Master Piaras? ** 
 "Yes," I whispered back. ''Who calls?" 
 "It is I, Micheal," the voice of the landlord 
 whispered. " Buidheachas mor le Dia, the soldiers 
 are gone. But hurry, they may come back again at 
 any moment." 
 
 Placing the ladder against which I leaned to the 
 opening, I rapidly ascended, and in a few seconds 
 stood beside my old friend. 
 
 " Now, a mhic mo chroidhe," he whispered, " be 
 quick. Off with that coat of yours, and put this 
 on," handing me a long cloak which completely 
 enveloped me. "This caibin will serve you a 
 turn." 
 
 When I had rapidly made the changes, he 
 regarded me in the feeble light of the rushlight 
 which he held in his hand, remarking : 
 
 " It won't be so easy for a spy to know you now." 
 Then thrusting a pistol into my hand, he went on : 
 " It would be dangerous for you to go home. 
 There will be a watch on the house. The soldiers 
 found your pistol with your name on the butt, so 
 they'll be on your track. Take my advice and quit 
 the country. There's an officer recruiting for the 
 Brigade beyond at An Curran. Go there and find 
 out Seamus Gabha. Tell him I sent you. Have no 
 fear of telling him everything that happened. Away 
 with you now, and God watch over you." 
 
 Extinguishing the rushlight, he cautiously opened 
 a side-door, and peered out. He whispered to me 
 that the coast was clear. Then a hand-clasp and I 
 was away. 
 
 Walking swiftly forward beneath the twinkling 
 stars, I soon left the sleeping village behind. Extreme 
 caution was necessary, therefore I kept to the fields. 
 It was well I did so, for I had not gone far when I 
 heard the jingle of the harness of a mounted patrol on 
 the road. I crouched down in the furze. But the 
 men trotted past, and soon the beat of the horses' 
 hooves was swallowed up in the distance. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 13 
 
 Day was breaking as I came within sight of An 
 Currdn. From a peasant lad who crossed my path I 
 inquired for Seamus Gabha. He pointed me out a 
 tumble-down forge at the entrance to the village. 
 Going to the door, I knocked. In a few minutes it 
 was opened cautiously, and a black-bearded man, who 
 appeared as if he had only risen from bed, peered 
 into my face, inquiring in a gruff voice what I wanted. 
 In a few words I told him I had come from Cathair 
 Domhnaill, and had been sent by Micheal Mor, the 
 innkeeper. The mention of Micheal's name seemed 
 to produce a favourable impression on my black- 
 visaged questioner, and in a more kindly voice he 
 bade me enter, remarking as if in excuse of his 
 brusqueness : 
 
 ** These are dangerous times, and we know not 
 whom to trust. Spies surround us on all sides. We 
 must, therefore, be cautious, and careful as to how we 
 bestow our friendships." 
 
 When I had entered, I told him of the happenings 
 of the night. He listened in silence. When I had 
 done: 
 
 ** You must get away," he said. *' Your life isn't 
 worth a traithnin if the soldiers lay hands on you. 
 The Brigade is the only place for you. During the 
 day a wool-buyer will be here; he's an officer of the 
 Brigade. Till he comes you must hide. Prying eyes 
 may be about. But I'll put you in a place where it 
 will take a clever Sasanach to find you." 
 
 So saying, he led me into the forge, and there in a 
 recess under the fire-place which seemed to have been 
 hollowed out for just such an emergency, he stowed 
 me away. And then he brought me some cold meat 
 and bread, which I devoured, for I was as hungry as a 
 hawk. A jug of ale completed my repast, and with 
 my hunger satisfied, worn out by fatigue and weari- 
 ness, I stretched myself on the heap of straw with 
 which my hiding-place was furnished, and was soon 
 sleeping soundly. 
 
 I awoke suddenly with a start, to hear the sound of 
 
14 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 loud, rough voices and the clink of spurs. Evidently 
 these sounds had awakened me, or perhaps it was the 
 sense of danger which sometimes grips at our sleep- 
 ing faculties, causing us to start up affrightedly. I 
 raised myself on my elbow and listened. They were 
 evidently searching the forge. The few disjointed 
 words which reached my ears were hardly necessary 
 to tell me for whom they were searching. At last the 
 sounds of their searching ceased, and I judged they 
 had gone. 
 
 Starting at every sound, I sat up in my den. It 
 was so small I could not stand erect. It was barely 
 high enough to permit of my resting in a sitting 
 posture. Oh, how I fumed and fretted! How I 
 longed to be out under the sky once more I How I 
 felt my manhood smirched and disgraced through 
 having to lie there like the veriest criminal ! What 
 would I not have given for a dash across the heather 
 of my native gleann on my gallant Crom ! But never 
 again would I bestride the back of that loved com- 
 panion of my youth. No I The die was cast. I had 
 done with the old life. There could be no turning 
 back now. At last, merciful sleep came again to my 
 aid. 
 
 I was awakened by a touch on my arm, and a voice 
 whispered in my ear : 
 
 ** Teanam ort. 'Se an t-am." 
 
 I permitted myself to be led into the little room 
 which I had entered in the morning. There I found 
 myself in the presence of a tall, broad-shouldered man 
 of florid complexion. He was evidently acquainted 
 with my story, and at once inquired if I were wishful 
 to join the Brigade. I replied that such was my 
 intention. 
 
 ** Very well,'* he replied, **we want such men as 
 you. You are only just in time. To-night Seamus 
 Og*s lugger sails for France." 
 
 In a few minutes I had pocketed the silver coin 
 which enrolled me a bold brigadier. Then I gripped 
 the hand of my good friend and protector, Seamus 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 15 
 
 Gabha, and out I stole into the night beside my 
 soldier companion. 
 
 A walk of an hour or so through the storm which 
 had sprung up brought us to the little creek where 
 the smuggler lay. A long whistle from my comrade 
 brought a boat stealing across the foam-flecked waters. 
 We took our seats in her, and in a few minutes I was 
 standing on the deck of the little lugger which was 
 to bear me to the land of the fleur-de-lis. 
 
 And this is how I came to don the uniform of 
 Sheldon's Horse, and sailed away to cleave my way 
 to fortune. 
 
 Henceforth I shall know the fierce delight of the 
 headlong charge. I shall see the red twinkle of the 
 camp-fires shining through the night. In the land 
 of the gallant Gaul there is fame and fortune to be 
 won at the sword's point. 
 
 Hurrah ! Hurrah ! for the life of a soldier ! 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 Three months have flown by since that stormy night 
 when I gazed through the mist at the receding shores 
 of my native land. Three months I Such months of 
 ceaseless drill and preparation for the red work of 
 war. At night the last mournful cadences of the 
 bugle lulled me to sleep. In the grey morning light 
 the shrill notes of the reveille startled me from sleep 
 to the work and bustling activity of another day. 
 
 How gaily we swaggered it through the streets of 
 the grey old Flemish town in our gay uniforms, our 
 spurs jingling merrily at our heels. How we longed 
 for the serried lines and the thunder of battle, and 
 envied our more fortunate companions who had been 
 drafted away to the army of the Rhine, where hard 
 knocks were plenty but promotion certain. However, 
 Piaras Gras can wait, his chance will come. Mean- 
 while, I can plume it with the gayest in the inns and 
 taverns of this old fishing town, which has known 
 the Spanish and English, but now owns the French 
 as masters. 
 
 And it was in this old town of Dunkerque that an 
 incident happened which had like to finish my career 
 as a dashing guardsman. 
 
 We had gone down one night to *'Le Chat 
 Rouge" in the Rue Saint Julien to enjoy a flagon of 
 P^re Jacques' wine. There were about a dozen of us 
 in our company, most of them of Sheldon's Horse, 
 with one or two Frenchmen. We were enjoying our 
 
 i6 
 
A SWORDSMAN 17 
 
 wine, and chatting about the campaign on the Rhine, 
 whither we of Sheldon's Horse hoped soon to be sent. 
 
 Suddenly a tall, dark-complexioned, bearded man 
 entered. He was dressed in the costume peculiar to 
 the Catalonian seamen. Round his waist was twisted 
 a red silken sash, and in his ears he wore large gold 
 earrings. His long, black hair fell in wavy confusion 
 down on his shoulders, and was partially covered by 
 the red woollen cap, worn by the seafarers of that 
 country. He was a stranger at *' Le Chat Rouge," 
 for though we were constant visitors, we had never 
 seen him there before. 
 
 Swaggering to a vacant side table he called for 
 wine. Litde Annette, the host's pretty daughter, 
 brought it to him. He threw a gold piece on the table 
 in payment, and in silence set himself to the enjoy- 
 ment of the liquor. In a few seconds the girl re- 
 turned with the change out of his gold piece. But it 
 was evident the fellow had had too much to drink. 
 With a loud laugh he jumped to his feet, and throw- 
 ing his arms round her, attempted to kiss her. 
 Annette resisted violently, calling to us loudly for 
 help. In an instant all was confusion. With shouts 
 of rage we dashed to her assistance, but in our 
 excitement only encumbered each other. Disengag- 
 ing myself from the crowd I rushed at the bold 
 stranger, who still held the struggling girl in his 
 arms. With a fierce blow I caught him full in the 
 face. Releasing Annette he turned to meet me. We 
 rushed at each other, but he stumbled over a chair, 
 and then — the big beard he was wearing fell away, 
 revealing to my astonished gaze a clean-shaven face 
 — an English face. 
 
 A shout of " Spy, spy " rose on all sides.^ With a 
 quick movement the Englishman drew a pistol, and 
 fired at the candelabrum which hung on the wall, 
 bringing it clattering to the floor, and leaving us in 
 complete darkness. After some delay a light was 
 procured, and then we discovered that the stranger 
 had disappeared. I remembered that I had felt 
 
i8 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 someone brush past me. I told my companions of 
 this, and with one accord we dashed into the street. 
 
 Fortunately we were just in time. Away down the 
 street, slinking along in the shadows, we caught a 
 glimpse of his red cap, revealed for an instant m the 
 light of a smoky lamp. With shouts of "The spy's 
 away," we plunged ahead on his track. In the 
 eagerness of pursuit I far outdistanced my comrades. 
 Ahead I caught a glimpse of the Englishman now 
 and again. Through the Rue Saint Jean we rushed, 
 our footsteps echoing loudly on the paved streets, and 
 causing many a window in the tall houses to fly open, 
 and then the tall masts of the ships lying in the 
 Bason, rising up in the night like giants' arms, came 
 into view. I was now close behind; scarcely fifty 
 yards separated me from him. 
 
 Suddenly I lost sight of my quarry. We had 
 come to the corner of a dark and almost uninhabited 
 street, round the corner of which he had wheeled. 
 When I reached it he had disappeared. I halted in 
 confusion. I looked up and down the street, but it 
 would have needed a cat's eyes to see in the thick 
 gloom. Realising the uselessness of trying to pick 
 up his track in that dark, and, to me, entirely un- 
 known neighbourhood, I decided to give up the 
 pursuit, and turned to retrace my footsteps. A light 
 footfall sounded beside me. Instinctively I stepped 
 back, but a stinging blow deprived me of my senses, 
 and I knew no more. 
 
 When I came to myself I was in complete darkness. 
 A raging pain was in my head, round which a cloth 
 was roughly bound, which felt wet and clammy to 
 the touch. Slowly the knowledge of what had 
 happened came back to me. I remembered the 
 pursuit of the spy, and the sudden blow which had 
 deprived me of my senses. Ah 1 this, then, was the 
 explanation of the bandage round my head. 
 
 But where was I? This swinging thing which 
 swayed and shook at every movement, surely it could 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 19 
 
 not be my hard bed at the barracks ? Was it a room 
 at " Le Chat Rouge " ? If it was, its beds were most 
 confoundedly uncomfortable. 
 
 But hist I What was that? A stealthy step 
 sounded in my ears, and a lantern gleam cut through 
 the darkness. Instandy I lay back feigning insensi- 
 bility. Slowly the footsteps advanced, and the lan- 
 tern was flashed in my face. But not even by the 
 twinkle of an eyelid did I betray myself. They 
 should not know of my return to consciousness till I 
 had found out where I was. 
 
 After a cursory glance the lantern-carrier turned 
 and tiptoed noiselessly from my side. Through half- 
 open eyes I watched him hang his lantern on a hook 
 suspended from the ceiling — watched his retreating 
 figure disappearing. When his footsteps had died 
 away I raised myself on my elbow and looked round. 
 By the lantern's light I perceived that I lay in a 
 hammock. Overhead I could hear the sound of 
 many feet, mingled with the lap-lap of waters. With 
 a start I realised that I was on shipboard. But what 
 ship, and how had I come there? Anxiously I gazed 
 round, and suddenly the horrible thought flashed 
 across my dulled brain that this was an English ship. 
 Aye, and there painted on the lantern was its name, 
 ** Ambuscade." Vainly I racked my brains for an 
 explanation of my presence in this place. But none 
 presented itself. Whatever was the meaning, I felt 
 that now I was on board, and knew of the presence of 
 a hostile ship in the harbour, care would be taken 
 that I did not escape. And quite apart from that 
 was the fact of my being an Irishman in the French 
 service. My danger was imminent; it behoved me 
 to look to myself. 
 
 Again I heard the voices and footsteps of several 
 persons coming down the companion-way. Again I 
 lay back in my hammock with closed eyes. Again 
 they approached me. But this time some involuntary 
 movement on my part betrayed me. With an oath I 
 was seized and lifted, none too gently, to the floor. 
 
20 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 Before me stood my friend of the inn. He was 
 now dressed in a kind of naval uniform. 
 
 ** Who are you? " he demanded roughly, 
 
 " Piaras Grds of Sheldon's Horse," I replied 
 proudly, looking him full in the face. I knew it was 
 useless to attempt to deceive him. My uniform 
 betrayed me. 
 
 " Do you know anything of an O 'Carroll of the 
 same regiment? " he asked. 
 
 ** Possibly I might," I replied, resolved to gain as 
 much time as possible, '' but then there are so many 
 O'Carrolls." 
 
 The question explained much. The remembrance 
 of an affair, leading to the recovery by the dashing 
 lieutenant of ours of some plans connected with the 
 defence of the town from an English spy, who had 
 escaped, came to me. Probably this was the spy 
 from whom they had been taken, who hoped to make 
 good his loss by the capture of the lieutenant. 
 
 ** This O'Carroll to whom I refer," resumed the 
 Englishman, "is tall and dark-complexioned, and 
 wears a heavy black moustachio." 
 
 '*AhI" I drawled reflectively, '^ the lieutenant of 
 ours. And what might you want of him? " 
 
 ** It is not for you to question, sirrah," he growled, 
 " but to answer." 
 
 " Well, you see, sir spy," I drawled, '* I imagined 
 you wanted information." 
 
 I was succeeding admirably in my design. In a 
 few seconds he would be beside himself with rage, 
 and an angry man is less watchful than a cool one. 
 
 "Do you know where the lieutenant lives?" 
 queried my captor. 
 
 "Yes," I replied coolly, "but I won't tell you. 
 Piaras Gr^s is no informer." 
 
 " Perhaps a little gentle persuasion will make you 
 less squeamish," sneered my captor. " Besides I owe 
 you something for that blow at the inn. Boat- 
 swain, your cat-o'-nine-tails. We'll make this rat 
 squeal." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 21 
 
 To this remark I did not see fit to make any reply. 
 Piaras Gras never bandies words with a foe. The 
 boatswain, a big, lusty fellow, dropped my right arm 
 which he had been holding, while another sailor held 
 my left. 
 
 No sooner had the boatswain disappeared than I 
 twisted myself free. It wasn't a very hard job either, 
 for I had been so passive that my remaining guard 
 had relaxed his grip. With a trip I sent him head- 
 long into a corner, and in a bound I was on the 
 officer. My move had been so sudden he was taken 
 by surprise. He attempted to draw a pistol, but I 
 was too quick for him. Fair in the stomach I caught 
 him with a tremendous kick, which sent him reeling 
 across the cabin. Up the companion-ladder I sprang 
 almost on the heels of the boatswain, cutting my 
 shins badly against the steps. But what mattered 
 these scratches. I was free. 
 
 No, dar mo laimh, not yet a while. A yell sounded 
 behind me: **The prisoner's escaping.'* 
 
 A rush of feet across the deck made me pause 
 with my feet on the last step. But this was not 
 the moment for delay. With a bound I was on to the 
 deck. The red glare of a lantern revealed me to the 
 enemy. I tripped over a coil of rope lying on the deck, 
 and fell heavily. Lucky for me I did, for a heavy 
 missile went whizzing past. Had I been standing it 
 would have laid my head open. 
 
 I jumped to my feet and raced forward blindly. 
 But the sailors were closing in around me. A bullet 
 would have stopped my career. None came. Doubt- 
 less they feared to use their firearms for fear of arous- 
 ing the suspicions of the port authorities. Should I 
 allow myself to be taken I was lost. Farewell then 
 to Sheldon's Horse and all my dreams of glory. At 
 the thought the lurking devil in me woke up. With 
 a yell I sprang at the nearest form which I could 
 make out in the darkness. Down he went before 
 my furious onslaught, and I staggered across his 
 prone body against the bulwarks. Without a 
 
22 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 moment's hesitation I placed my hands on the top and 
 vaulted clear. 
 
 Down — down into the dark waters I plunged. The 
 shock of their icy coldness almost took away my 
 senses, but the feeling passed, and in a few seconds 
 I rose to the surface. Treading water I looked round. 
 Far ahead I could see the bright glare of the beacon 
 standing at the end of the Pier. Its yellow gleam 
 was like a ray of hope to me. Kicking off the heavy 
 cavalry boots, which hung like lead on my feet, I 
 struck out. My head still throbbed painfully, and I 
 was weak from the loss of blood. In my weak condi- 
 tion my progress was slow, but the indomitable spirit 
 of my race did not desert me. I knew it was not likely 
 my assailants would pursue. After my escape they 
 would be more intent on looking to their own safety. 
 My feeble strokes carried me onwards, and at last, 
 worn out, and almost at the last gasp, I felt the 
 ground shelving under my feet. Staggering from the 
 water I fell senseless to the ground. 
 
 In this condition one of the sentinels found me. 
 When after ten days in the military hospital I was 
 able to give some account of the happenings of that 
 night, pursuit of the English ship was out of the 
 question. Doubtless, fearing that I might bring the 
 authorities down about his ears, my captor had taken 
 flight, and was heard of no more. As for myself, 
 I slowly recovered from the effects of my adventure, 
 and was once again in the saddle. I had hardly got 
 back to the ranks when our troop received orders to 
 join the army of the Rhine. 
 
 Now, at last, my opportunity has come. What 
 Fortune's hand shall stretch to me in the German land, 
 I know not. Shall her smiles light up my path, or 
 will my fate be that of so many of my compatriots ? 
 But to what purpose these questionings? Let come 
 what may Piaras Grds will do his duty. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 SPEIER — THE CAPTURE OF THE STANDARD 
 
 Night in the Bavarian Palatinate. Cold and bright 
 glance down the moon-rays on the placid waters of 
 the Middle Rhine, flowing swiftly on its northern 
 course towards the land of dyke and ditch, the Dutch 
 Nederlanden. Away beyond rises up the tall spire of 
 the old cathedral of Speier, looking down from its 
 lofty height on the ancient town nestling beneath, 
 whose streets have full many a time echoed to the 
 shouts of the victorious invaders, who came with fire 
 and sword, the shibboleths of their various parties 
 on their lips, to level its walls and deliver its burghers 
 to the fury of a soldiery maddened with the wine of 
 victory. Dark and silent it stands out in the clear 
 moonlight like some giant sentinel keeping watch and 
 ward through the lonely watches of the night. 
 
 To my eyes, at least, it appeared so as I stood at 
 my lone post this cold November night, leaning on 
 my carbine, and musing on the battle which would 
 take place on the morrow. But the moon shone down 
 on other sights than that old cathedral town. Its 
 rays glanced back from row on row of white tents. 
 It tipped bayonet point and musket barrel as they 
 stood piled ready to be seized at the morning's 
 dawning. 
 
 From my post I could mark the extent of our lines 
 by the camp-fires, which twinkled redly through the 
 darkness. To my ears was borne the sharp ** Qui 
 Vive " of our sentinels as they watched lest an enemy 
 
 23 
 
24 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 might steal on us unawares. No other sound broke 
 the stillness. All around men slept, and, mayhap, 
 dreamed of the dear ones left behind in some village 
 of old Normandie, or on some storm-beaten coast of 
 far-away Bretagne, whom they might never see 
 again. Or, mayhap, they dreamed of the glory which 
 might be theirs. All around repose and forgetful- 
 ness reigned. 
 
 Musingly I gazed on the peaceful scene spreading 
 out before me. How soon would its peace be broken 
 by the red tocsin of war I How long ere its fairness 
 be marred by its dread engines ! How long ere torn, 
 mangled bodies of Frank and Teuton would lie along 
 these quiet valleys ! 
 
 The word had gone forth that we would fight on the 
 morrow. During the day, and well into the night, 
 our chief, the gallant old Marshal de Tallard, bravest 
 amongst France's soldiers, had made an inspection of 
 all our forces. In fighting trim we had stood before 
 him. It was a stirring sight to see the stout old 
 warrior, riding along with his staff-officers, accom- 
 panied by torch-bearers, examining arms and 
 accoutrements, dropping a word of kindly commend- 
 ation here, or a sharp word of reprimand there. The 
 Marshal was no drawing-room soldier, owing his 
 position to the intrigues of courtesans at Versailles, 
 but a grizzled war-dog, who had won his way by 
 valour and prowess on the tented field. 
 
 But that had passed. The camp had become quiet, 
 and the soldiers had disposed themselves to the 
 snatching of such repose as they might, till the drum 
 would beat its shrill reveille, and they would seize 
 their arms to meet the shock of the advancing enemy. 
 
 Before us lay the army of the Allies, commanded 
 by the Prince of Hesse Cassel. To-morrow's red 
 work would be no mere skirmish, but a fierce struggle 
 for the mastery, which would be furiously maintained 
 on both sides. Would I see the end of that bloody 
 conflict, or was I destined to leave my bones crumb- 
 ling to dust on the banks of the lordly Rhine in the 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 25 
 
 land of a stranger people, thrown unknown and un- 
 cared for into a pit dug by unheeding hands, where 
 Gaedheal and Gaul, Teuton and Hun would lie side 
 by side, united in the final grand equality of death ? 
 
 What visions and memories crowd through the 
 brain of the lonely soldier pacing his solitary rounds 
 in the solemn night! What recollections of home 
 and friends come stealing o'er him I Before my 
 mind's eye passed in review the memory of my child- 
 hood, spent amidst the gleanns and woods of wild Ui 
 Rathach. The free, happy days when I wandered 
 through the whispering woods, seeking the hidden 
 nest of thrush and blackbird, or that other day when, 
 urged by a spirit of daring, I had climbed to the 
 topmost branch of one of its tallest trees, and remained 
 there, chained at this eerie height by unnameable 
 terror, till the moon had come out, and I was dis- 
 covered by a party from the castle. Ah I those 
 careless, gladful days so far away, and yet so near! 
 
 Sharply and distinctly loomed up before me the 
 sight of a gallant array of armed men, with my 
 father, proud and stately, at their head. I almost 
 imagined I could again hear the skirl and cronan of 
 the pipes as they intoned right merrily the stirring 
 notes of the " Cnotaban." Again filling my ears came 
 the shrilling skirl and deep dordan, as the little band 
 of brave glensmen and swift mountaineers marched 
 away across the purple heather to join the forces of 
 that worthless king from o'er the water. How I had 
 urged and prayed to be allowed to march with them, 
 but embracing me tenderly, my father had bidden 
 me stay to watch over my mother till his return. 
 And then the black days which had followed. To 
 our home was borne faint rumours of victories and 
 defeats. How our forces, struggling bravely, were 
 gradually forced backward, till the black, bitter day, 
 when the news of Aughrim's red debacle came to 
 blast our home, as the lightning's flash blasts the 
 ancient oak. My poor mother, whom I loved with 
 all the hot, unthinking love of a fiery nature, already 
 
26 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 enfeebled in health, had sunk beneath the blow, and 
 within three days was borne to her resting-place in 
 the old churchyard. And I, after the first burst of 
 violent grief had passed, remained on at the old 
 castle, surrounded by a few faithful old retainers, 
 watching for the return of my father. At last he 
 came, back from Limerick's broken walls, a man 
 bowed down and saddened by disaster, back again to 
 his ancestral hall, where only sorrow and loneliness 
 awaited him. Mo bhron ! how different had been his 
 home-coming from his outgoing ! 
 
 But, Piaras Gras, you are growing sentimental. 
 Rouse yourself, man ! Rouse up I Shake off these 
 morbid thoughts. On the eve of your career to allow 
 such broodings to enter into your head. Think not 
 of defeat or disaster. Think only of the promotion 
 which awaits you I Think of the epaulettes which 
 will, perhaps, grace your shoulders ere to-morrow's 
 sun has gone down. The past is dead; the future 
 lies before you. 
 
 The clank of arms breaks in on my reverie. I 
 start bolt upright, raise my carbine to the ready, and 
 my challenge rings sharp and clear through the 
 frost-laden air. But a friendly " cara " greets my 
 loud demand. It is the relief making its rounds. I 
 present arms, fall in with the little squad, and in a 
 few minutes am seated amongst my comrade-exiles, 
 who, seated round their camp-lire, with merry jest 
 and story pass the night, which for many of them 
 will be their last. 
 
 The sun of a short November day is shining bril- 
 liantly down on the plain w^here the forces of France 
 and of the Allies are once more engaged in deadly 
 strife. Away in front the red flashes of the artillery 
 spit through the pall of smoke which hangs thick 
 and heavy. The rattle of small arms is almost 
 incessant. The shrill blast of the trumpet cuts 
 through the air above the shrieking of shells and the 
 roll of musketry. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 27 
 
 The fight is going badly with us. The German 
 cavalry have snatched many a dearly won trophy 
 from our hands, which will deck the walls of some 
 stately cathedral of the Vaterland. Some of our 
 guns have passed into their hands, and even now 
 thunder against us. Broken and disordered, our 
 columns have been rolled back from the bristling 
 positions of the enemy. 
 
 We of Sheldon's Horse had been inactive all the 
 day. Impatiently we had listened to the rolling 
 volleys, watched the shells hurtling through the 
 smoke, seen our French comrades reeling backwards 
 before the Imperialists. But now our opportunity 
 has come. At last the blood-chilling wait is over. 
 Across the debris-strewn field come thundering a 
 couple of regiments of Imperial cuirassiers, the earth 
 trembling beneath the iron-shod hooves of their 
 chargers, their standards fluttering gaily in the 
 breeze, their trumpets braying the charge. On they 
 come full tilt against the French line. And then an 
 officer dashes up on foam-flecked charger to where 
 our colonel, Christopher Nugent of Dardistown, 
 waits seated on his horse. A salute. A few hurried 
 words and then our trumpets give shrill voice. 
 With sabres gripped tightly, away we go, like an 
 arrow shot from its bow, our horses bounding 
 beneath us as if they welcomed the mad mel^e. 
 Shouting like madmen, we launched ourselves for- 
 ward, the battle fever coursing wildly through our 
 veins. And I, who had never before taken part in 
 war's red revelry, shouted loudest of any. 
 
 And then the shock of our dread meeting. All 
 round me sabres flashed and men shrieked. In that 
 headlong charge many a brave boy who had lilted it 
 right bravely in all our revels went down beneath 
 the crushing hooves of war-maddened horses. The 
 din of that dreadful strife was hellish. Steel clashed 
 against steel. Curses, groans, shrieks, blended 
 with the screams of infuriated steeds in that dread 
 Inferno. 
 
28 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 For a few seconds I saw only red. Instinctively I 
 struck at the faces around me. Blinded, intoxicated 
 by the fierce frenzy of battle, recking not of danger, 
 or, rather, unconscious of it, I cleaved furiously, 
 wildly with my sabre. Then dimly, as through a 
 cloud, I saw the tall form of a standard-bearer, 
 bearing aloft the colours of his regiment. He had 
 got slightly separated from his companions. His 
 reddened sabre was grasped in his right hand while 
 his left gripped the staff of his ensign. 
 
 With a wild yell I spurred towards him. He 
 swerved aside, trying to avoid my furious onset. In 
 vain. Dropping my rein, I gripped the flag-staff. 
 For a few seconds we struggled desperately for the 
 possession of the trophy. Then a shearing blow from 
 my sabre and my gallant foeman relaxes his grip, 
 and falls backward from his horse with a shriek. 
 My horse bounds forw^ard and carries me onward, 
 waving aloft the captured flag, which flutters as 
 bravely as if it were still borne by the hands of the 
 unfortunate German cuirassier into whose care it had 
 been given, to join in the pursuit of the flying 
 remnant of the cuirassiers. 
 
 Of the subsequent incidents of that eventful battle 
 I remember little more. Our tremendous charge 
 had paved the w^ay for another French victory, and 
 led to the surrender of Landau, which opened its 
 gates to our troops three days after the victory by 
 Speier. 
 
 But imagine my pride when as, drawn up after the 
 battle, our gallant Marshal rode down our line, one 
 of his staff-officers beckoned me to him. When I 
 rode forw^ard, with the captured ensign waving 
 proudly over my head, and saluted, the stiff old 
 veteran looked me up and down, and fixing me with 
 his eye, asked me my name. 
 
 " Piaras Gras of Sheldon's Horse^" I replied. 
 
 *' Oh, un brave Irlandais," he remarked to the 
 officer beside him, and then spoke a few words of 
 praise to me, and rode on, while I, blushing like a 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 29 
 
 schoolgirl, resumed my place in the ranks, amidst 
 the plaudits of my comrades. 
 
 Some days afterwards I was summoned to the tent 
 of the Colonel. I found him seated in a camp-chair, 
 looking very pale and wan from the effects of the 
 wounds he had received at the battle. He highly 
 complimented me on my conduct, and informed me 
 that I had been named ensign of my regiment, and 
 he added, while he grasped my hand: 
 
 " Ensign, you have done well. Try to do as well 
 in the future and speedy promotion awaits you." 
 
 And I, hardly knowing if it were night or day, 
 found voice to reply: 
 
 " A Grds always does his best, mon colonel." 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN AUBERGE 
 
 "Landlord, landlord, rouse up, rouse up I*' 
 
 My voice echoed mournfully along the silent road, 
 as I reined up my jaded horse before the door of the 
 tumble-down inn, where I hoped to find food and 
 shelter for the night. But no answering voice replied 
 to my loud summons. Impatiently I threw myself 
 from the saddle and hammered loudly on the door 
 with the butt end of my riding-whip. After long 
 and repeated thunderings a night-capped head was 
 thrust through the narrow window up above it, and 
 a hoarse voice growled out : 
 
 " What is it you require at such an unseemly hour 
 of the night? " 
 
 *' Lodging and refreshment for myself, and a 
 stable for my horse. You retire early in this 
 country, good landlord." 
 
 Without deigning any reply to my remark the 
 landlord growled out in his most surly voice that 
 he would let me in. 
 
 ** Yes, and be quick about it, good landlord. This 
 is no night to be abroad," I replied. 
 
 And without a doubt it was a bad night. The 
 wind blew through the tall pines in fitful gusts, 
 sending the dead leaves whirling above my head. 
 Away in the distance, where the forest was thinner, 
 I could see the rapid flashes of lightning as they 
 lit up the dark mountain sides for an instant, and 
 then went out, leaving the blackness blacker than it 
 
 30 
 
A SWORDSMAN 31 
 
 was before. The rumble of the thunder grew 
 momentarily louder, echoing and re-echoing amongst 
 the clefts and defiles till the crash and ratde grew 
 almost continuous. Already the rain had begun to 
 fall in large drops, which came whirling a-down the 
 shrieking wind into my face. In a few minutes 
 it would be a regular downpour, which would 
 render my progress through this wretched country 
 dangerous, if not altogether impossible. 
 
 However, here I was within sight of shelter, how- 
 ever indifferent. Fate had been kind to me so far, 
 and it would be ungracious not to accept her good 
 offices. But this landlord was a fearfully long time 
 about opening the door, and I was just striding over 
 to hammer on it again, when with a great clatter and 
 rattle of bolts and bars it swung open, revealing him 
 standing in the opening, shading with his open hand 
 a candle, which threw a flickering and unsteady ray 
 across the mountain road w^hich I had been travelling. 
 
 *'Now, monsieur," he shouted loudly, so as to 
 make himself heard above the storm, '* enter." 
 
 '* But my horse, landlord," I said, inquiringly. 
 
 '' I will see to him," he replied. 
 
 " No," I answered him quickly,** my horse is my 
 own care. I stable him myself." 
 
 I knew these scoundrelly innkeepers only too well. 
 Besides, my life had often depended on the fleetness 
 of my horse, which had never failed me. 
 
 '* Peste, monsieur, we cannot stand here all night," 
 he growled, angrily. " I will put up the horse 
 presently." 
 
 " No, good landlord," I replied steadily. ** I see 
 to him myself. A good horse requires all one's 
 care." 
 
 "Diable!" he muttered. And then in sudden 
 anger he burst out: 
 
 ''The foul fiend take yourself and your horse. 
 What a time of night to be abroad." 
 
 "Oh! fie, fie, landlord," I remarked in a pained 
 voice. ** What a reception to give your guest." 
 
33 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 With muttered curses and oaths, he led me round 
 by the corner of the inn, and opening a door in a 
 shed, motioned me in. Beside this ramshackle place 
 the inn itself seemed a palace. But better this than 
 facing the raging storm through the passes, and so, 
 with a philosophic sigh, I accepted this gift of the 
 gods. I made my horse as comfortable as the limited 
 resources of the place would allow; all the while the 
 landlord stood aside looking on scowlingly. Then I 
 turned and accompanied him back to the inn. 
 
 In silence he set before me some cold meat and a 
 stoup of wine. Then seating himself in front of the 
 fire, which he had stirred into a blaze, he sat staring 
 moodily into it, while I discussed the dainty viands 
 set before me. Dainty, did I say I The meat seemed 
 to have been torn asunder by the dirty fingers of the 
 landlord; the bread, black almost as the soot left 
 behind by the blazing logs, went near choking me. 
 I have never held by the doctrines of Epicurus. My 
 campaigning has been fatal to epicurean tastes, which 
 are bad companions by the camp-fire or on the march. 
 But were I so inclined, my epicureanism would have 
 received a frightful shock, and I would have turned 
 from the table in disgust. Not being a follower of 
 the jovial old Greek philosopher, I attacked the food 
 with stoical indifference, and thanks to my ravenous 
 hunger and the wine, which fortunately was good, I 
 managed to make a fair meal enough. Experience 
 had taught me the wisdom of enjoying whatever 
 chance threw in my way without taking too much 
 thought as to the manner of its serving. 
 
 As I sat sipping my wine, I could see that the host 
 was regarding me with suspicious, if covert, glances. 
 When I had finished, I pulled my chair over to the 
 fire, and endeavoured to engage him in conversation. 
 Possibly this boorish fellow had some information to 
 give away. But I should be cautious not to add to 
 his suspicions. 
 
 ** A very lonely place this you live in, landlord,'* 
 I said, tentatively, drawing my chair close into the 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 33 
 
 shadow thrown by the projecting chimney. I wished 
 to have his face in full view. 
 
 *' Yes," came the gruff reply. 
 
 *' Do you find it good for business? " I went on, 
 unabashed by his gruffness and apparent want of 
 desire for talk. 
 
 *' Sometimes yes, sometimes no," and the landlord 
 was gruffer still. 
 
 ** r faith, a very chatty aubergiste," I thought to 
 myself, but there are ways of reaching the surliest 
 landlord's heart. 
 
 Carelessly, I drew out a cigarro, and lit it in a 
 leisurely fashion. As the aroma of my cigarro spread 
 itself through the room I could see his eyes glisten, 
 as he furtively glanced at me. Ah I I had found the 
 way. I drew out another cigarro. 
 
 " Would mine host accept it? " I ventured politely. 
 ** I always like a smoke before bed." 
 
 Eagerly he stretched his hand for it. Evidently 
 the poor devil had few opportunities of procuring 
 such Spanish cigarros in this out-of-the-way spot. 
 And then he sat enjoying it with all the abandon of 
 a voluptuary. 
 
 I had now a good opportunity of studying his coun- 
 tenance. It was evil enough in all conscience. A 
 low, retreating forehead overhung a pair of small, 
 red, ferrety eyes. His cheeks and chin were covered 
 by a short stubbly beard, which but ill concealed a 
 deep cut which ran down along one side of his face 
 almost to his chin. His nose was bent and battered 
 out of all shape, and flattened so much that one 
 looking sideways would imagine that his countenance 
 was not graced by that useful appendage. Seldom 
 had I seen a more villainous face, or one less likely 
 to inspire its beholder with confidence. But what 
 would you ? War makes us acquainted with strange 
 landlords. We cannot be too fastidious. 
 
 "That is good wine of yours, landlord," I com- 
 menced again, "Fit for the king, or the king's 
 collectors," 
 
34 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 " Oui, monsieur," he returned. " I try to supply 
 my customers with the best; but it grows more 
 difficult every day." 
 
 '• Ma foi," I went on. '' What matters it whether 
 the king or his collectors have note of it or not, an* 
 it be good." 
 
 "Oui, oui, monsieur," he said at last, " the kmg 
 has good eyes, but his subjects like good wine." 
 And he looked at me cunningly. 
 
 " Our tastes before everything," I laughed, fallmg 
 in with his humour. Whereat the landlord guffawed, 
 doubtless deeming me a good fellow not troubled 
 with too many scruples. 
 
 " I was very fortunate to come across your good 
 inn," I went on when the laughter had subsided. 
 *'This is not a very pleasant night to be out. But 
 you seem to retire early in this country." 
 
 "What would you have, monsieur?" replied the 
 host, now thoroughly in humour; " so few pass this 
 way after dark." 
 
 He paused, and then resumed: "Monsieur, you 
 will pardon the rough food I placed before you, but 
 this evening a troop of soldiers were here, who ate 
 up everything I had in the house. Germans they 
 were, who swilled beer like swine. The captain asked 
 me if a Frenchman had called at my inn. He was 
 
 carrying dispatches, he said, and if I " He 
 
 stopped, and then went on : " They left about an hour 
 before you came, monsieur. Ah ! they are banditti, 
 those Germans." 
 
 Sitting there in the shadow I listened. It was as 
 I feared. The road was watched. And here I was, 
 weather-bound, in this wretched inn, not knowing 
 when those Germans, who were watching for me, 
 might make their appearance. But not by a sign 
 or look did I betray the thoughts passing through 
 my mind. Once I thought of facing the fury of the 
 storm. But as I listened to the roar and rattle, I 
 knew how useless it would be. Without any know- 
 ledge of the mountain passes, the morning's light 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 35 
 
 might dawn only to find me stretched lifeless at the 
 bottom of some tall cliff. No ! it was better to take 
 my chance. I would set my wits against those of 
 my pursuers, and if the worst came to the worst, why, 
 I had my pistols and a good sword. And so I sat 
 watching the wreaths of smoke curling to the ceiling. 
 
 After his confidential outburst mine host became 
 silent again. Mayhap, he thought he had been too 
 communicative. I had no desire to arouse his sus- 
 picions by an appearance of over-anxiety for infor- 
 mation, and said nothing more, save to utter a few 
 commonplaces as to my willingness to put up with 
 rough fare in the circumstances. And then his wife, 
 as ill-favoured as her husband, came to inform me 
 my room was ready. With a good night to the 
 worthy pair, I mounted the narrow stairs. 
 
 Removing my boots, I threw them in a corner, 
 making as much noise as possible, so that I might 
 delude them into the belief I had retired. Then, 
 blowing out the evil-smelling candle, I sat down to 
 think. Here was I, Lieutenant Piaras Grds of 
 Sheldon's Horse, riding with important dispatches 
 for the Marshal Due de Vendome, engaged in the 
 siege of Ivrea, over the Italian border, stranded in 
 this lonely inn amongst these wild Alpine passes. 
 Unluckily the news of my journey was out; the 
 emissaries of the Imperialists were on my track. The 
 landlord might be honest or he might not. Living 
 so close to the Italian border, he would be, probably 
 enough, a man of the two sides; to-day a French- 
 man, to-morrow a spy of the Imperialists. 
 
 Suddenly the sound of stealthy footsteps on the 
 stairs made me start up, and throwing myself into 
 the bed, dressed as I was, begin to snore loudly. 
 Outside the door I heard the footsteps pause; then, 
 as if reassured by my loud snores, the listener moved 
 away again. After a few seconds, above the roaring 
 of the storm, I heard the opening and shutting of a 
 door. Creeping to the window, which was protected 
 by bars, I looked out. In the thick blackness I 
 
36 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 managed to make out a figure slouching away from 
 the inn. 
 
 Who would be abroad on such a night? My 
 instinct told me it could be none other than the land- 
 lord, who, tempted by the prospect of a rich reward, 
 had gone to find the Germans. Noiselessly I crept 
 over to the door. I was hardly surprised to find 
 it securely fastened. Escape was cut off in that 
 direction. Nor did the window offer any better 
 chance, since the bars were set too closely to permit 
 of my squeezing through. I realised that I was 
 trapped completely. 
 
 But Piaras Gras was not at the end of his tether 
 yet. With some little difficulty I lit my candle 
 again, and searching through the apartment placed 
 my dispatches in a hiding-place where it would have 
 taken my good host a keen search to find them. 
 
 Looking to the priming of my pistols, I slowly 
 undressed. A sound sleep would sharpen my wits 
 and refresh my body. I was bound to the inn for 
 to-night, at least. Litde the use of distressing myself 
 because of it. With which sage reflection I blew out 
 my light, and was soon snoring in earnest. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 BETRAYED 
 
 The sun's rays were streaming into the room when 
 I awoke. The storm had passed away, leaving few 
 indications of its fierceness. Dressing quici^ly, I 
 went over to the door. I half expected to find it 
 still fastened, but it yielded to my touch. I smiled 
 to myself at the cunning of mine host, who took such 
 care that I should have no suspicion of his delicate 
 attentions. Ah I he was a clever fellow, that moun- 
 tain aubergiste. 
 
 Lilting a merry tune, I descended to the room 
 where I had had my supper the previous night. I 
 caught the sound of clinking glasses and the singing 
 of a deep-throated German drinking song. The 
 landlord's search had been a success then, and my 
 enemies were here. Dar m'fhocal, they had not 
 caught me napping. 
 
 As I entered the song ceased, and the eyes of 
 half a dozen German dragoons were turned on me. 
 With a merry greeting I swaggered over to the fire, 
 and threw myself into a seat in the shadow, where I 
 could see everything which went on. The pause at 
 my entry had been only momentary, then the beer 
 began to circulate freely again. For a while I sat 
 watching them furtively. But all the time I could 
 see that one of them was eyeing me curiously. 
 Should I happen to cast my eyes in his direction he 
 would look away. Seated apart from the others, he 
 did not seem to take much interest in their merri- 
 
 37 
 
38 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 ment. He was a typical Teuton, tall and fair-haired, 
 with large, curling moustachios, but had little of 
 the stolid, heavy look which marked the others. 
 Noticing his glances out of the corner of my eye, I 
 resolved to play a bold game. I knew I was standing 
 over a mine which might burst at any moment 
 beneath my feet. Already I was half-suspect. 
 
 Throwing myself backward in my seat, I sang out 
 lustily to the landlord, whose villainous face appeared 
 in the doorway just then : 
 
 "Landlord, what have you for breakfast? I feel 
 as hungry as the devil himself. Hurry, good land- 
 lord, I would fain get to the road again." 
 
 Watching him keenly, I saw a look of surprise 
 pass over his sullen countenance. Evidently he 
 had not expected to see me there. But he replied 
 that he would set food before m.e in a few moments. 
 
 " And, landlord," I added, as if in afterthought, 
 ** serve me up a couple of bottles of your best wine. 
 Perhaps some of you gentlemen would join me in a 
 bumper." And I addressed my question particularly 
 to the tall, fair-moustachioed trooper. 
 
 My proposal was greeted with loud shouts of 
 approval by the soldiers, who turned eagerly towards 
 me. When the landlord had set the wine before me, 
 I shouted out loudly as I filled the glasses: 
 
 " Now, comrades, a toast. Here's to Prince 
 Eugene, and confusion seize the French arms. May 
 we always serve under so brave a soldier." 
 
 I could see the sudden start of the fair-haired 
 corporal, and the long look which the landlord, who 
 had not yet quitted the room, gave in my direction. 
 But neither made any remark. The room fairly 
 rocked with the shout which rose from the others. 
 With much clinking of glasses and many guttural 
 ** Hochs," the toast was drunk. Bumpers were 
 raised to my health. And when the landlord, look- 
 ing much puzzled, had set before me a substantial 
 meal, they crowded round and plied me v/ith 
 questions as to whither I was bound, what service I 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 39 
 
 had seen, and many others, which I found very 
 embarrassing. But I replied to them all with 
 apparent frankness and becoming condescension. 
 By veiled hints and half-uttered innuendoes I man- 
 aged to convey the idea that I was a secret agent of 
 the Imperialists. 
 
 When at last I rose from the table and ordered the 
 landlord to bring round my horse, I was congratu- 
 lating myself on the cleverness with which I had 
 hoodwinked them, and had half turned to mount the 
 stairs again, and secure my dispatches. 
 
 But the sergeant of the troop, a grizzled old 
 soldier, stepped up to me, and saluting stiffly, 
 
 t" P" m Pi T* K F* ri * 
 
 '' Herr Captain, you cannot go for the present. 
 We must search you. We have information that a 
 Frenchman carrying dispatches will pass this way, 
 and our orders are to let no one pass without bemg 
 searched. Orders are orders, Herr Captain, and 
 you, a soldier, will see they must be obeyed." 
 
 "But surely, sergeant," I replied easily, ** the 
 servants of His Highness of Savoy may pass 
 unmolested? " 
 
 '* Herr Captain, our orders are not to let anyone 
 pass," the sergeant replied. 
 
 Here was a pretty pass. I, an officer and a 
 gentleman, to be searched by these rascals. What 
 matter, when the wine is drawn one must drink it. 
 I saw that it was useless to protest. Resistance 
 would only injure me. Shrugging my shoulders, I 
 signified my submission to the inevitable, but 
 remarked that the Prince's servants were privileged, 
 and that he would demand an account, should they 
 be delayed or insulted. 
 
 " My work," I declared, '* demands secrecy and 
 dispatch. The Prince does not brook delay. "^ 
 
 The sergeant was nonplussed and stood pulling at 
 his grey moustachio for a few seconds, then turned 
 away. But the fair-complexioned corporal came 
 over to him, and they whispered together for a long 
 
40 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 while. As for myself, I sat down again, and taking 
 a cigarro from my pouch, lit it and puffed away 
 nonchalantly, awaiting the outcome of the conference. 
 At last the pair seemed to have decided on their 
 course and turned towards me, the sergeant remarking 
 apologetically : 
 
 ''Orders, Herr Captain." 
 
 Without any further remark I pulled off my long 
 riding boots and threw them to the pair, who 
 examined them minutely. Then my garments 
 followed one by one. But nothing rewarded their 
 search. I had taken good care of that. When the 
 search had concluded and I looked at their blank 
 faces, I could not help remarking banteringly: 
 
 " Sergeant, what would His Highness the Prince 
 Eugene say should he learn one of his officers had 
 been searched. Ma foi ! how he would rage." 
 
 The grey-haired old veteran saluted and murmured : 
 ** Our orders are strict, Herr Captain." 
 
 ** Eh bien ! " I went on airily, " the incident has 
 been unpleasant, but it is over. I am a soldier and 
 understand." 
 
 The sergeant drew himself up and saluted, and in a 
 few minutes I was in the saddle pricking forward. 
 The beauty of the scenery impressed itself vividly 
 upon me as I rode ahead. At either side of the gorge 
 through which my way led me rose up lofty crags, 
 rising one above the other in savage grandeur, their 
 sides covered with dense foliage, which served to tame 
 much of their wildness and savageness. Through 
 the breaks in their serrated line the sun peeped in now 
 and again, its shafts turning the heavy moraing mist 
 into a curtain of shimmering gold. All around me 
 was the gurgle and roar of foaming torrents rushing 
 through their rocky beds, leaping and bounding from 
 rock to rock in mad delight, and finally disappearing 
 far below in the depths. A wild, fierce splendour 
 was everywhere. It was not in my nature to be 
 entirely oblivious of it, but grand and imposing 
 though the scene was, and much as I would have 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 41 
 
 gloried in it at another time, the safety of my dis- 
 patches was my chief care at present. I had pledged 
 my word to carry them with all speed to Ivrea. My 
 honour was at stake. Their loss would blast my 
 whole career and cover me with shame. As I thought 
 of them lying there at that accursed inn a shiver ran 
 through me. But then, I thought, they were safe 
 enough. The soldiers, after their ill success, would 
 return whence they came. They would stick to the 
 letter of their instructions, and search only the 
 persons of such travellers as they might meet. The 
 aubergiste himself, if he was still suspicious, would 
 hardly think of looking in my room. So I assured 
 myself they were still lying safely in their hiding- 
 place. But I would not feel content till they were 
 again in my hands. Thinking thus, I turned mv 
 horse's head in the direction I had come. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 FOOLED — I WIN THROUGH 
 
 Several hours had elapsed since my departure when 
 I again rode up to the auberge. Throwing my bridle 
 across the post which stood outside, I stepped in. 
 There was no appearance of the dragoons about. I 
 greeted the landlord, who answered me w^th his most 
 ungracious growl, and appeared much surprised at 
 my return. I told him I had lost a most valuable 
 ring, and had returned to see if I might have left it 
 in the room I had occupied. He seemed as if about 
 to refuse me permission, but then thinking better 
 of it he consented, though with a very bad grace. 
 Without further ado I proceeded to the apartment, 
 and in a few seconds the precious papers w^ere again 
 crinkling in my hands. With a sigh of relief, I 
 turned to quit the room, but there on the threshold 
 stood mine host with a mocking grin spreading itself 
 over his ugly countenance. 
 
 " Ah ! ah ! monsieur," he grinned. " We see the 
 little game and a pretty one it is. You thought to 
 deceive Pierre le Bourru." 
 
 How I hated that grinning rascal ! With a shout 
 of rage, I sprang towards him. But he was wary. 
 Quickly he slammed the door shut and I heard the 
 shooting of a heavy bolt. 
 
 '' Ah ! ah ! my clever soldier," he flung back. 
 " Monsieur can cool himself till the Germans come." 
 
 Then his retreating steps sounded out, while his 
 burst of mocking laughter almost drove me mad. 
 
 42 
 
A SWORDSMAN 43 
 
 Furiously I paced my prison. Soundly I rated 
 myself for an addle-pated fool. I, to be outwitted by 
 this wretch, this scum of an innkeeper. 
 
 Just then I heard the trampling of a horse, and 
 going over to the little barred window saw Pierre le 
 Bourru riding away mounted on my horse. Truly 
 this was a turning of the tables with a vengeance. 
 My own horse pressed into service to bring the enemy 
 swarming down about me. This dour-faced land- 
 lord had a pretty sense of humour after all. At the 
 thought a fit of uncontrollable laughter seized me. 
 I laughed till my sides ached — laughed till the tears 
 ran down my cheeks. Then, seating myself on the 
 side of the bed, considered the situation. 
 
 My previous knowledge told me that there was 
 little chance of escape. Both the door and window 
 had been taken good care of. My wits, sharp 
 though they might be, could not secure me a passage 
 through either. No ! there was nothing for it but to 
 await the advent of the enemy, for I was convinced 
 they would soon be here. Meanwhile I would see 
 what I could do to fortify my position. Dragging 
 over the heavy table which stood in the centre of the 
 room, I placed it against the door, which opened 
 inwards, thus barricading it very effectively. Then 
 I piled against it furniture of all kinds, so as to make 
 it more secure. Having made these dispositions, I 
 sat down again and waited. 
 
 I had not long to wait. In about half an hour after 
 the departure of the landlord I heard the jingle and 
 rattle of a troop riding hard towards the inn. From 
 my point of vantage at the window I marked them ; 
 about twenty heavy dragoons, with a tall officer at 
 their head. With the grizzled old sergeant whom 
 I had hoodwinked rode Le Bourru, a satisfied smile 
 on his face. 
 
 They dismounted. Their footsteps sounded on the 
 stairs, and I heard the bolt shot back, but thanks 
 to my barricade the door refused to move. With 
 furious oaths my assailants battered on it, but it was 
 
44 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 made of stout oak, and their efforts were vain. In a 
 pause of the din a stentorian voice called out : 
 
 '* Within there. Open and submit to the soldiers 
 of the Emperor." 
 
 ** Come and take me," I called back. 
 
 *' We are many. You are only one," the same 
 voice replied. " Deliver your dispatches and you 
 can go free. If not, we will take them and hang you 
 to the nearest tree." 
 
 "So be it, monsieur," I called back again. 
 " Come in and take them." 
 
 Silence ensued and then the blows commenced 
 again with redoubled vigour. Still the door held and 
 showed little sign of yielding. But another sound 
 fell on my ear, and turning swiftly I was just in time 
 to catch a glimpse of a helmeted head through the 
 window. Ah ! that devil of a landlord had shown 
 them a way to outflank me. Another instant and I 
 would have been too late. With a furious thrust of 
 my good sword I spitted the dragoon, who was raising 
 his musquetoon to fire, right through the shoulder. 
 With a yell of pain he threw up his arms and dropped 
 from the ladder, which had been raised to the 
 window, down on to the heads of his comrades who 
 were crowding up after him, who in turn toppled 
 over on to the ground beneath. With a blow from a 
 long piece of timber which I tore off the bed, I 
 thrust the ladder away from the window, and heard 
 it crash down. Peeping out cautiously, I had the 
 satisfaction of seeing it break across in the middle. 
 Nothing would touch me from that side, for the 
 present at least, I thought grimly. 
 
 Meanwhile the attack on the door was going on 
 unabatedly. It must soon yield. Already it was 
 trembling and showed one or two great cracks. The 
 greatest danger I feared was the possibility of bullets 
 reaching me. However, I would be sheltered by the 
 jutting of the wall, which formed a deep nook, and 
 offered very fair shelter, while at the same time giving 
 me command of the doorway. Failing a bullet I 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 45 
 
 might hold that opening against a hundred. Sud- 
 denly the upper half of the door gave way with a 
 loud snap, and the faces of the troopers showed 
 through the opening. Before a lightning-like thrust 
 one of them fell back. 
 
 Then the work commenced in deadly earnest. 
 Several musquetoons flashed out, but their bullets did 
 little damage other than to bring showers of plaster 
 tumbling about my head. When a face showed over 
 the barricade I lunged forward. Already several 
 troopers had felt the bite of my steel. My pistols 
 were of little use to me, because I would have had to 
 expose myself too much to aim, and I feared to 
 risk it. 
 
 There came a sudden lull, followed by a shivering 
 blow upon the barricade. Instinctively I knew what 
 had happened. They had secured a beam, and were 
 using it as a ram. My barrier shook and groaned 
 beneath the heavy impact. Recklessly I leaped 
 from my shelter and my pistols spoke out. My shots 
 were answered by cries of pain. Rapidly reloading, 
 I fired again at random into the mass of men who 
 were dimly visible. But the places of the fallen men 
 were quickly filled, and beneath the tremendous 
 blows the barricade yielded. A couple more blows 
 and the doorway was clear. A rush up the narrow 
 stairs, and throwing aside my now useless pistols, I 
 was again hotly engaged. 
 
 The advantage of position was mine. In their 
 eagerness the soldiers hampered one another. Light- 
 ning-like, my sword flashed hither and thither. Cut, 
 thrust and parry, till my arm ached. 
 
 But the unequal combat could not go on for long. 
 The weight of numbers was slowly forcing me back. 
 What mattered all my science and swordplay against 
 this swarm of yelling fiends ! And then I caught the 
 gleam along the shining barrel of a long pistol 
 levelled at me out of the gloom. I stepped back into 
 the friendly angle. Had I been standing in my 
 former position Piaras Grds's adventure had ended 
 
46 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 here. Mayhap, the kindly angel who watched over 
 my birth was hovering near at this instant. As it 
 was, the ball grazed my neck, leaving a slight wound, 
 which began to bleed profusely. At the sight the 
 dragoons set up a fierce yell of delight. The yell 
 was answered by my biting sword. 
 
 My backward step had left the opening uncovered 
 for an instant. Only an instant ; still long enough 
 to lose me my advantage. Backward I was forced, 
 disputing every inch. And then they were in, pell- 
 mell. With back to the wall I fought doggedly. 
 My blade levied a bloody tribute. I was not the 
 most noted swordsman in Sheldon's for nothing. 
 But still the Imperialists swarmed like flies. 
 
 Suddenly a loud, authoritative 'voice rang out. 
 There was a cessation of hostilities, and I leaned back 
 against the wall. The tall German officer who com- 
 manded the troop stepped forward, saluting with his 
 sword, a salute which I returned in kind. 
 
 " Herr Captain," he said, "may I make you a 
 proposition ? " 
 
 " Monsieur," I returned, bowing politely, " I will 
 hear it." 
 
 " Ach, Herr Captain," he commenced, "it seems 
 to me this business will take a long time. Now if we 
 might settle it man to man. I am noted amongst my 
 comrades for my fencing. You have given us proofs 
 of your prowess. Can we not settle it between our- 
 selves. If I defeat you, you will deliver us your 
 dispatches, for, Herr Captain, we know you are carry- 
 ing most important ones to Marshal le Due de 
 Vendome at Ivrea." 
 
 " And, Monsieur I'Officier, what do I gain by your 
 proposal ? " I queried. 
 
 " Ach, Herr Captain, you see what vou gain bv a 
 continuance of the combat," and he 'looked round 
 smilingly. " We have the greater force, besides we 
 have firearms." 
 
 ** And, Monsieur I'Officier," and I bowed, 
 ** suppose I refuse? " 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 47 
 
 He smiled grimly. *' In that case, Herr Captain, 
 the musquetoons." 
 
 For several minutes I considered. The dragoons 
 were resting on their arms, interested spectators of 
 the scene. On the one hand I was fatigued and sur- 
 rounded by the enemy, who, counting the captain, 
 numbered at least a dozen still. What chance had 
 I against them ? At least a hand-to-hand fight with 
 their officer would prevent the use of their musque- 
 toons against me, and might by some unforeseen 
 happening render my escape possible. On the other 
 hand, what right had I to place the Duke's dispatches 
 at the hazard of a personal fight. Even were I to 
 purchase my life at their expense, how was I to 
 appear before him with my pledged word broken. 
 But a glance round showed me that no other way lay 
 open. And then I looked at the German, who stood 
 regarding me silently, and said with a shrug of my 
 shoulders : 
 
 " Monsieur I'Officier, you leave me no choice. But 
 with your permission," and I bowed, ** I will smoke 
 a cigarro. May I offer you one ? " 
 
 He accepted the one I offered him, and we seated 
 ourselves, he on the only chair which the room 
 afforded, I on the sadly wrecked bed. My sang-froid 
 evidently puzzled him, for he looked at me strangely. 
 But I had gained my object. The respite would be 
 of immense service to me when I stood before him, 
 for, truth to tell, I sorely needed rest after my 
 struggle. 
 
 As we smoked we chatted of the engagements we 
 had been in, of the chiefs we had served under, of 
 the many things which interest soldiers. Then he 
 told me of his country, far-away Silesia, and I talked 
 of the gleanns and valleys of Green Eire. Surely 
 men are incomprehensible beings, and to think that 
 in a few moments our swords would seek each other's 
 breasts. 
 
 At last we throw away the ends of our cigars, and 
 range out opposite each other. The swords hiss 
 
48 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 along one another; then with nerves tense, eyes 
 watching every motion, the duel begins. 
 
 From the first I saw that I had the advantage. 
 Taller than I, he had the longer reach, but my light- 
 ness of foot and swiftness of thrust outmatched his 
 slower, heavier movements. Still he was no mean 
 antagonist, and had he engaged me while I was 
 fatigued, I would have been hard put to rnaintain 
 myself. As we fought his coolness deserted him, and 
 his thrusts became wilder. No doubt he had counted 
 on an easy victory. Purposely I prolonged the fight, 
 gradually forcing him towards the door, to which he 
 had his back. A dozen times I could have run him 
 through, but the time was not yet ripe. I had no 
 desire to kill him. He had been generous, if unwit- 
 tingly so. 
 
 Now the door was within easy reach, and un- 
 guarded, for the dragoons were all clustered round, 
 eagerly intent on the outcome of the fight. Even 
 my friend the landlord had slouched into the room 
 and was gazing on, trembling, possibly, for the fate 
 of his reward. And then I saw my opportunity. 
 With a swift lunge I stabbed fiercely over the 
 German's guard, and ran him through the chest. 
 
 In a bound I was through the doorway, and 
 stumbled down the dark stairs, over some wounded 
 men, who lay groaning on it. Through the parlour 
 I rushed, past the hostess, who was powerless to s_top 
 me, even if she had the will, and was in the open. 
 My horse was still standing where the landlord had 
 left him. With a spring I was on his back. A 
 couple of shots rang out, and I felt the searing pain 
 of a bullet shoot through my left arm. My shout of 
 defiance pealed out as I went flying down the road, 
 my horse answering in gallant style to my urging. 
 Glancing back I saw five or six of the dragoons 
 mounting hurriedly, and on they came in hot pursuit. 
 For several miles they hung on my heels, but finally 
 I outdistanced them. 
 
 Late that evening I rode into the camp before Ivrea, 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 49 
 
 weary and spent, with my left arm hanging useless, 
 but my dispatches safe. And when I stood before 
 the Duke, and handed them to him, all soiled and 
 bloody as they were, 
 
 "Monsieur de Gras," he remarked, ''you have 
 done wonders." 
 
 " Milord Mar^chal," I replied, ** I had pledged my 
 word," and then the night came down. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 IN HOSPITAL — A MEMORY OF THE HOMELAND 
 
 The wound which I had received in my arm and 
 the consequent loss of blood brought on an attack of 
 fever which confined me to a bed in the military 
 hospital for several weeks. But war had toughened 
 my frame, and in about a month after my dangerous 
 adventure I was on my feet again, albeit feeling a 
 trifle weak, and looking worn and haggard. I still 
 carried my arm in a sling, but w^as allowed to move 
 about unrestrictedly. Eager as I was to return to 
 duty again, the surgeons refused to allow me to go, 
 and though I grumbled at the enforced idleness, I 
 had to obey. 
 
 In the hospital I met several soldiers of Dillon's 
 Regiment, invalids like myself whom the chances of 
 war had forced to rest a while. It was only natural 
 that we should feel drawn towards each other. We 
 were of the same race, we served in the same Brigade, 
 we spoke the same tongue. Matters surely which 
 gave sufficient passport to each other's good graces. 
 Daily we gambled and smoked together, assisting 
 each other to while away the idle hours which hung 
 heavy on our hands. 
 
 With one of these officers, Muiris O Briain, a 
 lieutenant k la suite in Dillon's, I became particularly 
 intimate. He was a grey-haired, grizzled veteran, 
 one whose undoubted talents and length of service 
 ought to have entitled him to a much higher rank 
 than that of simple lieutenant. At home in a national 
 
 50 
 
A SWORDSMAN 51 
 
 army a colonel's epaulettes would have graced his 
 shoulders. Here in the service of a foreign king he 
 had to be content with the rather insecure position of 
 lieutenant k la suite. From my first meeting with 
 him I felt irresistibly attracted to a closer intimacy 
 with him than with any of the others. Some subtle 
 sense seemed to urge me on. I could not define to 
 myself that craving, that longing, but there it was, 
 ever present. His name conveyed little to me. True, 
 I had often heard my father speak, particularly in his 
 later days, of a Muiris O Briain who had been his 
 friend. But with what happenings in his life he had 
 been connected I could not recall. Perhaps I had 
 never heard, for there are some memories of which 
 our elders will not speak. But I soon came to know 
 of the reason of his attraction for me. 
 
 One day we were seated alone, for most of the 
 others had resumed duty. We were smoking and 
 chatting of the homeland to which our thoughts so 
 often wandered, when O Briain suddenly inquired: 
 
 '' Gr^s, what name did your father bear? " 
 
 ** He was named Seaghan," I replied. " Seaghan 
 Gras of Snaidhm. He served from the Boyne to 
 Aughrim with the King's Army. He was with the 
 force which defended Limerick after that day, and 
 when it had fallen, and our enemies had triumphed, 
 he came back to Snaidhm to enjoy the repose which 
 our masters had agreed to allow to us, but he did not 
 long enjoy his rest in his old home. Ah, it was a sad 
 day which saw the fall of Limerick ! " 
 
 *' Aye, you are right," said O Briain. ** Sad in- 
 deed ! It reduced many brave and gallant gentlemen 
 to the dust, and drove them out, wanderers from their 
 own land. Ah, a sad and bitter day! And your 
 father is dead? " 
 
 "Yes," I replied. ''His heart broke after the 
 downfall of our cause. He could not bear to look 
 on the ruin which had overtaken the land — to see 
 himself reduced to the position of a serf in the 
 country where he had ruled as lord, a foreign under- 
 
52 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 taker lording it in the halls where he had spent his 
 youth and manhood. One day we laid him in the old 
 churchyard at Snaidhm. And I am here in France, 
 the last of the Grdses." 
 
 " Boy," he cried, laying his hand on my shoulder, 
 " I knew your father well. He was the man who 
 saved my life on the disastrous day of Aughrim. 
 Grieve not for him. At least he is at rest at home in 
 the land he fought for, while I, his companion on 
 many a field of blood, am here, a soldier of fortune, 
 condemned never again to see my home. Is not he 
 much happier than I?" 
 
 "Yes," I cried, seizing his hand impulsively, 
 *' much happier. But why do you say you will never 
 see our country? Perhaps some happy turn of 
 fortune may raise up the fallen cause. Perhaps we 
 shall enjoy our own again. Then could you not 
 return ? " 
 
 I spoke with all the grand enthusiasm of youth. 
 But O Briain shook his head sadly. 
 
 " No," he said, '' my heart tells me that I will 
 never again see the sun sinking down into the sea 
 out over Mothar Ruadhain ; never again gaze on the 
 white horses as they came trooping in from the wild 
 Atlantic. A Dhia na nGras ! how it all comes back 
 to me. The blazing sun sinking lower and lower, 
 down into the trough of the sea. The quiet, gentle 
 breeze blowing in across the waste of waters. The 
 cry of the seabirds borne to my ears. Often I have 
 stood on the tall cliffs and watched the waves lashed 
 to fury bv the wild gale dashing themselves against 
 them, seeking to tear them away from their world-old 
 foundations. But no more I shall gaze on those 
 scenes of my youth. They are gone out of my 
 life, and I am alone, a homeless wanderer. Wife, 
 country, friends, all, all are gone, and I am here, 
 a swordsman in the service of a foreigner, battling 
 in causes with which I have no concern, quarrels 
 which fire me not. Ah, boy, how much I have 
 seen I " 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 53 
 
 His eyes held a far-away, unseeing look. He 
 seemed to have forgotten my presence. 
 
 " Come," I cried, wishing to rouse him from his 
 melancholy, ** tell me of your former life." 
 
 He started and looked at me. Then recollecting 
 himself, he cried : 
 
 " Forgive me, my young friend. For the moment 
 I had forgotten. But these thoughts of dead days 
 surging in on me carried me away into the past. 
 However, you will not find Muiris O Briain offend- 
 ing again with wailings. I am a soldier, but even a 
 soldier forgets himself sometimes." He smiled half 
 sadly. "But you would like to hear my story." 
 
 ** Yes," I replied. ** My poor father often spoke 
 of you." 
 
 "Ah, he remembered!" said O Briain. "My 
 story is brief, but you shall hear it. It is like many 
 another which might be related by our comrades-in- 
 arms." 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 *' I WILL begin by saying that in the whole of Clare 
 there was not a happier man than Muiris O Briain of 
 Ruadhan when in March of '89 King James landed 
 at Kinsale. Young, light-hearted, care-free, I had 
 just been married. How beautiful my Maire was I 
 How I loved mo chailin fionn ! How I treasured 
 every word, every act of hers ! Ah me ! how soon our 
 dream of bliss was over ! When the news of the 
 outbreak of war came to our home she bade me go 
 to take my place with the others in defence of our 
 land. For the foreign king who used us as pawns, 
 I cared nothing. The country called. For it I 
 risked all. I can see her yet standing by our gate 
 in the morning sun waving her scarf to me in farewell 
 as I marched away with my gallant company, her 
 kisses still fresh on my lips. By the Boyne we 
 fought when the King had fled away. Through the 
 campaign which followed I was the companion of 
 the brave men who, buffeted about as the shuttlecocks 
 of foreign policies, still struggled on. Belied, tra- 
 duced, betrayed we were by men who thought only 
 of the good of their parties, not of our country's. 
 My God ! My God ! Will it be ever thus ? Will we 
 never fight for a policy of our own ; must we always 
 spend ourselves in entanglements with policies of men 
 alien to us, building up their strength that they may 
 pull ours down? But I have forgotten. . . . My 
 gallant lads were by my side through all. With them 
 
 54 
 
A SWORDSMAN 55 
 
 I hungered and thirsted, went barefooted and ragged. 
 They never grumbled. They died when their time 
 came for the cause they thought right. 
 
 " During this time I had ridden several times to 
 my home at Ruadhan. My dear one welcomed me 
 with words of joy and love. Then after a few hours 
 spent in her company I rode away again to take my 
 place in the ranks, cheered and comforted by my 
 visit. What need to speak of our struggle I The 
 world has seen how it was maintained against odds 
 the most overwhelming. And then came the awful 
 day of Aughrim, when what had been almost a 
 victory w^as turned in a moment into black, bitter 
 defeat. Some time previously I had met your father. 
 From the first we were close friends. On that day 
 we fought side by side. Our swords flashed together 
 as we drove the foreigners down the Hill of Kilcom- 
 medan and into the morass. And then the disaster 
 came which lost us the day, and began the downward 
 descent of our cause. The death of our general, slain 
 as he led the final charge, snatched success from our 
 hands. I, sorely wounded, was brought away from 
 that fatal field, and it was your father who saved me. 
 It was he, who, accompanied by some of his faithful 
 men, brought me after a long and toilsome journey 
 to rriy far-off home, and then, having placed me in 
 safety, tended by my beautiful Maire, turned his face 
 to Limerick. Boy, I never saw him again, and now 
 he is dead." 
 
 I uttered no word. My companion's story had 
 stirred up bitter memories. He went on : 
 
 ''To him I owe my life. Monuar ! how much 
 better it would have been had he left me there ; had I 
 died on that field knowing that I had done my duty. 
 I would have been spared the lonely years with their 
 painful memories. . . . But," as he noticed the look 
 of pain pass across my face, " forgive me, boy, 
 if I have pained you. Your gallant father did not 
 know. He was not a seer who could scan the future, 
 nor was I. Would to God I had been I . . . For 
 
56 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 weeks, aye, months, I lay on my bed. But love drew 
 me back to life. Maire tended me night and day. 
 In the frenzies of my fever it was her white hand 
 laid on my brow which calmed my struggles. When 
 I rose from my bed, spent and wan, it was her 
 dear arm which guided my tottering steps. . . . The 
 struggle had gone against us. The treaty had been 
 signed. Our army had sailed away. Our position 
 as vassals of the foreigners was secure, so 'twas said. 
 But how secure it was we soon knew. 
 
 ** It was known that I had been active in opposing 
 the conquerors. My name was included in the list 
 of those outlawed, for whom there was no grace. But 
 for some time I lived in peace. Possibly our home 
 away by the wild Atlantic waves was too remote from 
 the seats of power ; possibly the victors were too 
 busy in attending to richer game. But the fatal day 
 came all too soon. I possessed a small estate, not 
 very valuable, yet sufficient for my needs. Poor 
 though it was, it aroused the cupidity of an under- 
 taker named Trasker, who lived near us. It was 
 declared forfeit to the informer, and we were forced 
 to fly. We took refuge in the mountain shieling of 
 a poor retainer, and I might have been happy, for 
 my dear one was by my side. 
 
 " But the black undertaker who had acquired my 
 few acres soon learned of the hiding-place of one 
 who was an outlaw, who had not taken the oath of 
 allegiance, who had drawn his sword against the 
 Government in power. I was abroad one day when 
 to our cottage came this hell-born wretch. He was 
 on my track, and was accompanied by half a dozen 
 soldiers. My poor Maire told him I was not at home, 
 but the foul wretch endeavoured to force her to his 
 embrace. Enraged at the resistance she made, and 
 alarmed by her screams, the scoundrel emptied his 
 pistol into her fair bosom, and mounting his horse 
 rode away. A Dhia na bhfeart ! the sight which 
 greeted my eyes when scarcely half an hour afterwards 
 I returned ** 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 57 
 
 He paused and turned away. I saw the war- 
 scarred frame quiver under the sobs which burst 
 from him. M'anam, how terrible it is to hear a 
 strong man weep I Gritting my teeth to keep back 
 the lump which rose in my throat, I turned away niy 
 head. But dashing the tears from his eyes, O Briain 
 resumed : 
 
 " On the floor just inside the threshold lay mo 
 chailin aluinn. The blood still flowed from the 
 wound in her breast. With a cry of anguish I raised 
 her up. 
 
 *' ' What fiend has done this? ' I cried. 
 
 "' Trasker!' she gasped. 'He came to arrest 
 you.* 
 
 ••'The hound!' I cried. 'His own blood shall 
 flow for it. But I must bind up your wound, and 
 then seek assistance.' 
 
 •• ' 'Tis useless,' she replied, her poor voice scarcely 
 above a whisper. ' I am going from you, Muiris. 
 Promise me that you will leave the country at the 
 first opportunity.' 
 
 " ' I promise,' I replied, my voice choked with 
 grief. 
 
 •' • I am content,' she said, ' Dia go deo leat i mbaile 
 agus i gc6in. Kiss me, Muiris, before I go.' 
 
 •' Passionately I pressed my lips to her paling ones. 
 A smile passed over her beautiful face, and with 
 scarcely a sigh she passed away in my arms." 
 
 He bowed his head on his hands, and was silent 
 a long time. Again he went on : 
 
 "There beside my murdered love I swore to be 
 revenged on her murderer. At night I went to the 
 village which lay a few miles away. Accompanied by 
 some of the poor people who had known her, I laid 
 her to rest on her mother's breast, beneath the walls 
 of the ruined old abbey where our tyrants had for- 
 bidden us to bury our dead unless it were consecrated 
 to the usages of the new faith. She had no shroud 
 but her cloak, no requiem save the sad night wind 
 blowing in from the sea, no light save the rays of the 
 
58 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 pale moon rising up over Mothar Ruadhain. In 
 silence we worked, in silence we prayed. But before 
 I turned away from that grave which held all that 
 had made life dear to me, I again, on bended knees, 
 renewed my vow of vengeance." 
 
 He paused, and I could see the tears coursing down 
 his rugged cheeks. And I, my eyes wet, bent my 
 head. 
 
 " I think I became mad after that," the low voice 
 resumed again. '' I cared not what became of me. 
 The people — ah yes, they protected and sheltered me, 
 but they had troubles and griefs of their own. I 
 wandered up and down through the country, search- 
 ing, searching, always searching for the devil, 
 Trasker. I could have gone to his house, but that 
 was guarded. No, he would come to me, and 
 
 then For weeks and weeks I watched and waited. 
 
 Food, rest — they mattered not to me. A pair of 
 loaded pistols were my only possessions. They were 
 enough. And then one night I met him. . . ." His 
 voice rose exultantly. Even at this distance of time 
 he felt the fierce joy of that meeting. " Aye, I met 
 him. It was on the road which runs by the cliff. 
 Crouched down in the shadows I watched him 
 approach, riding slowly. He was whistling to him- 
 self, unconscious of danger. Ah, he did not know 
 I was there! I sprang out on the road, and shouted 
 to him to halt. In the moonlight I looked a veritable 
 fiend, with my unkempt beard and hair. And so I 
 was; so I was," he whispered. 
 
 *' Pulling up his horse, he demanded my business. 
 
 " ' You will soon know,' I cried, seizing his rein. 
 * Dismount.' 
 
 " He tried to draw a pistol, but I sprang on him, 
 and seizing him in my arms dragged him to the 
 ground. In my madness I had the strength of a 
 dozen men. 
 
 " ' Now,' I cried. ' Look to yourself, George 
 Trasker. Either you or I die to-night.' 
 
 ** ' Who are you, madman? ' he cried. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 59 
 
 " ' You pretend you do not know me, dog,' I 
 shouted. ' But too well you know Muiris O Briain, 
 whose wife you murdered.' In the moonlight I could 
 see the terror leap into his eyes. ' Here, take this 
 pistol. Hell-born devil, I will give you a chance for 
 your life,' and I pushed a pistol into his hand. But 
 the cur wished to save his vile life. 
 
 " ' O Briain,' he cried, his voice shaking with fear. 
 * You are a poor man. I will make you rich again. 
 I will restore your lands.' 
 
 '* ' Can you restore my murdered wife to life? ' I 
 shouted. ' What care I for lands or gold? I seek 
 only vengeance,' and I struck him on the mouth. 
 
 " Again he tried to parley with me. Aye, he even 
 kneeled to me, but I laughed and spat in his face. 
 Suddenly he raised his pistol and fired at me, but 
 the bullet only grazed my cheek. Springing to his 
 feet, and casting the empty weapon into my face he 
 turned and fled. But as he reached the cliff I fired. 
 With a wild yell he leaped out, and went crashing 
 down on the beach far below. And I, looking down 
 on his ghastly, upturned face, whispered in my heart: 
 
 " ' Maire ! Wife! You are avenged.' 
 
 *' Amongst the cabins of the peasantry I hid 
 myself till the hue and cry raised by the authorities 
 had blown over. Then I crossed to France, and 
 again took up my place in the Regiment of Clancarty. 
 With it I served for several years, and had risen to 
 the rank of captain, but the Peace of Ryswick in 
 '98 caused the reduction of many of the regiments 
 of our Brigade, and destroyed the chances of 
 advancement of many a brave fellow; and you see 
 me now — grey-haired, war-battered, a simple lieu- 
 tenant a la suite. But I care little. My vow of 
 vengeance has been kept. On many a field of blood 
 I have struck at the forces of the Government, of 
 which Trasker and his like were minions. I have 
 no other care; no other wish. I live on having no 
 possessions but my sword, no memories but those 
 of a murdered dear one — a murdered country. 
 
6o A SWORDSMAN 
 
 Hopes? — ah, they are dead I Some day soon my 
 life will go out in the hurly-burly of the charge, and 
 cast into the pit where so many nameless ones shall 
 lie; Muiris O Briain will be at rest, and his spirit — 
 happy in its release — shall seek that country where 
 it will meet again that dear one whose body lies 
 beside the old abbey walls near to Mothar Ruadhain." 
 
 His voice died away. For a long time we were 
 silent. At last he raised his head, and laying his 
 hand upon my shoulder, said: 
 
 *' That is all. You know now how I came to 
 know and love your father ; why I pained you by 
 saying it would have been much better had he let 
 me die at Aughrim. But, Gras, for your father's 
 sake let me be a friend to you. Should you ever 
 need one do not fear to call on me. You are young. 
 A friend, even though he be a beggar, may be useful 
 at times." 
 
 I gripped his hand and pressed it warmly, and as 
 I did so I little thought how soon I would sorely 
 need a friend. I left him then. He was still 
 oppressed with the gloom of his sad story, nor could 
 I banish his sadness. Mo bhron, how many stories 
 were like to his ! How many men of the Brigade 
 had wrecked homes, blasted hopes, to mourn ! 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 A girl's appeal 
 
 My arm rapidly improved. I hoped soon to receive 
 the order which would release me from hospital, and 
 send me spurring away on my fleet-footed charger to 
 join my squadron. My spirits rose at the prospect, 
 and I went about whistling and singing in my light- 
 heartedness. But I reckoned not with Fate. It had 
 other things in store for me. One evening the ring 
 of spurs sounded outside my door. Springing to 
 open it, I perceived an officer standing on the 
 threshold. He handed me a letter from Monsieur 
 le Due which ordered me to report myself at his 
 quarters next day to take up duty as aide-de-camp. 
 For the present I was to attach myself to Dillon's 
 Regiment till I would receive further orders. The 
 letter would be sufficient introduction to the regi- 
 mental commandant — M. le Comte Arthur de Dillon. 
 
 When the aide had withdrawn, I hastened off to 
 see O Briain, who had again resumed duty. 
 
 *'HaI" he cried, when he had read the letter. 
 " You are a fortunate fellow, Piaras. There are 
 many in camp who would give their eyes to be 
 appointed to the Marshal's staff. The Duke has 
 taken a liking to you." 
 
 " I wish he hadn't," I grumbled. " I would 
 much rather return to my own regiment than remain 
 here in the Duke's service." 
 
 "Hush!" cried my friend. "Let no one hear 
 you say so. The Duke is a stern disciplinarian, and 
 
 6i 
 
62 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 would not approve of your questioning his com- 
 mand. Come, we will go to see our colonel." 
 
 M. de Dillon received me very kindly, and having 
 read the Duke's letter, assigned me quarters in the 
 regimental cantonments. Next day I reported myself 
 at the Duke's quarters. It was yet early, and I had 
 to wait some time before he came to me. Apparently 
 he had only risen from bed. His hair was frowsy, 
 and his dress untidy. Altogether he appeared not 
 to have quite recovered from the effects of a night's 
 carouse. Withal he had a handsome face, though 
 it was sadly marred by dissipation. As I stood 
 saluting he inquired kindly if I had fully recovered 
 from my illness, to which I replied that I felt fully fit 
 to undertake any duties he might assign me to. He 
 appeared pleased, and remarked: 
 
 '* Monsieur de Gras, you will wonder why I have 
 not sent you back to your regiment, but I like the 
 men of your nation, and would like to see more of 
 you. Your service of the other day has shown me 
 that you are a brave soldier." 
 
 I saluted in recognition of the compliment. With 
 such flattery M. le Due had gained the goodwill of 
 his soldiers, who loved him in spite of his faults, 
 and they were not few. 
 
 ** You will report yourself here daily," he went 
 on. '* I have little doubt you will fulfil my expecta- 
 tions of you. Till to-morrow you are free, then my 
 chief of staff will assign you duties." 
 
 He turned away, and feeling myself dismissed I 
 returned to my own quarters. Thus I found myself 
 in the service of the Duke — a unit of his personal 
 staff. I wondered to myself whether it would turn 
 out well or ill for me. It was not a position which 
 fell every day to the lot of a poor lieutenant, and I 
 ought to have been satisfied with such a mark of 
 favour; but even so T would have preferred to have 
 gone back to Sheldon's. However, the first duty of 
 the soldier is obedience. He must learn to subor- 
 dinate his will to that of others. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 63 
 
 For some days I followed the routine of duty laid 
 down for me, and then an incident occurred which 
 came near blasting my whole career, and placing me 
 before a firing platoon ; or, at the very least, con- 
 signing me to a lonely cell in the Bastille. But 
 looking back at it now I cannot say that I regret my 
 action in the matter, however much I may regret its 
 consequences; nor do I think that, placed again in 
 like circumstances, I would act differently. 
 
 One day I received from the Duke's own hand a 
 letter to be conveyed to a part of the cantonments 
 which lay some distance away from the little village 
 where Milord Due had his quarters. He had 
 instructed me to deliver the letter only to the person 
 to whom it was addressed: '' M. le Chevalier de 
 Frobin, Colonel of the Regiment of Beam." Mount- 
 ing my horse I galloped off to the residence of the 
 noble Colonel. Striding up the steps of the house 
 — one of considerable pretensions — where the com- 
 mandant lived, I knocked, and being at once 
 admitted, was conducted into a pleasant morning- 
 room, while the soldier-servant went to seek his 
 master. 
 
 Left to myself I gazed round the lofty room, 
 which was furnished in very luxurious style, much 
 more luxuriously than one would expect the quarters 
 of an officer engaged on active service to be. But 
 the commandant, I reflected, was extremely fasti- 
 dious in his tastes, and wished to surround himself 
 with all the elegancies of his Parisian hotel. Seated 
 there in the high-backed chair I mentally drew a 
 portrait of him. Tall, well-built, he was dandyish 
 in his style of dress — the true court-gallant. Young 
 (he was scarcely more than my own age), dark- 
 complexioned, with black hair and moustachio, he 
 was a very handsome man. But his black eyes, set 
 closely together, gave to his face a rather cruel, 
 isinister look, which detracted somewhat from his 
 handsomeness. For the rest he had the reputation 
 of being a brave soldier, a great gambler, and a most 
 
64 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 accomplished rou6. From the first I had taken a 
 dislike to the dashing Chevalier. On the few occa- 
 sions we had met at the Duke's quarters he had been 
 courteous enough. Nevertheless he always grated 
 on me; nor could I tell why. Intuition, doubtless. 
 
 Suddenly the stealthy opening of a door inter- 
 rupted my train of thought. I looked expectantly 
 towards the door by which I had entered, expecting 
 to see the Chevalier enter. But then, he would hardly 
 come so secretly. I almost cried out in astonishment 
 as I saw advancing from behind a heavy silken 
 portiere which draped the further portion of the 
 room, a girl, her fingers on her lips as if to enjoin 
 silence. As she came towards me I had time to 
 note that she was tall and beautiful, of a dark, Italian 
 type of beauty, with great black eyes, which held a 
 look blended of hope and fear. She could not have 
 been much more than twenty years of age. So 
 astonished was I that, after my first start of surprise, 
 I sat gazing mutely at the fair stranger coming 
 towards me. When she reached my side she bent 
 her head, and whispered in my ear: 
 
 " Monsieur, one who is wretched craves your 
 help. Torn from my home and held here a prisoner 
 by this wretch, de Frobin, I have no one to appeal 
 to. Will you assist me? " 
 
 I regarded her in astonishment. She, a prisoner 
 at the mercy of the Chevalier ! In truth it was 
 horrible to think of. I felt myself going cold at the 
 thought. Knowing, fearing, could I refuse to listen 
 to her appeal ? But cold reason whispered to me, 
 dare I consent? If I were to consent to listen what 
 would be the outcome of it? Would I not arouse 
 his enmity? And what then would be my chances 
 against the powerful Chevalier, the friend of the 
 Duke, and one highly thought of at Court? The 
 Duke! Might he not understand and protect me? 
 But I knew sufficient of him to force me to the belief 
 that he would side with his favourite, who could 
 command his ear in a way I could not. However, I 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 65 
 
 was an Irishman. I could not be deaf to the voice 
 of distress. 
 
 Interpreting my silence unfavourably, the girl 
 said, as she half turned away: ''Ah, you also! 
 You are in league with this roue," and I could see 
 the bitter tears gather in her eyes. 
 
 " Heaven forbid! " I cried, in a low voice. " If 
 I can be of any service to you, mademoiselle, 
 command me." 
 
 "Kind Heaven be thanked!" she breathed fer- 
 vently. Then hurried on as a quick footstep made 
 itself heard in the hall. " I cannot speak now. The 
 Chevalier must not know that I spoke to you. If 
 you would learn more come to-night at nine. If 
 Heaven is kind I will be at the little green ^ door 
 beside the grove. Now, not a word to anyone." 
 
 Before I had time to reply she was gone. Hardly 
 had she glided behind the portiere when the Chevalier 
 came in. He greeted me pleasantly enough, and 
 having read the letter I had brought, requested me 
 to inform the Duke that he would be at his quarters 
 at eight. 
 
 Back at my duty again I pondered over the girVs 
 strange appeal. The affair puzzled me very much. 
 Several times the thought came to me that it was a 
 trap designed by someone who might feel aggrieved 
 at my staff-appointment, to entangle me with the 
 Chevalier, and through him with the Duke. But 
 I rejected this possibility. I could not believe my 
 appointment could lead to such a plot. Was the 
 girl mad, I wondered? But no. No light of mad- 
 ness gleamed from her dark eyes. Nor could I 
 believe that she was fooling me; that only the 
 desire for a little secret intrigue had prompted her. 
 No, her distress was too evident for that. I would 
 have spoken with Muiris O Briain but for the silence 
 she had enjoined on me. So I shrugged my 
 shoulders. My honour was pledged. I would at 
 least hear the girl's story. 
 
 The hours fled away, and nine o'clock found me 
 
66 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 at the tryst. I had scarcely taken my stand by the 
 little green door, having left my horse tied some 
 distance away, when I felt a touch on my arm, and 
 a voice whispered : 
 
 " You have come, then." 
 
 Turning, I perceived in the darkness the form of a 
 girl, my suppliant of the morning, for I recognised 
 the low, sweet voice. Bowing, I replied: 
 
 *' Mademoiselle, I never break a promise." 
 
 " Oh, thanks, thanks for your trust," she cried. 
 '* God has at last sent me a friend. Oh, how I have 
 prayed for this ! " 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I inquired in a low voice, *' what 
 of the Chevalier? " 
 
 *' Fear not," she hastened to reply. *' He rode 
 away in the direction of the camp about an hour ago. 
 Susanne, the woman who watches me with never- 
 sleeping eyes, has gone to the camp also, doubtless 
 to see some soldier lover, leaving me in charge of 
 another maid who is less careful in her watch than 
 she. I managed to prevail on her to allow me to 
 walk in the garden. Thus I have found my oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 "Let us hurry then, fair mademoiselle," I said, 
 for I had no desire to be discovered in such a place. 
 " Your story is not yet known to me. I do not know 
 why you wish for my help." 
 
 ■*' My story is short, and easily told," she began 
 eagerly. '' When you hear it I know you will not 
 refuse me help. I am held here captive by this rou6, 
 daily exposed to all the dangers which an unpro- 
 tected girl in the hands of an unprincipled man can 
 be exposed to. I am the daughter of the Vaudois 
 chief, Henri Neffer, who has long held out against 
 the French, and fought for his legitimate prince, 
 Victor Amadeus. As such he has been pursued 
 relentlessly by your forces, but my father knows our 
 Alpine fastnesses. . . . Ah, monsieur, I know you 
 are a French soldier, but you are also an honourable 
 gentleman." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 67 
 
 She paused. There was an accent of fear in her 
 voice. I could feel, rather than see, her eyes fixed 
 anxiously on me. 
 
 ** I hope so, mademoiselle," I replied. ** My 
 loyalty to my flag does not prevent me from being 
 that." 
 
 ** I thank you," she said, and then went on. 
 *' One day to our mountain home came a force of 
 Frenchmen, guided by one who had sold us for gold. 
 They were led by this Chevalier de Frobin. My 
 father was absent with the greater part of his band. 
 Even so the few brave men who were on guard made 
 a fierce resistance, but they fell one after another, and 
 I became the prize of the leader. Ah, monsieur, did 
 you know all I have gone through since that unfor- 
 tunate day ! The insults to which I have been daily 
 subjected. How sorely I have been tempted to end 
 it all!" 
 
 Her voice faltered and broke. She bowed her head 
 in her hands and wept bitterly. For a few minutes I 
 was silent. Her distress pained me. All my doubts 
 of her had gone. The horror of her position, a 
 captive here in this house, appalled me. But what 
 could I do? To appeal to the Duke against the 
 Chevalier, I felt would be worse than useless. He 
 would only feel amused at the gallantries of his friend. 
 Besides, this girl was the daughter of Henri Neffer, 
 the guerilla chief, who had so often and so success- 
 fully struck deadly blows against his convoys of 
 supplies. If no worse fate befell her, he would hold 
 her as hostage for her father's good behaviour. 
 What then was to be done? For something should 
 be done to rescue the girl from her unhappy position. 
 Ha ! If she could escape. Gently I laid my hand on 
 her shoulder. 
 
 ** Weep no more, mademoiselle," I said. " If I 
 can aid you, I will do so." 
 
 She seized my hand and covered it with kisses. 
 And I confess her action made me hot with 
 embarrassment. 
 
68 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 " May God bless you for your goodness,'* she 
 cried. 
 
 " Pray God that He may assist us," I said, *' for 
 indeed this task is a difiicult one. Mademoiselle, 
 have you any friend who would receive you if you 
 were outside our lines? " 
 
 " I know only one," she replied. '* A poor 
 shepherd who lives amongst the mountains about 
 three hours' ride from this. If I could reach his 
 cottage he would convey word to my father." 
 
 "Good!" I ejaculated. I had been thinking out 
 a plan. If I could procure the assistance of Muiris 
 
 Briain I was convinced I could manage the affair. 
 Muiris could wait close to the Chevalier's with horses 
 till I came to him after being dismissed from duty. 
 Then if the girl could slip away from the house we 
 could ride as rapidly as possible to the shepherd's 
 house she had mentioned. Of course there was the 
 difficulty of getting through our lines. A girl riding 
 with two officers at night-time would arouse dan- 
 gerous comment. If we should be stopped and 
 questioned I feared it might be fatal to our scheme. 
 And then there was the danger of being met by 
 patrols. It was clear we could not venture to take 
 the girl undisguised. Ah, why not disguise her as 
 one of ourselves ! That would make everything easy. 
 
 1 rapidly outlined my plan to my companion. 
 
 ** But," I said, " for your greater safety you must 
 become a man, a soldier. We dare not risk attempt- 
 ing to pass the lines with a girl." 
 
 ** I see that," she replied, ''and I will assist in 
 every way possible. I will become a soldier even for 
 the time. Mon Dieu, I would do more than that to 
 escape from this house." 
 
 *' I will make myself responsible for the procuring 
 of a uniform," I said. *' But how can I convey it to 
 you?" 
 
 She thought for a moment. 
 
 *' I have a beautiful bracelet," she said, "which 
 Susanne, my gaoler, covets very much. I have little 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 69 
 
 doubt I could bribe her with it to convey a bundle or 
 letter to me. You understand, she might not be 
 averse to a little intrigue if it paid her." 
 
 *' No, no," I cried, "that would never do. The 
 woman would take your bribe, and then betray us. 
 No, we must not trust our secret to her. Is there not 
 any other way? " 
 
 ** Unless you might come to me secretly," she said. 
 "Ah, that is it ! Do you see that window from which 
 the light streams out? " and she directed my gaze 
 towards a window which was brightly illuminated. 
 " That is my sleeping apartment. If you could come 
 unseen, you could climb by the ivy which covers the 
 wall. It is thick and strong." 
 
 "That is the better plan," I said. " Much safer 
 than to place ourselves in the power of a third person. 
 But you must be careful not to rouse suspicion. Go 
 on as if nothing had happened, as if you were re- 
 signed to fate." 
 
 " Have no fear," she replied. " Aimee Neffer can 
 be careful. She will play her part." 
 
 " I will come again to-morrow night when darkness 
 has fallen. Be you on the watch till you hear my tap 
 at your window. Can you keep a light burning?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, "I will do so. But hark I 
 They are seeking me. I must away." 
 
 Even as she spoke a call in a woman's voice rang 
 out on the night air. 
 
 " Farewell, my generous friend," she whispered. 
 "Kind angels guard you for my sake, and your 
 own." 
 
 And then she was gone. Going to where I had 
 tethered my horse, I mounted and was soon back in 
 camp. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE ESCAPE 
 
 MuiRis O Briain threw himself into the affair with a 
 will after I had explained to him the danger in which 
 the girl stood. True, he pointed out the danger which 
 might come to me if the part we were about to play 
 should reach the ears of the Chevalier. He even had 
 a wild idea about calling out that gentleman, but I set 
 myself against such an absurd proposal. 
 
 " What good would a duel with him do this poor 
 girl? " I asked. " Even if we were to defeat him, 
 she would still be a prisoner. True, by that means 
 we might bring the affair to the ears of the Duke, but 
 I fear that would do little good, merely exchange one 
 prison for another. And probably I'd erect a prison 
 for myself, for the Duke does not approve of duels 
 between his officers when on campaign, even if the 
 gallant Chevalier were to agree to meet either of us." 
 
 *' Aye, I suppose you are right," growled Muiris. 
 ** We can only fall back on your plan in that case." 
 
 We arranged everything to our satisfaction. I had 
 discovered that the Chevalier had been ordered for 
 special duty the following night. 
 
 "That will be our chance," I said. *' We must 
 have everything arranged for then. While he is 
 away the watch on the girl will be less strict." 
 
 ''That is so," said O Briain. *' We are agreed 
 then? " 
 
 "Yes," I replied. "You will see to the horses. 
 And not a word to anyone." 
 
 70 
 
A SWORDSMAN 71 
 
 That night I went again to the Chevalier's. 
 Stealing through the garden, I climbed the ivy which 
 I found afforded a good foothold, and tapped at the 
 window from which the light shone out. Cautiously 
 it was opened, and Aime^e Neffer looked out from the 
 darkness, for she had extinguished the candles. 
 
 " Hush ! " I whispered. '' It is I, Piaras Gr^s." 
 
 In a few words I told her of our arrangements. 
 
 ** I will come to-morrow evening," I said, **and 
 will bring with me an officer's uniform. Dressed as 
 one of Dillon's, we need have little fear of discovery. 
 I will come as soon after nightfall as possible. You 
 must then dress in the uniform as quickly as you can, 
 and descend by this ivy without any undue sound. 
 You will not be afraid of the downward descent? " 
 
 '' I am a mountaineer," she replied simply. 
 
 *' Good. And you must be alone as much as 
 possible to-morrow evening. Feign sickness, sulk, 
 or do something that you may retire to your room 
 when the night comes. They will hardly suspect a 
 sick girl has any other intention than that of retiring 
 to rest. It will remove you out of the reach of 
 watchful eyes. If we can allay suspicion till the 
 morning all chance of pursuit will be gone." 
 
 *' I will manage it," she replied. " I am locked 
 into my room each evening. Susanne sleeps in the 
 next room. But I am often sulky, and refuse to 
 allow her to come into my room. At such times I 
 drag a table across the door. I will do the same 
 to-morrow night. . . . Oh, mon ami, I tremble to 
 think that we may fail ! " 
 
 ''What! Afraid I" I cried. "The daughter of 
 Henri Neffer ought not to fear. You will soon be 
 amongst your native mountains again. You must 
 not think of failure." 
 
 " And I had thought that I was brave, but I see 
 now that I am only a weak girl, affrighted by a little 
 danger. Ah, mon ami, what risks you are running 
 for my sake ! ' ' 
 
 **Do not speak of them," I said. "There are a 
 
72 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 hundred men in our regiment who would run similar 
 ones. What matters all the risk if we succeed, and 
 we will succeed. Adieu then till to-morrow evening." 
 " Adieu," she whispered. " I will be brave. 
 When you come you will find me ready." Then I 
 swung down the ivy and was away. 
 
 The night which was to see our attempt fell black 
 and threatening. Had we ourselves had the arrang- 
 ing of the weather w^e could not have arranged it more 
 suitably. It was about an hour after dark when 
 
 Briain and I rode up to the clum.p of trees beside 
 which he was to wait. Leaving him there I stole 
 forward. Soon I was tapping at the window. It 
 was opened and Aimee Neffer gazed into my face. I 
 handed her the bulky bundle which I had tied to my 
 belt, whispering : 
 
 " Everything goes w^ell. We could not have 
 selected a better night. And you, have they any 
 suspicion? " 
 
 " I do not think so," she replied. '' They imagine 
 
 1 am asleep." 
 
 "Hurry, then. Hurry!" I cried. *' I will await 
 you below." 
 
 At the foot of the ivied wall I waited. But the 
 delay was not long. Soon I heard the rustle of the 
 ivy, and then the girl laid her hand on my arm, and 
 whispered : 
 
 " I am ready." 
 
 ''Come then," I said. " Draw your cloak closely 
 round you for the night is an unpleasant one, but it 
 is all the better for our purpose. O Briain awaits 
 with the horses." 
 
 I felt her start, and hastened to reassure her. 
 
 '* He is a brother-officer, mademoiselle. One whom 
 I can trust. Without his aid I fear I would have been 
 unable to help you." 
 
 My assurance satisfied her, for she whispered: 
 
 *' If he is a friend of yours, monsieur, I am con- 
 tent. Let us go on." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 73 
 
 In a few minutes we reached the place where 
 
 Briain waited. He called out in a subdued voice 
 as we glided towards him : 
 
 **Is that you, Piaras? " 
 
 " Yes," 1 replied with similar caution. '* Has 
 anything occurred? " 
 
 " No," he answered. " Everything is quieU But 
 
 1 did not think you could have been here so 
 quickly." 
 
 I laughed, and, mounting, we urged our horses 
 onwards through the darkness. The rain beat into 
 our faces as we pressed forward, but we regarded it 
 as a blessing. Nothing more fortunate could have 
 happened. The pouring rain would keep everyone 
 under cover except those whose duties compelled them 
 to be abroad. If by any mischance we should meet 
 a patrol they would think we were on special duty. I 
 had little fear of danger till we reached a point where 
 the road branched off to the mountains. This place 
 I knew was guarded by a strong outpost, fortunately 
 of Dillon's Regiment. I would avoid it if possible, 
 but if not I had taken means to find out the pass- 
 word. Still I feared if we were stopped the presence 
 of our female companion might compromise us. I 
 therefore whispered an injunction to her to be silent 
 whatever happened. Hardly had I done so when the 
 tramp, tramp of a body of men coming towards us 
 struck on my ear. There was no chance of turning 
 aside. Even had there been I would not have done so. 
 Had they seen us it would seem strange that three 
 French officers should avoid one of their own patrols. 
 So we rode on. 
 
 When the challenge came I answered, and then, 
 almost stunned with the knowledge, I heard the voice 
 of the Chevalier saying, as he rode up to us: 
 
 " Ah, Lieutenant de Gras, you ride late. Morbleu I 
 it is a devilish night." 
 
 ** Aye," I laughed. *' One which might be better 
 spent in camp. But weather has litde consideration 
 for soldiers." 
 
74 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 " No," he cried. " A bottle of wine and a pack of 
 cards would be better work on such a night as this 
 than outpost duty. But whither are you bound?" 
 
 "To the Col yonder." 
 
 **Ah, you are not far from it now. Messieurs, a 
 good night to you," and he gave his men the order 
 to march. 
 
 ''M'anam," whispered O Briain to me as we 
 spurred on, *' what ill wind drove the Chevalier in 
 this direction to-night? " 
 
 ** It must have been an ill one indeed," I replied. 
 ** But it was fortunate for us that the night v/as so 
 black, else he would have recognised the mademoi- 
 selle, and then the game was lost." 
 
 And then I turned to reassure the girl whom I felt 
 must have been sadly alarmed by the unlooked-for 
 meeting with her enemy. We did not approach the 
 pass where the Dillons held guard. Instead, guided 
 by our fair companion, we turned away from the road 
 we were pursuing, and made our way through a 
 rocky defile which would carry us away beyond the 
 outpost, and far outside the French lines. We had 
 to lead our horses over the rough, broken ground, 
 and once nearly ran into a small outlying party. It 
 was only the ring of a musket-butt against a stone 
 which warned us of its proximity, and we turned aside 
 just in time. We met with no more danger, and 
 when we had toiled on for a couple of hours more, 
 ever striking deeper and deeper into the mountains, 
 I judged we ought to be close to the end of our 
 journey. Hardly had the thought come to me, when 
 Aimee Neffer exclaimed : 
 
 '' Monsieur de Gras, we have almost reached the 
 end of our flight. Five minutes more, and we will 
 be at the cottage of Gaspard, of which I spoke to 
 you." 
 
 Standing beside her we gazed on the scene of 
 savage grandeur spread out before us. During our 
 ascent the storm had died away, and now the moon 
 sailed through a calm, peaceful sky. Its pale light 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 75 
 
 showed us the mountains rising up all around us, 
 grand and magnificent, their cleft and riven sides 
 clothed with dark pine forests. Away in front of us 
 a foaming torrent leaped down the mountain side, 
 bounding, tumbling from rock to rock, glittering 
 silver-like in the moonlight. The sound of glacier- 
 born waters was everywhere, laughing, babbling, 
 shrieking as they flung themselves down to the plains 
 below. The moan of the mournful night-wind 
 wandering through the dark forests came to us. I 
 confess I felt a feeling of gloom and loneliness creep- 
 ing over me standing there on that mountain side. 
 Possibly my companions felt it too, for O Briain 
 cried : 
 
 " M'anam istigh ! This place oppresses me." 
 
 " Yes," remarked the girl. *' 'Tis a lonely spot. 
 But the cottage of Gaspard lies yonder," and she 
 pointed towards a small grove of pines on the right. 
 ** Come. Let us go." 
 
 I followed the direction of her pointing finger, but 
 could perceive nothing. However, she led on unerr- 
 ingly and in a few minutes we stood before a little 
 cottage in a small clearing. It was dark, and for all 
 the appearance of life about it, might have been 
 uninhabited. But Aim^e Neffer knocked loudly, and 
 raising her hands to her lips uttered a peculiar cry. 
 Hardly had it died away when the door was thrown 
 open, and a tall, black-bearded man stepped out. He 
 was armed with a long-barrelled musket. As he 
 caught sight of us he raised his piece to his 
 shoulder. 
 
 *' Peste ! " he cried. '' This is no place for French 
 spies." 
 
 " Hold ! Hold, Gaspard ! " cried the girl with a 
 ringing laugh. *' Do you not know me? " 
 
 " Now God be praised ! " cried the mountaineer, 
 lowering his musket. " 'Tis the chief's daughter." 
 
 "None other," she replied. "And these gentle- 
 men," pointing to us, " are my very good friends. 
 If it were not for them I would not be here." 
 
76 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 *' Tis a pity," I heard him growl. " How easily 
 I could put a bullet through their heads." 
 
 And watching the glitter of his eyes from beneath 
 his heavy brows I knew how gladly he would do so. 
 But the girl whispered in his ear, and he turned 
 away. 
 
 ** We part here, my brave friends," Aim^e NefTer 
 said, turning to us. "I had little thought that I 
 would owe so much to Frenchmen." 
 
 " We are Irishmen," interjected O Briain. 
 
 *' Ah, they are brave men, but our mountaineers 
 owe them little love. Monsieur O Briain, I shall 
 always remember the service which one brave Irish- 
 man has rendered me." 
 
 *' 'Twas but little, fair mademoiselle," replied 
 gallant Muiris, and he raised her slender hand to his 
 lips. " May you never again find yourself in the 
 need of a friend, a chailin dubh dilis." And then he 
 turned away to follow Gaspard who was to see us on 
 our way. 
 
 " Monsieur de Grds," cried Aim^e, addressing me, 
 ** what can I say to you? How can I thank you for 
 all that you have done for me? I shall always 
 remember. In the future I may be able to pay back 
 some little of my debt." 
 
 "Mademoiselle," I hastened to reply, *' you owe 
 me nothing. Were it not for O Briain, what could I 
 have done? " 
 
 " Mon ami, you cannot deceive me," she cried. 
 *' Only I know how much I have to repay you. 
 Adieu, and may the future only hold bright fortune 
 for you." 
 
 Before I could prevent her she caught my hand in 
 both hers, and pressed it passionately to her heaving 
 bosom. She bent her head, and I heard her sob. 
 
 *' What, mademoiselle ! " I cried. " Why do you 
 weep ? ' ' 
 
 She made no reply, but turned and fled in through 
 the open door of the cottage. 
 
 *' A strange girl," I muttered to myself. For a 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 77 
 
 few seconds I stood expecting her reappearance, but 
 she did not come. Then, turning, I followed the 
 others who had gone some little distance. I felt 
 puzzled, and not a little disturbed by the girl's 
 passionate outburst, and her strange leave-taking. 
 Looking back when I had gone a little way, I thought 
 I caught sight of a figure outlined in the moonlight, 
 gazing after us. But mayhap it was only fancy. 
 
 Guided by the taciturn Gaspard we quickly made 
 our way down the mountain. I knew that it was only 
 his devotedness to his chief's daughter which pre- 
 vented our surly companion from turning his musket 
 against us. At last when our watch-fires began to 
 twinkle out in the plains afar off, he left us, snapping 
 out an uncivil '' good night," which sounded more 
 like a curse. Alone we continued our way back to 
 our cantonments. 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE WHIPPING OF THE CHEVALIER 
 
 A COUPLE of weeks ran swiftly by after that midnight 
 ride. During those weeks, though I had met the 
 Chevalier once or twice, he had given no sign that 
 he suspected m.e of having assisted his fair prisoner 
 to escape. In the rush of duty brought about by the 
 increased activity with which the Duke was pushing 
 forward the siege, I had little time to think of other 
 matters, and the whole adventure was becoming 
 blurred, fading from my memory, pushed away by 
 more pressing cares. But it was brought back again 
 with staggering suddenness. 
 
 One night as a number of us were seated in a ruined 
 old house which stood well beyond the radius of fire, 
 where we whiled away many an hour which lay heavy 
 on our hands with a game of ecarte, or a hazard at 
 dice, the Chevalier swaggered in. His coming sur- 
 prised us, for it was seldom he honoured our poor 
 little salon with his presence. Evidently he had not 
 come for play, for he seated himself, and stretching 
 out his legs gazed superciliously round, all the while 
 that he twirled his long moustachio. 
 
 "What brings the Chevalier here, I wonder?** 
 asked my opponent. Captain de Lussan of the 
 Regiment of Vaisseaux. '' I hardly think it is for 
 play." 
 
 " 'Tis not likely," I replied, but instinctively I felt 
 that his visit concerned myself. However, I con- 
 tinued to play coolly, though I did not lose sight of 
 the visitor. 
 
 78 
 
A SWORDSMAN 79 
 
 Suddenly I saw him start, and rise quickly to his 
 feet. His gaze was directed towards me, as he rose 
 and sauntered across the room. Halting at our table 
 he remained looking silently on as our cards flicked 
 from our hands. When the hand had been played, 
 he bowed low to me. 
 
 ''Ciel! but you do play prettily. Monsieur de 
 Gras," he cried, sneeringly. '' A word in your ear. 
 Are you as successful with the cards as you are in 
 playing the gallant? " 
 
 Captain de Lussan sprang to his feet, protesting 
 loudly against such interference with play. 
 
 " Monsieur le Chevalier," he cried, " 'tis not usual 
 for outsiders to interfere with players. If you wish 
 to play you can do so. But we must not have inter- 
 ruptions of this kind." 
 
 " Easy ! Easy, M. le Capitaine ! " said de Frobin. 
 " I have a little affair with this gentleman." 
 
 *' But you could have settled it outside," protested 
 the other. 
 
 "Ah, M. le Capitaine, this is the place," replied 
 the Chevalier. " Where all may hear. Privacy is 
 seldom craved for by gentlemen of the type of M. 
 de Gras, except on certain occasions. Is it not so, 
 monsieur? " and he looked at me. 
 
 But I made no reply. The time for words, and 
 perhaps deeds, would come later. The affair at our 
 table had attracted the attention of everyone present. 
 The click of the dice and the flick of cards had begun 
 to die away, and many curious glances were cast in 
 our direction. 
 
 " Monsieur," the Chevalier went on, addressing 
 himself again to de Lussan, " I did not think that 
 honourable gentlemen would play with a vaurien 
 such as this, who thinks to bring himself into the 
 prominence which he craves by meddling in the 
 affairs of men so much higher in rank than himself." 
 
 Still I made no remark. My silence was enraging 
 the Chevalier. Raising his voice so that it rang 
 through the whole room, he cried : 
 
8o A SWORDSMAN 
 
 " If this young friend of mine were of equal rank 
 I would force him to fight with me. Since he is not, 
 I will proceed to chastise him so that he will know the 
 consequences of further meddling in affairs which 
 only concern his superiors." 
 
 He sprang towards me, raising a whip which he had 
 kept concealed up to the present. Apparendy I had 
 been as unconcerned as if his remarks had not been 
 heard by me. Now I sprang up, and interposing my 
 chair between myself and my enemy, inquired 
 calmly : 
 
 " May I inquire, M. le Chevalier, of what you 
 accuse me? If then you cannot condescend to fight 
 with a poor lieutenant we will see about this chastise- 
 ment of which you talk so glibly." 
 
 " 'Tis well known to you what I accuse you of," 
 cried de Frobin. " You, vaurien, who came like 
 the galerien you are to steal in the night. You, 
 who are not fit to wear the King's uniform. Ah, 
 galerien, how unfortunate it is for you that I met 
 you that night with your mountain wench 1 Had I 
 only known ! Do you understand now, gueux? " 
 
 "Ah, how easy you make it, monsieur," I 
 remarked. " Eh bien, if you hold it a crime in me to 
 assist a lady to escape from the house where she was 
 held against her will for his own vile purposes by 
 the noble gentleman who owns it, I will confess to 
 it. I do not know, of course, by what standard 
 that gentleman measures his conduct, but I, a poor 
 lieutenant, hazard the opinion that he, rather than 
 the rescuer, deserves the title of galerien. What is 
 your opinion, monsieur? " 
 
 My enemy was beside himself with rage. With- 
 out replying, he kicked aside the chair and made a 
 rush at me. We struggled for a few seconds, but I 
 wrenched the whip from his hands. Holding him 
 tightly, I gritted out : 
 
 " Now, monsieur, you will apologise for your vile 
 conduct and words in regard to the lady of whom you 
 have spoken. Your insults to myself I despise." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 8i 
 
 ** Never,** he shouted. "Dog of an Irishman, 
 never ! " 
 
 "Monsieur," I cried, ** you craved for publicity 
 for your chastisement of me, now you shall have it 
 for your own." 
 
 But a hand was laid on my arm. 
 
 ** De Gras," a voice, the voice of de Lussan, 
 whispered, '* the affair has gone far enough. You 
 will ruin yourself." 
 
 But I shook off his hand. I believe at that moment 
 I would not have listened to the voice of Milord 
 Mar(^chal himself. I was in a white heat of passion. 
 With a vicious swish the whip sang through the air 
 and twined itself round the shoulders of my enemy. 
 Swish — swish — swish it sang till my arm ached. 
 The Chevalier cursed and struggled wildly, but it 
 was little use. As in a vice I held him. At last, tired 
 out, I flung him into a corner where he lay for several 
 seconds. Snapping the whip into a couple of pieces, 
 I cast it to him. 
 
 "M'anam, M. le Chevalier," I cried, ** you will 
 now know what it is to insult a lady. She, fortun- 
 ately, is beyond your power. If, however, you find 
 that your rank does not now preclude you from 
 seeking revenge on me, you will find me willing 
 enough to give you satisfaction." 
 
 With the look of a fiend de Frobin got on his feet. 
 
 '* De Gras," he cried hoarsely, *' you have won 
 this time. But we will meet again. Take care who 
 wins then." 
 
 He strode out amidst the hush which had fallen 
 on the assemblage. When he was gone they found 
 voice. From varying standpoints they discussed the 
 occurrence, but most of them agreed that though the 
 punishment I had meted out had been severe, it was 
 well deserved. But they shook their heads. They 
 feared I would suffer for it. Questioned by some of 
 them as to the reason for the quarrel, I related it 
 from the beginning, suppressing only the name of 
 the girl. It was better that they should hear the 
 
 F 
 
82 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 story from my lips than from those of the Cheva- 
 lier's friends. Muiris O Briain, who had come in 
 while the Chevalier's punishment was proceeding, 
 came over to me. 
 
 "This is unfortunate, Piaras," he said. "This 
 de Frobin will work you harm. But if he should 
 challenge you I hope you will allow me to act 
 for you." 
 
 " What! " I cried, " and defy the Duke's anger? '» 
 
 ** Aye, even that," he replied. " M'anam, Piaras, 
 but you did lay on. I fear your meeting with that 
 girl will turn to your disadvantage. If you had not 
 met her you would not have to face all this trouble.** 
 
 "Muiris,** I asked, "what if she had been my 
 wife or sister? ** 
 
 " Aye, you are right,** he said. " You acted as 
 your father's son should act. . . . You will send his 
 seconds to me? '* 
 
 " Yes,'* I replied, gripping his hand. I was 
 coming to know what his friendship meant. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE CHALLENGE — THE DUEL — ARREST 
 
 To my quarters the following morning came two 
 officers. After the usual courtesies which pass 
 between gentlemen on such occasions had been 
 exchanged, the older of my visitors, a little, dried- 
 up man, but a beau to his finger-tips, whom I 
 recognised as the Comte de Bellerive, stated the 
 object of their visit. He spoke pompously and con- 
 descendingly, in a manner hardly likely to soothe me. 
 
 ** M. le Chevalier de Frobin," he began, bowing 
 almost to the ground, '' has entrusted us with the 
 direction of an affair which concerns you, M. de 
 Gras " — again he bowed — '* and himself. He alleges 
 he has been grossly injured and insulted, both in 
 person and honour. But he does not wish to be 
 harsh with one who may not understand the code 
 which governs such matters. He might enforce his 
 undoubted right of compelling you to fight.'* 
 
 '* Ah, he might!" I remarked. ** And does he 
 not? " 
 
 *' No," replied the Comte. *' He does not wish to 
 exercise that right. He thinks it would be unfair. 
 You know how noted a duellist he is. He therefore 
 offers you an alternative." 
 
 "And the alternative is?" I inquired suavely. 
 
 ** That you make I'amende honorable in the 
 presence of the same persons before whom you 
 insulted him the other night." 
 
 *' Ah I how kind, how generous! " I mused aloud. 
 
 83 
 
84 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 Surely the Chevalier was revealing himself in a fiew 
 light. ^ ^ 
 
 "Ah, but he is generous! " echoed the little man, 
 but his companion gave a quick glance at me, as if 
 he were not quite so satisfied with my attitude as the 
 Comte seemed to be. 
 
 *' You will understand his position, I am sure,' 
 went on the Comte. ** He, a noble of France, 
 cannot waive the rights of his rank. If you were of 
 equal rank " 
 
 " But I am not," I put in. " I am only a simple 
 lieutenant, and not worthy of the honour of being 
 run through by this nobleman's rapier." 
 
 The Count looked quickly at me. He seemed to 
 feel that he had put the case crudely. 
 
 ''What is your decision?" cried the other, who 
 was becoming impatient. 
 
 *' Suppose I were to refuse to make this amende 
 of which you speak? " I asked. 
 
 *' Then," said the Count, who could not keep 
 silent, **our principal, M. le Chevalier de Frobin, 
 will require you to fight. He will waive all the 
 privileges of his rank that he may meet you." 
 
 " Messieurs," I said, ** I will accept the duello. 
 You, Monsieur le Comte, will convey to your most 
 noble principal the expression of my regard for his 
 kindly condescension and consideration for one so 
 lowly. You will find my friend, M. Muiris O Briain, 
 lieutenant of Dillon's Regiment d'Infanterie, at his 
 quarters. He will be prepared to discuss details with 
 you. Messieurs, I have the honour to bid you 
 adieu." 
 
 Bowing profoundly, they passed out. I smiled 
 grimly to myself as I thought of the elaborate fool- 
 ing. Were they fools, or did they honestly believe 
 that I was prepared to make abject apology to this 
 man whom I had thrashed with his own whip? I 
 laughed aloud at the nonsense of it. Surely they did 
 not know Piaras Grds. Forsooth I was to save the 
 honour of the Chevalier at the expense of my own ; 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 85 
 
 to make myself the butt and jeer of the whole camp, 
 because my opponent was placed by fortune in a 
 higher position than my own. Surely these men did 
 not understand; or was it that their understanding 
 had been so clouded by the prejudices of rank and its 
 privileges that they could not understand? 
 
 And then my thoughts wandered to Aim^e Neffer. 
 What would she say if she knew of this outcome of 
 her escape? Would she regret that I had placed 
 myself in such danger for her sake? But I shrugged 
 my shoulders. No doubt she had forgotten me by 
 now, or else looked on me as a quixotic fool whom 
 she had used to her own advantage. The Duke I 
 What would be his action, I wondered? If it 
 should come to his ears I feared I would pay bitterly 
 for it. But I would not draw back now, whatever 
 the outcome. At least if I incurred his displeasure 
 it would be as a brave man, not one who shirked the 
 consequences of his action. 
 
 In the evening Muiris O Briain came to me. 
 
 *' Piaras, a mhic," he cried, " I have been arrang- 
 ing your little affair. Our friend, the Chevalier, 
 has taken litde time about calling you to account. 
 The meeting takes place to-morrow morning and I 
 have chosen swords as the weapons. But his seconds 
 told me they had offered you an alternative." 
 
 •* Aye," I replied, *' they were willing to accept 
 my abject apology, to be made before all those who 
 witnessed the scene last night." 
 
 ''What, they made such a proposal!" cried 
 Muiris. "They must have been fools to think you 
 would accept such an alternative." 
 
 ** More likely men obsessed with the idea of privi- 
 lege," I said. " Need I say that I refused? " 
 
 "No; I would not expect you to do otherwise," 
 said Muiris. " But, Piaras, I understand he is a 
 fine swordsman." 
 
 " So I have heard," I replied. 
 
 ** But keep up your courage. You know some- 
 thing about swordplay yourself. And you must 
 
86 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 win, Piaras. We cannot afford to give the victory 
 to this boaster." 
 
 Then he rushed away to see after some other 
 matters. I tried to banish all disturbing thoughts 
 about the morning's fight from my mind. But, try 
 as I would, I was not successful. The combat itself 
 troubled me little. I would do my best to win. But 
 the black shadow of the Duke seemed to stand out 
 before me threateningly. If the others made such a 
 fetish of privilege, how much the more he, a duke of 
 France I It was in his power to ruin me if he so 
 wished. Thus I tortured myself, but if I had seen 
 the other consequences which were to spring from 
 that unfortunate meeting, I almost think I would 
 have made I'amende honorable. 
 
 The cold, grey dawn of early morning had not 
 long come as we stood in front of each other, ready 
 to commence our deadly work. The face of the 
 Chevalier bore a look of deadly hate, and as he 
 looked at me I could almost feel the glittering, 
 closely set eyes burning through me. For myself I 
 felt no particular anger. I had no other thought 
 than to get finished with the troublesome business 
 as soon as possible. Standing there I felt cold, and 
 wished that it was all over. We were far removed 
 from prying eyes, I thought, and only the dull 
 booming of the guns which had already begun to 
 hurl their missiles against the devoted city came to 
 our ears. That far-off booming was the only evidence 
 we had of the proximity of the camp from which 
 we had ridden away as the stars began to pale in the 
 heavens. Perhaps, I thought dully as their voices 
 softened by the distance came to me, it w^as the last 
 time I might hear them. 
 
 But they were a long time arranging the details. 
 At last the little, dried-up Comte came hastening 
 towards me. He bowed elaborately, and said: 
 
 — Monsieur le Lieutenant, our principal again 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 87 
 
 offers you the chance of withdrawing from this duel. 
 He begs you to think of the Duke's anger." 
 
 " I have done so, but I must face it," I replie ' 
 coldly. ^ 
 
 " He does not wish to ruin you," said the Comtt 
 
 I began to get a litde angry. 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte," I cried, and my voice wa. 
 rather loud, " I cannot understand why you come 
 to me now at this time. Have I not already given 
 my answer? " 
 
 Muiris turned at the sound of my angry voice, and 
 cried out warningly to me. He had been engaged 
 with the other second, and had not noticed the 
 strange proceeding of the Count. He sprang 
 forward. 
 
 " Not another word now," he cried. *' Monsieur, 
 I am surprised that you should lend yourself to such 
 a thing. The time for that is past." 
 
 "Your pardon, monsieur!" cried the little man, 
 backing away; and for once he forgot to bow. ** I 
 had not thought " 
 
 And then the word w^as given, and our weapons 
 crossed with a vicious hiss which seemed to speak 
 of the deadly hate which guided at least one of them. 
 As they hissed and rasped across one another I found 
 myself thinking curiously of the motives which 
 underlay the Chevalier's action. It was hardly 
 alarm for me as to the consequences which might 
 ensue. With such a superb swordsman it needed 
 the full concentration of my mind on the work in 
 hand. I could not afford a divided attention. As 
 I found myself forced back before the swift riposte 
 which almost reached my breast, a light broke in 
 on me. He had played to unsettle my mind. And 
 I, fool that I was, had fallen into his trap. 
 
 Suddenly O Briain uttered a sharp exclamation. 
 The point of the Chevalier's sword had drawn blood 
 from a slight wound in my right shoulder. It was 
 only a scratch, and it steadied me. 
 
 ** Monuar," I heard a tense whisper from 
 
88 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 O Briain. -''SeachainI Seachain, a mhic. Think 
 only of this duel." 
 
 Aye, it was necessary! No more extraneous 
 
 ::)ughts must disturb me. I gritted my teeth as I 
 "bought of the subtlety which might have cost me so 
 ^lear. My whole energies now engrossed in the 
 ^jtruggle, I pressed my opponent with grim determina- 
 tion. I was dead to outside matters. There existed 
 only myself and my opponent. For several minutes 
 we feinted and parried. Then with a sudden turn of 
 my wrist which sent a tingle to my shoulder, I sent my 
 opponent's weapon flying from his grasp. 
 
 " A Ri na nDiil ! " shouted O Briain, as I dropped 
 the point of my sword. " Sin eacht." 
 
 "Strike, galerien ! " shouted de Frobin hoarsely. 
 " Nom de Dieu, strike ! " But I made no sign. 
 
 "Does the Chevalier desire to continue? " asked 
 
 Briain of the Count, who came hurrying forward. 
 "My principal is satisfied. Is it not so, Piaras?'* 
 
 I nodded my head, but the Chevalier broke out 
 furiously: 
 
 "Bah, galerien! I accept no favours at your 
 hands. The fight must go on," and he glared at 
 me, a malignant blaze in his eyes. 
 
 The Count stepped to his side, but he waved him 
 aside, calling loudly: 
 
 " My sword." 
 
 Testing it, the Count handed it to him and stepped 
 back. Again the word was given. For a long time 
 we fought with little advantage. Nothing was to be 
 heard but the sibilant whisper and clash of our 
 weapons as they twined and interlaced in our tierce 
 and parry ; the sound of our deep breathing ; and now 
 and again the booming of the guns. I knew now 
 that the Chevalier was bent on my destruction, but 
 
 1 shrank from the thought of aiming at his death. 
 However, I saw that it would be necessary to disable 
 him in such a manner that he would be unable to 
 continue the fight. I bent all my energies to this. 
 
 Warily we watched each other, nerves stretched to 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 8^ 
 
 their utmost tension, feeling, testing with our blades 
 if the guard of the other was weakening. And then 
 suddenly I saw the opening which I desired. I 
 sought to take advantage of it, when across the air 
 to our ears was borne the sound of galloping horses. 
 Startled by the sound, the Chevalier swerved slightly, 
 and my sword, seeking its intended opening, entered 
 his body. He had swerved only a little, but that 
 little meant all that tremendous space that lay between 
 life and death. My sword deflected even by that 
 hair's-breadth had reached a vital part, and now 
 indeed my opponent would not be able to continue. 
 
 Dropping my bloody sword point I sprang to the 
 side of the unfortunate man, who had staggered back 
 into the arms of the Count. He regarded me with 
 a look full of burning hate. 
 
 ** De Gras," he struggled to say, "you have won 
 again. But beware the Dukel Will you win from 
 him?'' 
 
 A horrible spasm crossed his face. 
 
 '' He may avenge me yet," he gasped out, his 
 voice scarcely above a whisper. But that whisper 
 conveyed all the pent-up hatred of the man. 
 
 We had been so engrossed that we had not noticed 
 the approach of several horsemen till a loud voice 
 cried out: 
 
 "Morbleu! What is this? A duel, by all the 
 gods!" 
 
 Looking up I saw that the speaker was Milord 
 Mar^chal himself, who sat on his powerful bay, his 
 magnificent white plumes waving proudly, gazing 
 on the scene. Dismounting, he came forward, 
 crying : 
 
 " How is this, messieurs? Did you not know how 
 I regarded this duelling? " 
 
 Catching sight of the face of the dead man, he 
 started, and muttered to himself half aloud: '* Mon 
 Dieu! The Chevalier de Frobin dead." 
 
 Then he thundered out: 
 
 ** Speak, some of you." 
 
90 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 The Comte de Bellerive stammered out: ** Milord 
 Due, the Chevalier challenged this gentleman " — 
 pointing to me — *' and this is the result." 
 
 ** And a magnificent result it is," cried the Duke, 
 " by which I have lost one of my best officers. And 
 who is this gentleman who has dared to run counter 
 to my wishes? " He glared at me. 
 
 " Ha ! Lieutenant de Gras," he cried, *' my dispatch 
 carrier. Why have you done this thing? " 
 
 *' Monseigneur," I replied, saluting, " I had been 
 challenged, I should fight. Unfortunately the affair 
 has turned out badly." 
 
 ** Badly indeed for the Chevalier," replied the Duke 
 grimly, " and it may turn out badly for you and 
 all concerned. Messieurs, you will report at my 
 quarters. M. le Lieutenant, your sword. You are 
 under arrest." 
 
 I handed my sword to him, and he bade me mount 
 my horse, which was standing near by, and accom- 
 pany him back to camp. Turning, he gazed for a 
 few minutes into the lifeless features of his friend, 
 whose body now lay on the sward covered with a 
 cloak. 
 
 " Poor de Frobin," I heard him mutter, " he was 
 a brave soldier. We'll never clink glasses again." 
 
 That was all. Then he was the iron soldier once 
 again. Springing into his saddle he spurred on 
 towards the distant camp. I rode with the group of 
 officers behind, his waving plumes seeming to nod 
 at me in menace. My thoughts of the unfortunate 
 man lying back in the woods slain by my sword were 
 sad. To think that his death had come by my hand, 
 even though it were by accident. Ah, why did not 
 the Duke send me back to Sheldon's before this thing 
 had happened? 
 
 Ah, Aimee Neffer I Aimee Neffer! what your safety 
 is costing me ! But as her pleading face rose before 
 my mind's eye, I felt I could not have acted other- 
 wise, even had I foreseen all this. 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE duke's alternative 
 
 I HAD been confined to my prison for a week. It was a 
 weary time. Only my thoughts to keep me company, 
 and an occasional word with the soldier who brought 
 my meals. I learned at this time how terrible are 
 the lives of those condemned to be shut away for 
 years and years from the companionship of friends, 
 from the sight of God's beautiful earth, brooding, 
 ever brooding over the sad thoughts which may not 
 be kept away. As time went on I began to grow 
 despondent. You will understand me when I say 
 that no coward's craven fears oppressed me. I did 
 not fear death, if such were the Duke's wish. I had 
 faced it a dozen times without shrinking. Neither did 
 my conscience prick me as regarded the Chevalier's 
 death. That had been an accident. But I was not 
 hardened enough, nor cold-blooded enough to regard 
 my connection with it entirely unmoved. I would 
 have given much had it never happened. Had it 
 
 been in the fury of battle ! But the past is dead. 
 
 We cannot recall it. No, it was not all this. It was 
 the uncertainty of the whole thing weighing on me; 
 the waiting from day to day with no other occupation 
 than a monotonous pacing from wall to wall, till it 
 seemed as if the hours grew into days, the days 
 lengthened into weeks. 
 
 Then one morning my prison door swung open, 
 and an officer stepped in. Outside in the passage a 
 file of soldiers grounded arms. At last they had come 
 
 91 
 
92 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 for me. Well, anything was better than the misery 
 of waiting. The officer addressed me : 
 
 " Monsieur le Lieutenant, M. le Mar^chal Due de 
 Vendome requires your presence at his quarters." 
 
 " I am ready," I replied, and placing myself in the 
 centre of the file was conducted to the presence of the 
 Duke. 
 
 At our entry he looked up and signed to the officer 
 to go. When we were alone, he sat for some tirne 
 regarding me in silence. I grew fidgety beneath his 
 cold, steady stare. At last he spoke: 
 
 " M. le Lieutenant," he said. " I was just thinking 
 whether I would have you shot." 
 
 I made no reply to his w^ords. They did not call 
 for it, I felt. What reply could I make? And it 
 requires a curious kind of hardihood to comment on 
 such a statement. I did not possess it. 
 
 After a pause, possibly to note the effect of his 
 words, the Duke went on : 
 
 " This duelling has lately lost me a number of good 
 officers. It is well known in camp that I do not 
 approve of private quarrels amongst my officers when 
 on active service. Should this go on I see a time when 
 I will have no one to lead my regiments. We are 
 becoming more dangerous to one another than are 
 the swords or bullets of the enemy." 
 
 Again I was silent. To attempt a reply to such 
 statements w^ould have been foolish. 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated milord. "You do not reply. 
 Why did you fight with the Chevalier? " 
 
 " Because he challenged me," I replied. 
 
 "It pleases you to be facetious," cried the Duke, 
 frowning. " But, monsieur, remember that you have 
 been responsible for the death of one of my best 
 officers, and best friends." 
 
 " And no one regrets it more than I," I cried, 
 eagerly. " But, milord, the fight was forced on me." 
 
 " Ah, and how was it forced on you? " he asked, 
 tapping the gold snuff-box which he held in his hand. 
 
 As briefly as possible I told him all that happened 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 93 
 
 since my first meeting with Aim6e Neffer up to the 
 morning of the fatal duel. Only one thing I kept 
 back, the name of the girl. I felt that the knowledge 
 that I had assisted in the escape of the daughter of 
 such a doughty opponent of the French as Henri 
 Neffer would not prepossess him in my favour. 
 Curiously enough he did not ask for it. To tell only 
 truth, he appeared to pay little attention to my story, 
 seeming to be more interested in an examination of 
 his beautifully chased snuff-box than in what I was 
 saying. But though seemingly so inattentive, he had 
 not missed any part of my narrative, for he remarked 
 when I had done : 
 
 " It is again the old story, cherchez la femme. And 
 you whipped the Chevalier, a noble of France. 
 Monsieur, you are a bold man. But I well know how 
 bold, how reckless you Irishmen are. And I like you 
 for it. Monsieur, you have done well in not attempt- 
 ing to lie to me. For some time back I have known 
 something of what you have told me. Had you lied 
 I would have placed you before the firing platoon 
 within the hour. Even so your life is forfeit. Your 
 crime can only be purged by an extraordinary service. 
 You owe it to the King whom you have deprived of 
 a brave soldier. I could order you to instant death, 
 or send you to the Bastille to live out your life there. 
 But I will do neither. I will offer you an alternative. 
 M. le Lieutenant, you are young. You love life." 
 
 Again his fingers tapped his snuff-box. His voice 
 was as calm as if he were merely engaged in some 
 light, frivolous gossip instead of juggling with a man'a 
 life. He looked at me with his cold, steady gaze. 
 
 ** Milord Mar^chal," I replied, *Mf I said 'no* 
 you might call me boaster or madman ; if I said * yes * 
 you might call me coward or fool. I will only say 
 then that while I do not fear death, having faced it 
 on many occasions, I have no wish to die, but even if 
 such is not my wish, I would not crave for life." 
 
 " Ah, monsieur, you are a diplomatist," cried 
 milord, and a slight smile passed across his face. 
 
94 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 ** A simple soldier, Milord Mar^chal,'* I said, 
 ** diplomacy is beyond me." 
 
 He smiled again, and took a pinch of snuff. 
 
 " M. le Lieutenant," he said, "you are too brave 
 and clever a man to shoot out of hand, or to send 
 back to Paris. But I cannot allow you to go without 
 punishment. I have spoken of an alternative. It will 
 give you a chance for your life. I will set before you 
 this proposition which you may accept or reject as 
 you think fit. But remember if you reject it you will 
 take your stand before the platoon within the hour. 
 I will say to you that my proposition is one involving 
 great danger, possibly the loss of your life. If you 
 carry it through successfully you shall be restored to 
 the military rank from which I have suspended you. 
 If you do not succeed I think it will be hardly 
 necessary for me to punish you. The Sieur de la 
 Gen^vre" will have taken care of that/' and Milord 
 Due leaned back in his chair, regarding me the while 
 as if he were trying to read my thoughts. 
 
 Standing there before him, I think I bore his 
 scrutiny well, gave little sign of the struggle going 
 on within me. I may have paled a little, but I suppose 
 it would have been only natural. Very few of us are 
 so tired of life that we can regard entirely unmoved 
 its loss. And I was young, as the astute Duke had 
 taken care to remind me. Only in the commencement 
 of my career. It was indeed a frightful position to 
 be in, and that through no deliberate fault of my own. 
 The Duke was avenging his friend only too well. 
 
 " I will set before you this proposal of mine which 
 may save you from the platoon," resumed the Duke. 
 ** Up amongst the mountains beyond Susa," and he 
 pointed to a map spread out before him, " command- 
 ing the pass which leads from Briangon to that place, 
 stands the castle of the Sieur de la Gen^vre. Formerly 
 an ally of ours, he has lately gone over to the Duke 
 of Savoy, Victor Amadeus. To our convoys coming 
 through the pass he has done much damage. You 
 understand? ** 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 95 
 
 I murmured " Yes." 
 
 "This castle of the traitor is almost impregnable. 
 It would take an army to conquer it. And I, monsieur, 
 have not that army. Neither have I the time to spare. 
 I set before you then the task of securing this man, 
 and bringing him here where he will be held as 
 hostage for the good behaviour of his followers. I 
 do not disguise from you that the task is a difficult 
 one. But it is one which one or two men can effect 
 more easily than a regiment. A regiment would rouse 
 opposition which would render their efforts useless. 
 One or two brave men may effect the task. You 
 follow me." 
 
 ♦'Yes," I replied. 
 
 ** It may be necessary that the one who undertakes 
 this task may have to gain admission to this strong- 
 hold. He may not. I care not by what means he 
 accomplishes it, so that it is accomplished. The only 
 thing which matters to me is the securing of the person 
 of this M. de la Gen^vre, and the bringing of him 
 here. It is simple. If you succeed you will have your 
 life and military rank restored. If you fail you will 
 not escape, I think, with your life from the Sieur. 
 Either way lies death. There it is a possibility. Here 
 it is a certainty. That is the difference. What is 
 your choice? " 
 
 For a long time I made no reply. I knew not what 
 to say. If I refused this alternative my career was 
 ended. If I accepted and went on this quest my career 
 might also end. Whichever way I looked only death 
 beckoned. But in the camp it stood close to my side. 
 Amongst the mountains it was shadowy, more remote 
 from me. Shrugging my shoulders, I cried: 
 
 " Milord Marechal, I accept the chance. I will 
 try to cheat ill-fortune." 
 
 '' Bravo ! " cried the Duke. *' I wish you success." 
 
 I bowed. 
 
 " Have you, Milord Marechal, any further directions 
 to give me as to my proceedings? " 
 
 " None," he replied, ** except that you be circum- 
 
^ A SWORDSMAN 
 
 spect. And I need hardly say that your life depends 
 on your success." Again his snuff-box came into 
 requisition. "When do you leave camp? '* 
 
 ** As soon as may be," I replied. *' And I may 
 bring a friend with me. A lieutenant of Dillon's." 
 
 "Yes, yes," he replied. "Such arrangements as 
 you wish to make I will have carried out." He rose 
 as if to signify that the interview was at an end. 
 " I trust, Monsieur de Gras, you will not have to face 
 the firing platoon." 
 
 " The dice may turn to me. Milord Mar^chal," I 
 replied, and saluting turned on my heel. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 AMONGST THE MOUNTAINS — LE COQ D0R6 
 
 The evening was well advanced as we picked our way 
 through the wild pass up which we had been advanc- 
 ing for hours past. Up above us we could catch 
 glimpses now and again of the pointed roofs of the 
 little bourg where our journey would end, perhaps 
 for ever. In the clear mountain air they stood out 
 distinctly before us, looking, up there embosomed 
 within the encircling peaks, strangely aloof and re- 
 moved from the mundane things we had left behind. 
 In the background, towering up over the clustering 
 roofs, a huge battlemented pile reared itself aloft 
 towards the clouds. From one of its flanking towers 
 a flag fluttered bravely. I could not make out the 
 device it bore. Turning to O Briain, who in his 
 character of serving man rode with me, and who was 
 muttering between his teeth at the roughness of the 
 way, I remarked : 
 
 '' The man we seek lives yonder." 
 
 ** And it looks strong and powerful to hold him," 
 replied O Briain. " Though the road to it is so long 
 and rugged, the village above looks pretty and peace- 
 ful enough. One would hardly think it harboured 
 such a nest of hornets." 
 
 ''No," I replied, "and one to look at me would 
 hardly imagine that I was a man under sentence of 
 death. Things are seldom what they seem." 
 
 "Let us not talk of death, only success," cried 
 Muiris. "But hark I Someone comes this way." 
 
 97 G 
 
98 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 Out of the pine forest which bordered our way, a 
 man emerged into view. Across his right shoulder 
 was slung a well-filled game bag. He was tall and 
 loosely built, with black hair and beard. As he 
 advanced he gave us good even, and I fell to wonder- 
 ing how many times the long musket thrown across 
 his left shoulder had been levelled at the breasts of 
 our soldiers, how many brave fellows had fallen 
 before its spitting lead. However, I replied civilly 
 to his greeting, and inquired if it was likely that we 
 would find lodgings in the village. 
 
 '' *Tis seldom we have strangers in our village," 
 he replied, looking at us curiously, "but you may 
 find what you seek at Le Coq Dore. It lies at the 
 far end of the village." 
 
 I thanked him, and asked, pointing to the frowning 
 castle : 
 
 *' Yonder is the chateau of the Sieur de la Gen^vre, 
 is it not? " 
 
 I had hardly asked the question when I regretted it. 
 I thought I noticed a knitting of the black brows, but 
 he replied readily enough : 
 
 " Yes, our seigneur lives up there. But he is 
 seldom to be seen. You know him, monsieur? " 
 
 My indiscretion had made me wary. I said with 
 an air of indift'erence : 
 
 " No, I do not know him. But I have heard men 
 speak of him in Turin, and of the good sport which 
 one may find here ! 'Tis hardly likely his chateau 
 would be a very popular visiting place. I think few 
 would venture to climb up there." 
 
 " Peste, no ! " cried the mountaineer. " His 
 friends find the way too rugged, so they seldom 
 come. His enemies find it too dangerous, for our 
 seigneur's men are brave, and they seldom miss. 
 Eh ! how this Duke Vendome must hate him ! No 
 convoy of his can go through these passes without 
 feeling his power. Parbleu ! Our seigneur is a 
 bitter enemy to these French." 
 
 As I listened to the boasting of this mountaineer, I 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 99 
 
 felt how difficult was the task I had undertaken. 
 What if this fellow should suspect us? But how 
 could he ? The reference to Turin would lull 
 suspicion. And it was hardly likely that the Sieur 
 had spies in our camp. And even if he had what 
 likelihood was there of his finding out about our 
 mission. Courage! Courage, Piaras Gras ! Put 
 away your foolishness. It will hardly mean success, 
 and your life hanging in the balance. 
 
 Nodding to the mountaineer, and again thanking 
 him for his information, we moved on. 'Twas clear 
 now how delicately we would be placed in this out-of- 
 the-world place, how circumspectly we would have 
 to move. We would be objects of doubt and distrust 
 in the little hamlet, especially if we lengthened our 
 stay. And however long the work required, we must 
 remain on. 
 
 The path had become easier, and putting spurs to 
 our horses we cantered bravely up the street of the 
 little bourg, and drew rein before a dilapidated- 
 looking house marked out from the rest by a large 
 gilt weathercock which rose up over its pointed gable. 
 Dismounting I threw the rein to Muiris, and strode 
 inside. 
 
 "Landlord," I cried to the rather hang-dog 
 looking man who came to meet me, *' I require 
 lodgings for myself and my serving man for some 
 time." 
 
 *' My place is but small," he replied. " I seldom 
 have visitors. Does monsieur remain long?" 
 
 ** It may be a week, a month, a year," I said care- 
 lessly. '' But what matters it whether my stay be 
 long or short, an' I pay you well for your trouble." 
 
 I pushed a well-filled purse beneath his nose, and 
 watched his small, reddish eyes glitter with cupidity 
 as he heard the merry chink of the gold pieces. Oh, 
 a well-lined purse is a fine companion on the road. 
 'Tis wonderful how smooth it makes it. 
 
 '* As I remarked, milord," and the good fellow was 
 now all smiles, "we seldom have visitors, and my 
 
100 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 poor little inn is not what I would wish it to be. But 
 if monseigneur would be willing to put up with the 
 poor accommodation " ^^ 
 
 '' Say no more, say no more, good landlord, 
 I cried jovially. " One who travels so much as I do 
 will not be hard to please." 
 
 ''Have you ridden far to-day, monseigneur?" 
 asked the landlord, looking down at my mud-splashed 
 boots. 
 
 *' I have been in the saddle since early morning," 
 I replied. " I have ridden from Turin in the plains 
 below." 
 
 I spoke loudly, as much for the benefit of several 
 fellows who sipped their wine while they listened to 
 our conversation, as for the landlord's. 
 
 *' The roads are in a devilish condition. And now, 
 good landlord, will you set the table with the best 
 your inn affords. Your mountain air has made me 
 as hungry as a hawk. . . . Jean," I cried, going to 
 the door and addressing Muiris, "put up these 
 horses, and be quick about it." 
 
 Muiris, his face solemn and expressionless, touched 
 his hat, and turned away with the horses. I could 
 hardly forbear laughing, he looked so staid, and so 
 like a gentleman's gentleman. But that would never 
 do. Sharp eyes were about, and I must play my 
 part. I turned back into the inn. The loungers 
 were regarding me curiously, and calling the land- 
 lord, I threw him a gold piece, and ordered him to fill 
 up their tankards. Then, as befitted a gentleman 
 who despised such ignoble company, I mounted the 
 stairs after the little grisette called by the landlord, 
 in order to remove the stains left by my journey in 
 the privacy of my room. 
 
 After a' while the landlord came to tell me that 
 dinner was served. In the room where the table was 
 spread I found Muiris waiting for me. 
 
 *' Ah, Muiris," I exclaimed, "why are you not 
 seated? " 
 
 " Hush ! " he admonished, looking after the land- 
 
OF THE BRIGADE loi 
 
 lord's retreating form. " May;'<he, seWin^'-'tii^Lh' eat 
 with his lord? " 
 
 '' Ah, you are right," I said. *' Then the serving 
 man must serve his lord." 
 
 We both laughed softly. I think the one was 
 endeavouring to cheer the other, to keep his mind 
 from dwelling too much on the dangers which 
 surrounded. 
 
 So I sat dining in solitary state with Muiris 
 dancing attendance, albeit he was a little clumsy. 
 The landlord came in and hovered round as if he 
 wished to say something. In order to get rid of the 
 fellow, I demanded : 
 
 "How now, good landlord? You wish to speak 
 to me." 
 
 " Milord," he stammered, *' as I told you my place 
 is small " and he stopped. 
 
 *' Proceed," I cried impatiently. 
 
 "Your room," he got out, "your servant must 
 occupy it also." 
 
 •■ " Parbleu ! " I ejaculated, scowling most fero- 
 ciously at Muiris. And then I said resignedly, " Ah, 
 this is the difficulty of having a serving man. But I 
 must be satisfied. Landlord, see that his bed is 
 drawn away as far as possible from mine." 
 
 The landlord went away bowing most profoundly. 
 I had not hoped for this fortunate turn of affairs. 
 Now Muiris and I could be together without causing 
 too much comment, for it might have looked strange 
 if I, a gentleman of quality, were to occupy the same 
 apartment with my plebeian servant. Fortune was 
 beginning to smile, and I said to Muiris : 
 
 " This is a difficulty got over. I begin to think we 
 are going to succeed. Here, Muiris, a goblet to our 
 success." 
 
 And taking care that no watchful eyes were about, 
 we quaffed the flowing bumpers of rich red wine to the 
 bright future. When Muiris had duly dined after 
 his master, as a good servant should, he lighted the 
 candles, and preceded that master to bed. Having 
 
102 • • A SWORDSMAN 
 
 30un^2d -the v/alls: ail round for places where a spy 
 might hsten, we discussed our plans and retired, he, 
 the plebeian, to his bed well screened from the eyes 
 of myself, his lordly master. And I cannot imagine 
 that had the Sieur de la Gen^vre seen us that night in 
 the chamber of Le Coq Dore, sleeping so peacefully, 
 he would have thought that the worthy Fabien de 
 Berac and his serving man were two Irishmen plot- 
 ting against his liberty, and for his removal from his 
 mountain stronghold. 
 
 We were up betimes, and having breakfasted heartily 
 set off on foot with guns thrown across our shoulders. 
 W"e had decided to keep away from the village as 
 much as possible, as we reasoned that our constant 
 presence therein might make the inhabitants inquisi- 
 tive. And suspicion must be lulled at all costs. If 
 it should rest on us it would be fatal to our enter- 
 prise, and probably our lives. i\way in the moun- 
 tain passes we might stumble across information 
 which would be useful to us. As a gentleman en- 
 gaged in the pastime of hunting I would be less open 
 to suspicion than in any other way. It appeared 
 natural in these mountains which swarmed w4th 
 game. Perhaps we might even have the good for- 
 tune to meet with the Sieur himself. But might he 
 not object to strangers hunting amongst these moun- 
 tains where he ruled? It was possible, but I must 
 run the risk. I could think of no better plan. I 
 must face risks, else it were better to return to the 
 Duke, own myself beaten, and let the crashing 
 muskets of the platoon end my story. But that was 
 never Piaras Gras's way. No, I would go on. x-lnd 
 when I spoke to Muiris of my plan he approved of it, 
 and said it was the only way v^'e could work for the 
 present. 
 
 " Of course it has its risks," I remarked. 
 
 " Every plan has risks," he retorted. "It is 
 certain we cannot remain all day long in this inn 
 doing nothing." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 103 
 
 All day we hunted, and at evening, tired out by 
 oujr toilsome work, returned to the village. Game we 
 had enough of, but as regards the human game we 
 pursued we had learned nothing. Some peasants, 
 wild-looking fellows who went well armed, had 
 passed us. They looked at us curiously, as if they 
 had never seen our like before. But silently they had 
 passed on, and I had refrained from holding conver- 
 sation with them. They might have told me some- 
 thing, but better to wait. Everything comes to him 
 who waits. 
 
 So we continued for a couple of weeks. I was 
 growing tired and dissatisfied with this continual 
 hunting, and yet no more feasible plan presented 
 itself, unless indeed we went boldly to the Sieur's 
 chateau and demanded admittance on some pretext 
 or other. I knew that the villagers were getting 
 curious about our prolonged stay. They could not 
 understand what interest would detain a gentleman 
 in that remote village for so long, where men from 
 the outside world so seldom came. Their eyes held 
 a menace which foreboded little good to us. But I 
 went back and forwards regardless of the black, 
 scowling looks cast at us covertly. And Muiris fol- 
 lowed at my heels. 
 
 Then one day a strange thing happened. We had 
 tracked a chamois along a rugged path which I could 
 see would lead us close to the Sieur's casde. As we 
 hurried forward hot on the chase a loud cry of warn- 
 ing rang in our ears, and looking up to a rock over- 
 hanging the path we found ourselves covered by the 
 long barrel of a musket held in the hands of a fellow 
 who warned us not to advance farther. But we paid 
 no heed to his warning till a bullet sang over our 
 heads. 
 
 '' Halt ! " shouted the fellow. " The seigneur does 
 not like strangers to come too close to his chateau." 
 
 " And why, good fellow? " I demanded. 
 
 " 'Tis not for me to say," replied the man. " But 
 on this mountain our seigneur rules without question. 
 
104 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 As our enemies beyond," and he pointed in the 
 direction of Ivrea, "know right well, he does not 
 welcome strangers here or in his village." 
 
 " He rules life and death," I sneered. 
 
 " Aye," retorted the otherj " none dare dispute his 
 right." 
 
 " Undisputed monarch of the mountain," I sneered 
 again. " Foe of Vendome, friend of Savoy." 
 
 But O Briain whispered in my ear : 
 
 " For Heaven's sake come away. You may ruin 
 all." 
 
 The whisper recalled me to myself, and turning on 
 my heel I followed Muiris soberly enough. Had I 
 spoiled all by allowing the unfortunate reference to 
 the Duke to escape me? As we went the mocking 
 laughter of the moutaineer rang in our ears, and his 
 cry: 
 
 " Aye, foe of Vendome I " 
 
 I bit my lip with vexation. What should I have 
 known of Vendome or Savoy? I fear I will have to 
 curb my temper and guard my tongue more care- 
 fully before I can hope to succeed at work such as 
 this. 
 
 " 'Tis as I feared, Muiris," I said, when we had 
 gone some distance. " We are being watched." 
 
 *' Aye," he replied, " 'tis evident enough. I do 
 not doubt we are on the eve of a turn in the affair, be 
 it for good or ill. And however it may turn, any- 
 thing would be better than this groping in the dark." 
 
 He was right. The affair did take a turn, and a 
 rather unexpected one. When we returned to the inn 
 that evening we found a note awaiting us. It was 
 addressed to M. Fabien de Berac. It was short and 
 ran as follows : 
 
 "To Monsieur de Berac the Sieur de la Gen^vre 
 sends greeting. He does not think that strangers find 
 his mountain passes very good for hunting. They are 
 particularly dangerous, especially in the vicinity of his 
 chateau. May he express the hope that, having now 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 105 
 
 satisfied his desire for sport, monsieur will have a 
 pleasant journey back to Turin." 
 
 **SoI" I ejaculated, when I had finished reading, 
 ** the Sieur very politely tells us to begone," and I 
 handed the letter to Muiris. 
 
 *' Very politely worded indeed I " cried he. ** One 
 would hardly expect such polish from this mountain 
 lordling. Of course you will go." 
 
 *' M'anam," I cried, starting round angrily. But I 
 saw the smile on his face and had to laugh myself. 
 
 " Is it likely?" I asked him. 
 
 ** No, I think not. But the turn of the game has 
 come." 
 
 ** Aye, our blindfold groping is over. I wonder 
 what his next move will be ? " 
 
 We were soon to know. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE SIEUR STRIKES 
 
 We remained on at Le Coq Dore. Of the Sieur's 
 letter I had taken no more notice than if I had never 
 received it. Thus four days went by. During that 
 time we heard nothing from the man we now knew 
 was our enemy. We made no change in our conduct, 
 further than to keep our firearms well primed, our 
 swords ready in their scabbards. But in the conduct 
 of the aubergiste, Barnabe, we noticed a significant 
 change. Had we not been on the watch for every 
 little sign we might have set it down to mere 
 gaucherie. But now everything had a meaning, and 
 when we saw that the good Barnabe was getting lax 
 and careless in his attendance on us we concluded 
 that the Sieur v/as at work. It was now a meal kept 
 late, again meat burned to a cinder, wine served up 
 which tasted like vinegar. But we held on grimly, 
 laughing to ourselves as we watched the efforts of our 
 host to compel us to go, through the worrying of our 
 stomachs. 
 
 And then he began to grow very unsteady on his 
 legs. One evening it was a flagon of his villainous 
 wine splashed into my face. A dish of venison 
 scattered over the dirty floor through a stumble of 
 his. But when it happened that the worthy fellow 
 shot into my arms with a tureen of soup, covering 
 my lace cravat and velvet coat with a horrible coating 
 of grease, I confess I lost my temper, and administered 
 such a succession of heavy blows about his plump 
 cheeks that he roared for mercy. Accidents ! Ah 
 
 1 06 
 
A SWORDSMAN 107 
 
 yes, they may have been, but my loss of temper was 
 also an accident. After that he became surly and 
 independent, where before he had been talkative and 
 obsequious. He hardly disguised his wish that we 
 should go, and commenced to hint it broadly enough. 
 
 " Monsieur de Berac," he inquired, as I was break- 
 fasting on the fourth morning after the letter of the 
 Sieur had come, "it is probable that you will soon 
 be going away. You have no doubt seen enough of 
 our mountains." 
 
 ** 'Tis not my intention," I said. "There are 
 many interesting things yet to be seen, and my hunt- 
 ing has not lost its charm. I will not go yet a while." 
 
 " Few strangers make such a long stay," he 
 remarked, as if to himself. 
 
 " Ah, but they may not be interested," I replied. 
 " Now the chateau beyond would well repay 
 inspection." 
 
 As I spoke I was watching him closely. A look 
 flashed from his eyes which told me that he knew 
 more than he pretended. 
 
 " Milord," he cried, " the chateau is not for inspec- 
 tion. The times are too dangerous. The Sieur has 
 hanged a man ere now for venturing too close. Ah, 
 milord, you little know what dangers lurk amongst 
 our mountains. Accidents have happened many 
 times." 
 
 "Aye, 'tis likely," I remarked grimly. "But, 
 good landlord, you appear right anxious to get rid of 
 me. Come, if it is a question of money " 
 
 " No, no," he interrupted. " But I would not like 
 
 accidents to happen. The Sieur " He pulled 
 
 himself up suddenly. 
 
 "Ah, this mysterious Sieur," I remarked. 
 " Surely he has no connection with accidents." 
 
 But I spoke to the landlord's back. He had said 
 too much, evidently. 
 
 " Muiris," I whispered, "our good landlord is 
 trying to frighten us. Look well to your arms. We 
 may need them soon." 
 
io8 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 The day passed without any untoward incident, and 
 as the shades of night were closing in, we turned 
 in at the door of Le Coq. I had instructed the land- 
 lord that we would be back at dusk, and dinner must 
 be in readiness for me. When we entered we found 
 that the inn was filled with a noisy rabble of well- 
 armed fellows. I judged them to be of the Sieur's 
 following, and plainly enough they w^ere men who 
 would stop at nothing, rascals who would do their 
 master's bidding without any troublesome scruples. 
 I paid them little attention, but pushed my way into 
 the little room where we dined, followed by Muiris. 
 They troubled not at all about making way for us. 
 As I shouldered my w^ay through I heard many 
 covert sneers and allusions to myself. 
 
 *' Ah, here come the gueux who hunts amongst 
 our mountains," sneered one fellow, bolder than the 
 rest. *' Parbleu, comrades, is he not a coxcomb? " 
 
 His companions guffawed loudly at their fellow's 
 witticism, but I paid no heed. I kept myself well 
 in check, though my hand played with my sword hilt. 
 In the dining-room no preparations had been made 
 for us. The table was innocent of cloth or decor- 
 ations. This scum of a landlord had then decided to 
 starve us out. Dar fiadh, we would soon see. 
 
 "Landlord I landlord!" I shouted, "come here!" 
 
 It was a long time before he came, and then it was 
 with an insolent air which did not tend to cool my 
 sadly ruffled temper. 
 
 " How comes this? " I demanded, pointing to the 
 table. 
 
 He stared at it as if he had never seen it 
 before. 
 
 " Answer me," I cried. "Did you not know the 
 arrangement, or have you suddenly gone dumb? " 
 
 " Monsieur," he said sullenly at last, and his voice 
 was thick as if he had indulged rather freely in his 
 wine, " you cannot dine here to-night." 
 
 " And why not? " I demanded. 
 
 " I have received my orders," he replied, sulkily. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 109 
 
 *' I have way no longer for strangers who, for aught 
 I know, may be spies in disguise." 
 
 "A pretty landlord," I cried. "The mysterious 
 Sieur has spoken." 
 
 He made no reply, but backed towards the door. 
 However, I had no intention of letting him go so 
 softly. My temper was beginning to rise, and the 
 jeers of the Sieur's riff-raff, who had crowded round 
 the door which the landlord had left open hardly 
 served to calm me. 
 
 **The coxcomb will get no dinner. Let him 
 come to the chateau. The Sieur will give him one," 
 they laughed. 
 
 "Landlord," I cried, *' I will go from this inn 
 when it is my wish to do so. Have dinner served at 
 once." 
 
 He paid no more attention to me than if I had 
 been some mere routier, but continued his backward 
 progress. 
 
 "Hal you require a lesson," I cried, leaping 
 towards him. 
 
 But he caught up a heavy tankard from a table, 
 and hurled it at my head. It shivered itself into 
 fragments against the wall behind. As if it were 
 a signal the other rascals crushed their way into the 
 room with loud shouts. 
 
 "Out with the coxcomb! Away with the spy! 
 Have at you, miserable ! " 
 
 " Seachain ! Seachain, a Phiarais I " shouted Muiris, 
 who had been silently watching the turn of affairs, 
 springing to my side, his sword flashing. We fell 
 back behind the table which stood in the centre of 
 the room, and formed a slight barrier between us and 
 the press of foes. 
 
 They came at us with a rush, but our swift thrusts 
 sent two brawny ruffians howling back. But brave 
 in their superior numbers the others pressed on, 
 hoping to wear us down with their overwhelming 
 attack. And we were hard pressed. Furiously they 
 cut and thrust at us from all sides. So swift the 
 
no A SWORDSMAN 
 
 blows came they seemed to be delivered by one 
 mighty weapon. My masters, it is no easy thing 
 for two to receive the attacks of a dozen, no matter 
 how poor in skill that dozen may be. But somehow 
 or other we managed to keep them in play. The 
 way in which they were crowded together helped us, 
 in that they could not use their weapons with all the 
 freedom necessary. The apartment grew full of the 
 sounds of fierce conflict. Shouts, curses, groans 
 mingled with the clashing of steel and the crashing 
 of glass, punctuated here and there by an odd shot. 
 Above our heads the wild shrieks of the landlord's 
 wife and servants calling for help added to the tumult. 
 
 And then suddenly a plan which would further 
 limit their freedom of swordplay flashed into my 
 mind. Why not use the table as a movable barri- 
 cade? They, afraid to pass the ends of it guarded 
 by our flashing blades, crushed back to the wall, 
 would find their numbers a hindrance. 
 
 Shouting a warning to Muiris, I pushed the heavy 
 table forward. My movement was successful. Now 
 indeed their numbers became as dangerous to one 
 another as to us. Their attack became more con- 
 fused, and dearly they paid for that confusion. 
 Already three or four of them had retired sorely 
 wounded, and one still form lay on the floor. 
 
 Suddenly the men in front of us drew back as if 
 moved by some strange impulse. Surprised by the 
 unaccountable movement we hung back a little, still 
 on guard, ready. And then I heard a slight noise 
 behind. That lull, which our enemies in their 
 foolishness had brought about, saved us. That noise 
 would have passed unnoticed amidst the din of the 
 struggle. Casting a swift glance backward I was 
 startled to see a portiere in our rear swing outwards, 
 as if someone stood behind it. Plainly enough a 
 door — of which I had not suspected the existence — 
 had been opened. We were taken in rear. 
 
 ''Outflanked!" I yelled. ''Guard the front, 
 Muiris." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE iii 
 
 And I spun round on my heel to meet the new 
 attack. It was only time. The portiere was thrown 
 back, and two men sprang into view. It flashed 
 across my mind that I had seen one of them before. 
 Ah, I had it! The fellow who had spoken to us on 
 the path on the first evening of our coming. But 
 one of them stumbled in his mad charge towards me, 
 and my sword passing through his shoulder gave 
 him a wound it would take many a day to mend. 
 Whether it was that my other opponent scorned the 
 use of his sword, or, what was more likely, that he 
 was not very skilled in its use, I know not. What- 
 ever the cause he had not drawn it, but gripped a 
 clubbed musket in his two brawny hands. M'anam 
 istigh ! that black-browed mountaineer was a brave 
 fellow. Whirling his musket round his head like a 
 flail he aimed a blow at me. My sudden leap aside 
 saved me, but the musket-butt crashing against my 
 sword snapped it off close to the hilt. Flinging it 
 away, I sprang at my foe as he staggered forward 
 beneath the impetus of his blow. We grappled with 
 each other, fiercely struggling, for a few seconds; 
 then with a sudden twist — one which I had learned 
 years before in our Kerry gleanns — I tossed him on 
 his back, and his head coming into violent contact 
 with the floor, he lay as one dead. 
 
 Plucking his sword from out its scabbard, I 
 returned to the assistance of Muiris. From the other 
 flanker, who lay moaning pitifully, we need fear 
 nothing. But the fight was nearly over. Dis- 
 heartened by the failure of the rear attack, our 
 assailants turned and fled out through the open door, 
 and away. We had won. Panting and weary after 
 our deadly strife, we remained in possession of the inn. 
 
 Around us was only wreck and ruin. The 
 spectacle presented by the room bore witness to 
 the passions which had been let loose. Broken 
 furniture was strewn here and there. Glass and 
 earthenware reduced to atoms by pistol ball or sword 
 cut littered the floor. Splashes of blood stained floor 
 
112 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 and walls. After gazing round for a few minutes I. 
 turned to Muiris. 
 
 " The Sieur has shown his hand at last," I said. 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "but this defeat will only 
 make him show it further." 
 
 " Time will tell," I said. '' But we can only wait. 
 Where is that rascal of a landlord? A goblet of 
 wine would not be amiss. Our host has paid dearly 
 for this night's work." 
 
 " Aye, more dearly than he thought of. But that 
 wine. My throat is as dry as a limekiln. Ah, here 
 comes our friend." 
 
 The good Barnab6 looked pale, and I noticed that 
 he wore a blood-stained bandage tied round his 
 head. He looked at us with a dogged, scowling 
 face, and I did not blame him for it. Had not his 
 plan miscarried we would by this time have been 
 fleeing through the mountain passes with the Sieur's 
 rabble at our heels, or else be past the power of 
 using our limbs in flight. After the very different 
 upturn of the affair I did not expect he would regard 
 us with the most kindly feelings. 
 
 "Ah, good Barnab^ ! " I cried. " You have been 
 fighting. I trust your wound is not deep? " 
 
 He growled out a curse. 
 
 " Eh bien, it is the fortune of war," I remarked. 
 " To-night we are victors; to-morrow, who knows? " 
 
 "Aye, who knows ?" he growled. "The Sieur 
 is a dangerous man to cross." 
 
 " M'anam! That mysterious personage Is becom- 
 ing quite a nightmare," I said. " Let us forget him 
 for a while. Good Barnab^, after our strenuous 
 labour we must have some wine. Muiris, will you 
 accompany our host? And mine host, let it not be 
 that vinegar you have placed before us since M. le 
 Sieur thought he would look after our welfare." 
 
 He looked at me, his reddish eyes glittering, but 
 said nothing. Accompanied by Muiris he went 
 away, and in a few minutes returned bearing several 
 bottles. Setting them down he was turning away, 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 113 
 
 but I called him back, and filling up a goblet with 
 the rich red beverage, handed it to him. 
 
 ** A toast!" I cried. "May we be always as 
 good friends as we are at present." 
 
 I thought he would have thrown the wine into my 
 face, but he tossed it off at one fierce gulp. Ah, that 
 wine! It was nectar fit for the immortal gods. It 
 went coursing through my veins like fire, and made 
 me a new man. 
 
 ** Now," I said to the landlord, " this room looks 
 very unlike the guest-room of the respectable Coq 
 Dor6. If some traveller should happen in you would 
 be disgraced. A little clearing up will do no harm, 
 and will enhance considerably the value of that 
 long-delayed dinner which you will set before us." 
 
 I wished to keep good Barnab6 within view as 
 much as possible. We did not want him to work 
 any more mischief. Muiris and I assisted him., and 
 at the end of an hour we had brought some order 
 out of the chaos. Very little sign of the struggle 
 remained. The landlord had dragged away the 
 badly damaged furniture, and then we carried away 
 the body of the unfortunate fellow who had fallen in 
 the fray to an outhouse. The black-browed wrestler 
 who had tried to smash my skull with his musket- 
 butt we tended last of all. He still lay where he had 
 fallen. The blow which had rendered him uncon- 
 scious had been a heavy one, but his skull was thick, 
 and after a little we roused him up from his stupor, 
 forcing copious draughts of wine down his throat. 
 We sent him away then. The volubility of his 
 cursing showed that he was little the worse of his 
 heavy fall. 
 
 *' And now, good landlord,*' I cried, ** dinner, 
 dinner, dinner! " 
 
 We sat down at last. However, I was cautious, 
 and required Barnabe to taste each dish he set before 
 us. But he had not tampered with them. He was 
 a good fellow enough, though he had tried such 
 scurvy tricks. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 AN UNLOOKED-FOR FRIEND 
 
 Now that we had a little time to think I saw the 
 gravity of our situation. The Sieur would not be 
 satisfied with the failure of his attempt to drive us 
 away. Of that I was certain. We had won for the 
 present, but when our foe struck again he would 
 take care that he would not fail. I feared we would 
 go down before him, but better die fighting than 
 return empty-handed. When would the attack 
 come? I hardly imagined he would strike for the 
 present. But I felt we must change our quarters on 
 the morrow. Till then we must remain on at the 
 inn. There was nothing else to be done, for we had 
 no other refuge to turn to. Of course we could have 
 saddled our horses, and fled away. But that could 
 not be. Black night had long fallen, and how could 
 we find our way through the passes? Even though 
 it had not been so, I would not have gone. What I 
 Fly before this rabble ; run at the first whiff of 
 danger; go to the Duke to hear his sneering laughter ! 
 No ; whatever came I would follow this thing to the 
 end. Men might call Piaras Gras unfortunate ; they 
 would never name him coward. 
 
 A voice broke in on my reflections. Some traveller 
 had entered the inn. As I heard the sweet, girlish 
 voice give greeting to the landlord, who had hurried 
 out, I started. Looking towards O Briain I saw that 
 he also had turned his head sharply. 
 
 '' Muiris," I said, '' we are to have a companion, 
 it seems. That voice sounds familiar." 
 
A SWORDSMAN 115 
 
 "I'd wager a year's pay against a louis that it 
 is the voice of Mademoiselle Aimee Neffer," said 
 O Briain. 
 
 •'We'll soon know," I said. "Our good 
 Barnab^ is ushering her in here." 
 
 The door was thrown open, and a girl came in. 
 A glance into the beautiful face, shaded by a jaunty 
 little beaver with trailing white plumes, showed rne 
 that we had been correct in our surmises. The girl 
 had ridden to the inn. So much was certain, for 
 she was dressed in a most becoming riding habit, 
 and in her hand held a gold-headed riding whip. 
 She was followed by the landlord, who profusely 
 apologised for the smallness and poorness of his inn. 
 He regretted that he had not some more fitting apart- 
 ment to which he might conduct her ladyship, but 
 this was his best room, where his guests had their 
 meals spread. If she, however, objected to the 
 presence of two noble gentlemen who honoured his 
 inn 
 
 She broke in on his garrulity. 
 
 "Enough, good landlord," she said. "Your 
 guest-room will be fitting for me. My stay will be 
 only short. To-morrow I ride to the chateau of the 
 Sieur de la Gen^vre. Set a table here with the best 
 your inn can afford. I am tired, and would retire as 
 soon as possible. You will also see that my serving 
 men are cared for." 
 
 He bent almost double, and assured her that he 
 would carry out her commands. I sprang up, and, 
 bowing to her, inquired if she would honour our 
 poor meal with her presence. 
 
 " We have but commenced," I said. " Do not 
 refuse to honour us by your acceptance, made- 
 moiselle." 
 
 She looked at me, drawing herself up haughtily 
 the while. She seemed as if she were about to reject 
 my offer indignantlv. But I went on : 
 
 " Mademoiselle Neffer, do you not remember? " 
 
 She looked closer, and uttered a litde cry of delight. 
 
ii6 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 "Ciel! Monsieur de Gras I Who would have 
 expected to meet you here? " 
 
 " Our paths have crossed again, fair made- 
 moiselle," I said. "The gods have pitied 
 us." 
 
 She curtsied prettily, and gave me her hand. 
 Then turning to the landlord who had been regarding 
 us silently, she said: 
 
 " I will dine with these gentlemen. They are 
 my friends. See that my sleeping apartment is 
 prepared." 
 
 Barnab^ set a place for her, and then went away. 
 Our unlooked-for guest made a fair, pleasant picture 
 sitting there in that room, which had so lately been 
 the scene of such a fierce fight. Looking at her 
 presiding with such grace, exchanging light, incon- 
 sequent banter with ^luiris, listening to her merry, 
 ringing laugh, it almost seemed to me as if the events 
 of the evening had only been some hideous night- 
 mare ; that we had been transported to some fairy 
 palace where fiery human passions had no place. 
 One could hardly connect that gracious presence with 
 the scene of turmoil and bloodshed of a couple of 
 hours before. Ah, what a curious medley of light 
 and shade, a strange, sad mixture of joy and 
 sorrow, strife and peace, life is I I had grown silent 
 and abstracted as these thoughts came trooping in 
 on me. 
 
 Mademoiselle Aim^e noticed my abstraction, for 
 she remarked playfully : 
 
 " Monsieur de Gras, one would think that you 
 were posing as a public penitent, you look so solemn 
 and sad I 'Tis hardly flattering to your guest. But 
 how comes Tt that you are here ? This place is hardly 
 one where one would expect to meet French officers. 
 The Sieur de la Gen^vre is not a friend of your 
 people." 
 
 " Fate, fair mademoiselle," I replied, " has sent 
 us hither. Too well we know how the Sieur de la 
 Gen^vre loves us. But, mademoiselle, let us speak 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 117 
 
 of something else. The unfortunate circumstance 
 which has driven us here is our secret. But since 
 that circumstance has thrown us together again, even 
 if it be for only a few brief hours, I can hardly think 
 it unfortunate. But the Sieur de la Gen^vre is your 
 friend. We will speak of something else, an' it be 
 your pleasure." 
 
 " Nay, nay," she broke out energetically. *' Mon- 
 sieur de la Gen^vre is not my friend; say rather my 
 enemy. One whom I detest, but whom the exigen- 
 cies of policy demand that my father should regard 
 as an ally. But, Monsieur de Gras, what can have 
 sent you to this place? Pardon me if I appear 
 insistent, but the strangeness of meeting you here, 
 so far from your camp — here where your life is not 
 worth a moment's purchase did the people know you 
 for what you are — surprises me, makes me appre- 
 hensive. Mon Dieul if they only knew!" She 
 threw an apprehensive glance round as if she thought 
 the very walls would disgorge enemies. 
 
 I made no answer. I could not tell her the true 
 position of affairs. 'Twould only make her unhappy, 
 and would not serve us. 
 
 '• Ah, monsieur! are we not friends? " she asked. 
 " Have you not saved me in the day of my distress? 
 Amongst these mountains you are in danger. Why 
 do you remain? " 
 
 " 'Tis necessary that we remain," I replied. 
 ** But, mademoiselle, I beg of you, do not inquire 
 further. You are but a girl." 
 
 " I am the daughter of Henri Neffer," she replied 
 proudly. " Mon ami, I know that something strange 
 has happened. As I rode through the village I saw 
 that it was in a ferment. Excited groups stood round 
 several wounded men, and when one of my men 
 inquired he was told some strange story about French 
 spies, and a fight which had taken place at Le Coq 
 Dor^. . . . Mon Dieu ! Now I know what the land- 
 lord's bandaged head means, what yonder splintered 
 table tells of. Messieurs, your lives are in danger. 
 
ii8 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 Will you not tell me? I, a mountaineer, may be able 
 to help you." 
 
 '' Mademoiselle," I cried, '' you know not what 
 you ask. You know not what our mission is. We 
 are French officers. We may be even engaged on 
 work which you would detest. What! Allow you 
 to associate yourself with our work, surrounded as 
 it is with danger. No, mademoiselle; we must face 
 this danger alone." 
 
 " Did you count the cost the other night when 
 you aided me?" she asked, "when you exposed 
 yourselves to the enmity of a powerful man ? How 
 do I know what punishment you may have under- 
 gone for your generosity to me — a stranger? Ah, 
 monsieur " — and she turned to me — " do not refuse 
 my poor aid in your necessity ! For that that necessity 
 is pressing I am certain. Else why the excitement in 
 the village? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said, " there is danger for us 
 here, I will admit it, but it is not greater than that 
 which awaits me at the camp. To return there would 
 be simply exchanging a remote danger for a pressing 
 one. No, mademoiselle, you may not aid us." 
 
 ''Monsieur," she cried, tears in her eyes, "you 
 are cruel. .You will not allow me to repay the debt 
 I owe you. And something tells me that I am in 
 some way the cause of your present danger. Your 
 aiding me has made the Chevalier your bitter 
 enemy? " 
 
 Her question took me by surprise. I answered 
 quickly : 
 
 " Mademoiselle, the Chevalier is dead." 
 
 "Dead!" she cried. "He fell by your hand. 
 Ah, bon Dieu ! I see it all now." 
 
 A Dhia ! I could have bitten my tongue out for 
 that foolish slip. Here I had revealed the very thing 
 I had wished to keep from her. I could not now 
 keep silent longer. The rest must be told, if for no 
 other reason than to show her that she was entirely 
 blameless in the matter. So I told her all. She 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 119 
 
 listened in silence, and when I had finished, said 
 quietly ; 
 
 "Mon ami, my debt to you is much greater than 
 I had thought it. Through me you are exposed to 
 all this. If you had not aided me you would never 
 have fought with the Chevalier de Frobin ; you 
 would never have been sent on this dangerous quest. 
 I see now why you would not tell me; why you 
 cannot return to your camp at Ivrea to face certain 
 death. Mon ami "—and she looked at me, her soft 
 black eyes wistful and sad — " can you forgive me for 
 having brought you to this, condemned to seek one 
 danger that you may avoid another? " 
 
 For answer I raised her hand to my lips. 
 
 •'Mademoiselle," I cried, ''the thought that I 
 saved you from that villain counts for more to me 
 than all the danger in which I stand. But do not 
 fear. Piaras Gras will cheat misfortune yet." 
 
 " What men you Irish are ! " she cried, smiling at 
 my rather boastful words. 
 
 "You see now," I went on, "why it is that I 
 cannot accept your help. It would expose you to 
 dangers I would have you avoid, and would set you 
 against this friend " 
 
 "No, no!" she cried, interrupting me. "Say 
 rather, ally. For myself, I dislike and fear him. 
 At one time he made overtures to my father for my 
 hand, but he rejected them. Since then he has not 
 again spoken of it, but I fear that he often thinks of 
 it. I would not have ridden here to-day only that 
 my father had no other messenger to send. This 
 new alliance of the Sieur's with our prince — Victor 
 Amadeus — brings my father into touch with him. 
 But, monsieur " — and she laughed — " I begin to 
 grow afraid. What if you were to make me your 
 prisoner? For after all I am as much the enemy of 
 the French as is the Sieur. Even now I may be in 
 negotiation with this enemy to work you harm." 
 
 " Have no fear, mademoiselle," I replied. " Your 
 secrets are safe with me. I am a soldier, not a spy. 
 
120 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 And I am myself a prisoner in this village, at least 
 for the present." 
 
 "And you will not accept my assistance?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Mademoiselle," I said, "it pains me to think 
 that I cannot accept it. But I cannot compromise 
 you in any way. Believe me, I understand how 
 great your offer of aid is, for am I not a French 
 soldier fighting against your father's, your prince's 
 ally? No, you owe a duty much above the claims 
 of friendship to your cause, as I owe it to the nation 
 in whose service I am. All I can expect from you is 
 silence. Even in that there may be treachery to 
 your people." 
 
 "If so I will do that treachery," she replied. 
 "No one shall learn through me of your mission. 
 But you will be careful. Danger is all round you. 
 If you cannot fly from it, guard yourselves against 
 it. . . . And now, my friends, good night. If we 
 do not meet again remember that Aimee Neffer may 
 yet pay her debt." 
 
 As I bowed low over her hand I said : 
 
 " Fair mademoiselle, you may soon get an oppor- 
 tunity of paying it." 
 
 And the landlord, coming in with candles, con- 
 ducted her to her apartment. Ah, what true words 
 we often speak in jest I When I gave utterance to 
 the lightly spoken thought I had little idea that the 
 debt would be paid so soon, or in such fashion. 
 O Briain, who had been keeping a wary eye on the 
 landlord during the latter part of our conversation, 
 so that he might not listen, said to me: 
 
 " Think you it was well, Piaras, to reveal our 
 mission here to Mademoiselle Neffer? Remember 
 she is one of these mountaineers herself." 
 
 " Muiris, a bhuachaill," I cried. " I would 
 entrust that girl with my life. She has promised 
 her silence." 
 
 ** Aye, it may be so," he said, " but for all that 
 she is a Vaudois. And you remember the words she 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 121 
 
 used that night by the cottage of Gaspard: * The 
 Irish are brave men, but our mountaineers owe them 
 little love.' I campaigned against them with de 
 Catinat's army in '95, Piaras, and I know they have 
 not forgotten it. If she should desire to betray us, 
 who could blame her? '* 
 
 " Muiris, you are a miserable doubter," I rallied 
 him. "She may be a Vaudois, but she'll never 
 betray us. Though if she did it could do us little 
 more damage than has been done already. Circum- 
 stances have betrayed us. Monsieur le Sieur is now 
 as much our enemy as if he had received word from 
 the Duke that we were here to work him harm. But 
 whatever be the result of our adventure, I have faith 
 in that girl." 
 
 He looked quizzically at me for a long time. 
 
 " Be careful, Piaras, a mhic," he warned. ** I 
 believe you are already half in love with our winsome 
 little mountain maid. . . . And Mademoiselle Neffer 
 is very beautiful," he added, half to himself. 
 
 " Come, O hound of watching I " I laughed, ** let 
 us to bed. I think Monsieur de la Gen^vre will not 
 make any move against us to-night." 
 
 But even so we looked well to our arms, and 
 arranged that one should keep watch while the other 
 slept. We did not wish to be caught napping. 
 And so the night wore away. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 PRISONERS — DISILLUSION 
 
 How long a time had elapsed I know not, only that 
 the grey dawn was beginning to creep into the room, 
 when I was awakened from my sleep by the crash of 
 a door being forced in. It had been my watch. 
 For some time after I had been awakened by 
 
 Briain I had paced the floor in an endeavour to 
 keep myself awake, but the two or three hours' sleep 
 
 1 had had seemed only to have heightened the 
 fatigue and weariness I felt. Seating myself on a 
 chair beside the bed I filled a pipe, and lighting it, 
 puffed away steadily for some time. But it was no 
 use. .1 have only a vague idea when I dropped off 
 to sleep. I have blamed myself many a time for the 
 laxity I displayed on that occasion. I was a soldier, 
 and should have kept my watch. But there is little 
 use now in wailing. We cannot recall the past, 
 however much we may regret it. Nature on that 
 occasion triumphed over will and training. Hence 
 the disaster. 
 
 With a cry of warning to O Briain I started to my 
 feet. In the grey light of the morning I saw several 
 men rush in through the wrecked door. I snatched 
 up a pistol, but it was too late. A blow sent it flying 
 from my hand, and then I was down, fighting madly, 
 with three or four enemies above me who crushed 
 me to the floor. I struggled furiously, but they wore 
 me down, and in a few minutes had bound me tightly. 
 That lapse had cost me dear. From his bed I could 
 
 122 
 
A SWORDSMAN 123 
 
 hear the deep-throated growls of O Briain, who had 
 been served in similar fashion to myself. 
 
 "Light! Light! Barnabe," shouted a loud, 
 hoarse voice. " I wish to see this coxcomb who has 
 defied me." 
 
 "The Sieur de la Gen^vre," I muttered to myself. 
 " And we are his prisoners, not he ours. We have 
 lost this time." 
 
 The landlord came in carrying several candles. 
 He could not refrain from giving me a kick as I lay 
 stretched on the floor. 
 
 " That for this evening's work," he gritted. 
 
 "Hold! Hold! good Barnab6," cried the Sieur, 
 pulling him backwards. "These are my prisoners. 
 Time enough for that. Do you know anything of 
 them save what you have told me ? " 
 
 " No, seigneur," he replied. " But here is a paper 
 I found in this spy's coat the other day." 
 
 The Sieur snatched it from his hand, and looked 
 it over. I started as I recognised it. It was the 
 letter from the Due de Vendome appointing me to 
 his staff. 
 
 "Ha! A French officer," cried our captor, 
 advancing closer to me. And then I saw a fierce, 
 vindictive-looking face with reddish-rimmed eyes 
 which glittered strangely in the candlelight. Round 
 his face he wore a scraggy, tawny-coloured beard 
 which gave his face a funny look which reminded me 
 of an ape. He was short in stature and very stoutly 
 built. Altogether one would hardly associate the 
 squat, ridiculous figure with the redoubtable Sieur de 
 le Gen^vre. As I looked I gave an involuntary 
 laugh. 
 
 "Ha! monsieur, you laugh," he cried. ** But 
 laugh, enjoy yourself while you have time. Me- 
 thinks it will not be long. Gustave de la Gen^vre 
 has a short way with spies. What do you know of 
 this?" and he flourished the letter in my face. 
 
 I made no reply. What would it avail to affirm or 
 deny my ownership ? 
 
124 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 " What connection has Monsieur de Berac with 
 M. le Lieutenant de Gras? " he inquired. 
 
 " 'Tis amusing to bear two names. It is lucky," 
 I replied blandly, and I must confess that it is not 
 easy to be bland when one is lying on a floor with 
 cords cutting deeply into one's flesh. 
 
 "Ah, monsieur, it may be," he said, falling in 
 with my humour. " But you will not find it quite 
 so lucky to carry letters from M. le Due. For if M. le 
 Lieutenant de Gras is known to the Due, it follows 
 that Monsieur de Berac is also known to him. How 
 does my reasoning please you, Monsieur de Berac? " 
 
 " Parbleu, monsieur!" I cried. "How wonder- 
 ful is your comprehension I What a pity it is that 
 a man of such subtle intellect should lose himself 
 amongst these hills ! Your reasoning has not a 
 flaw." 
 
 "Eh, monsieur," he cried, his face flushing with 
 anger, " you sneer. But why do I bandy words 
 with you. Here, men. The quickest way is the best 
 with spies. Take them out. You will find trees in 
 plenty. " 
 
 Already I had been dragged to my feet by two 
 stalwart fellows, w^hen an unexpected interruption 
 came. The Sieur had strode to the door, but he 
 halted in amazement as a girl stood before him. I 
 was as much amazed as he, for a glance showed me 
 that it was Aimee Neffer. She carried a candle in 
 her hand. It seemed to me that she had not been in 
 bed. She still wore the silken riding habit which 
 she had worn earlier in the evening. Only her 
 luxuriant black tresses were unbound, and hung down 
 far over her shoulders. On her face there was a flush 
 of excitement which made her more beautiful than 
 ever. 
 
 " Parbleu ! " cried the Sieur, starting back. 
 "Mademoiselle Neffer! " 
 
 "The Sieur de la Gen^vre ! " she cried. "Mon- 
 sieur, what good fortune has brought you here? " 
 
 " Rather, fair lady," said he, sweeping off his hat. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 125 
 
 " what kind gods have sent you hither. But," 
 suddenly recollecting himself, *' the prisoners. 
 Mademoiselle, you have arrived at a most inoppor- 
 tune time." 
 
 But the girl had been looking at us, examining us 
 closely by the light of her candle. Suddenly she 
 uttered a cry of dismay, and gripped the Sieur by 
 the arm. He started round with a muttered oath. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," he demanded, as he noticed her 
 looks, " you know these prisoners." 
 
 *' Alas, how well I know them! " she cried. Then 
 with a fierce gesture : " Who would know them 
 better? This wretch here," and she pointed to me, 
 *' is the one who led the soldiers of Due Vendome 
 against my father's stronghold, and burned it down. 
 And this other grey-haired villain," pointing at 
 Muiris, " is one whom I noticed particularly on that 
 day. Oh, how I hate you. . . . Mon Dieu, mon- 
 sieur, how you are avenging us ! " and she turned to 
 our captor, who beamed beneath her words of 
 approval. 
 
 I was astounded. The whole thing had taken me 
 by surprise. I almost shouted out my denial of 
 her vehement denunciation of me, but, I thought to 
 myself, what did it matter? In a few minutes we 
 would dangle at the end of two ropes, and then what 
 difference would it make ? So I held my peace. But 
 I felt a curious thrill of bitter disappointment pass 
 through me as I marked her savage glances. This 
 girl for whom I had exposed myself to such dangers. 
 She who had protested so much. Ah, woman ! 
 woman ! who will fathom you ? Sick at heart, I 
 turned my head away. 
 
 The voice of the Sieur came to me. 
 
 ''Fair mademoiselle," he said, "a few moments 
 now will see you truly avenged. You will have the 
 pleasure of gloating over their strangled corpses." 
 
 "Sieur," she cried, "an' you love me, find some 
 better way. Think! Think! You will hang them, 
 but what good will that be to you or me ? '*- 
 
126 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 "Do you not desire revenge then?" he cried, 
 amazedly. 
 
 " Aye, revenge," she retorted, " but let us sweeten 
 revenge with profit. But send your men hence. I 
 would speak with you alone." 
 
 He did her bidding, and then she spoke rapidly. 
 
 "Victor Amadeus, our prince, has many rewards 
 for his faithful followers. Your delivery of these 
 spies to him will secure you his favour." 
 
 " But, mademoiselle," cried the puzzled knight, 
 " how will this profit you? " 
 
 " Do you not see? " she asked. " I gain revenge, 
 for Duke Victor will hang them, but I gain some- 
 thing more." 
 
 "And that is ? " he asked. 
 
 " Fortune for the man who has offered me his 
 hand," and she smiled coquettishly into his face. 
 
 Sitting in the chair into which I had been thrust 
 by the departing men I listened in horror to the 
 proposition. Such vileness I had not thought pos- 
 sible. O Briain must be right. The girl was worthless. 
 Even so, one curious thing puzzled me. She had not 
 mentioned anything of the matters of which I had 
 spoken to her. The landlord was not present, or 
 this fine scheme of mademoiselle's might have been 
 blown to the winds. But he had shuffled out with 
 the others. 
 
 " Is it then that you love me, ma belle? " cried the 
 Sieur amorously, and he endeavoured to embrace her. 
 But she avoided him, and coming close to me, hissed 
 into my face : 
 
 " Monsieur de Berac, how do you like my 
 scheme? " 
 
 I returned her gaze coldly, and said bitterly : 
 
 "Vile woman, your scheme is worthy of you," 
 and I added for her ear alone, " I trusted you. I did 
 not think you were so vile." 
 
 In the candlelight I thought I detected a look of 
 pain pass across her face, but she turned aw^ay and 
 stood whispering to the Sieur for some time. 'Then 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 127 
 
 she gave him her hand to kiss, and went away. As 
 she went, she called back : 
 
 '' Adieu then till to-morrow." 
 
 For several minutes the knight continued pacing 
 the room, apparently in deep thought. Every now 
 and then I heard him muttering : 
 
 " She will be mine. She will be mine. Dieu, she 
 is a clever woman. This plan of hers will make Duke 
 Victor my friend." 
 
 At last he shouted : 
 
 *' Ho, my men ! 'Tis time we were getting back." 
 
 His ruffians came trooping in, and we were again 
 dragged to our feet. When they heard that they 
 were to be disappointed of their sport they vented 
 their rage in vicious kicks and blows, and amused 
 themselves by offering wagers to one another as to 
 who would draw the first cry of pain from us. But 
 no cry rewarded their brutish play. At length, tiring 
 of their efforts, they hurried us away from Le Coq 
 Dor6, towards the chateau. After a toilsome journey 
 up the rugged pathway we halted before the grim, 
 lowering pile. The heavy gates swung open, and 
 when we had passed through clanged too again. 
 Now indeed it seemed as if the knell of doom had 
 sounded. What hope could there be here, alone, in 
 the stronghold of our enemy ? 
 
 Our captors hurried us into a large, square chamber 
 lit by numerous candles standing in tall iron candel- 
 abra placed on the floor. The Sieur came over to 
 me as I stood in the grip of two of his powerful 
 ruffians. 
 
 *' So, monsieur," he sneered, ''you thought to 
 defy the Sieur de la Gen^vre. His chateau would 
 repay inspection, would it? You are here now. 
 Examine it well, for your time will be short." 
 
 I made no reply, only looked the contempt I felt. 
 
 " Monsieur I'espion," he went on, tauntingly, 
 *' your master, Duke Vendome, should have sent one 
 who knows how to keep awake." 
 
 I winced. That unfortunate laxity of mine was a 
 
128 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 sore subject* I was tempted from my calm by the 
 taunt. 
 
 "Monsieur," I cried, *' no doubt he would have 
 done so had he known you were but a night prowler." 
 
 He uttered a fierce imprecation, and glared at me, 
 his eyes glittering. As I watched him I thought my 
 last hour had come. He dropped his hand to his 
 sword, and half drew it. But he clashed it back 
 again into its scabbard^ and raising his hand struck 
 me full on the mouth. 
 
 "That for you, dog of a spy," he hissed. Turn- 
 ing away he ordered : " Take them to the dungeons. 
 You know the one, Michel," to the black-browed 
 wrestler whom I noticed for the first time among my 
 captors. " Messieurs, I hope you will enjoy my 
 hospitality. I will send word to Duke Vendome 
 how you have fared, and how profitable your coming 
 has been to me. Duke Victor will reward me well. 
 A fair good night to you, but I fear I cannot say, 
 pleasant dreams. Our rats are not very pleasant 
 companions." 
 
 He bowed mockingly, but I laughed in his face. 
 As to poor Muiris, he said nothing. He was still 
 dazed and suffering from the ill-usage he had received 
 in the inn. Through a long passage, and down 
 several flights of stone steps, we were hurried. We 
 were thrust inside a small cell, and then the door 
 clanged shut, and I heard the bolts being shot into 
 place. For a few seconds the echo of the retreating 
 footsteps of our captors came back to me, then all 
 was silence. Beside me I could hear the breathing 
 of Muiris, and I almost blessed them for having 
 thrust us in together. 
 
 " Muiris," I said aloud, " I fear I have brought 
 ill luck on you. What can you think of me for 
 having gone to sleep at that cursed inn." 
 
 "As to ill luck," he answered, " I knew the risks 
 before we set out, knew that this was to be no mere 
 gambade. And as to your sleeping, why, you were 
 tired and weary. I might have slept myself, but that 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 129 
 
 Vm more seasoned than a youngster like you. Why 
 should we blame ourselves ? It will do us little good. 
 But, Piaras, I fear the mademoiselle was only play- 
 ing with us the whole time." 
 
 I was silent. Her actions puzzled me. Somehow 
 I found it hard to crush out all faith in her. Were it 
 not for her interference our dead bodies w^ould now 
 be swinging in the wind from some tall pine. But 
 O Briain's voice came to me again, muttering: 
 
 *' Ah, my poor head. It is bursting. Acht, dar 
 mo laimh, maybe I'd pay the rascal who struck me 
 yet," and his voice trailed off. 
 
 *' Muiris, Muiris!" I called, but only his heavy 
 breathing ansv/ered. He was asleep. And my own 
 eyes began to grow heavy. I remember thinking 
 dully of Aimt^e Neffer, how she had cheered us up 
 with her merry laugh and inconsequent chatter. How 
 winning she was! Alas, that she had ever come into 
 my life! I had such faith in her, and now 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 AIMl^E COMES 
 
 It must have been several hours later that I awoke 
 suddenly. Something had run across my face. With 
 a loud cry I made a frantic endeavour to spring to my 
 feet, but fell back heavily. 
 
 Ah, what a thing is sleep ! How it wafts you away 
 from the cares of earth, makes you insensible to its 
 trouble and turmoil, brings to you sweet oblivion I 
 My dreams had been pleasant. The gracious moun- 
 tain maid had had a place in them. No doubts of her 
 truth saddened me. To my dreaming senses she was 
 only constant and true, incapable of guile or deceit. 
 
 But what was that thing which had awakened me ; 
 that thing with claws which had passed across my 
 face? For a while I lay still, every sense on the alert, 
 endeavouring to pierce the thick blackness. But my 
 effort was vain. Fabled Styx cannot have been 
 blacker than was this dungeon. And then again I felt 
 the thing sniffing at my face. With an effort I rolled 
 over. My movement frightened the thing away. 
 Neither was it alone, for I heard a faint rustle as of 
 many feet. The horror of our position burst on me, 
 and I shouted frantically : 
 
 '• Muiris ! Muiris ! Awake ! awake ! " 
 
 ** What is it? " he questioned drowsily. 
 
 ** We must free ourselves," I cried. "The place 
 swarms with rats." 
 
 " Rats! rats! " I heard him mutter. 
 
 ** Aye, do you not remember," I cried, in terror lest 
 
 I3Q 
 
A SWORDSMAN 131 
 
 he might fall asleep again. '' Come, Muiris. Rouse 
 up. We must do something." 
 
 " Aye, but what? " he asked, and I knew he was 
 now alive to our danger. 
 
 I hardly knew what was to be done, but anything 
 was better than to lie there like logs at the mercy of this 
 horrible vermin. By rolling over I got close to where 
 Muiris lay. At last I found his hands, and bending 
 down bit and gnawed at the hard cords. Oh, how I 
 worked ! My teeth ached and throbbed. My lips 
 were broken and bleeding from the chafing against the 
 ropes. Muiris could do nothing but sit still. At last 
 when I had begun to despair, when my back seemed 
 as if it would break, my head hanging a dead weight 
 on my shoulders, I felt the cords loosen. A few 
 minutes more, and his arms were free, but they fell 
 away to his sides, stiff and useless. But gradually the 
 blood began to force its way through the numbed 
 limbs. 
 
 '' Now, Muiris," I cried, **a few minutes more, and 
 you are free." 
 
 When it was done he worked at my bonds, and at 
 last they fell away. In ecstacy I stretched out my 
 limbs, even though I groaned aloud with the agonis- 
 ing pain caused by the released blood. 
 
 " And now, a mhic," said Muiris, '' what next? " 
 
 " Nothing," I said, " but wait. We need not fear 
 the rats now that we are free." 
 
 It was weary work waiting there in that damp, cold 
 cell, leaning against the walls, slimy with moisture, 
 or groping about to keep the rats off. But we 
 managed it somehow, keeping up our spirits by 
 various poor little devices. In this way a couple of 
 hours dragged away when we caught the sound of 
 footsteps hurrying along the vaulted passage outside 
 our prison, and a ray of light entered through the 
 grated opening in the door. We had barely time to 
 spring behind it, and cower back out of sight, when 
 the bolts were withdrawn and the door sw^ung inwards. 
 For several seconds we blinked our dazzled eyes in the 
 
132 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 light of the lamp which our visitor carried. Then 
 growing accustomed to its glare, we beheld — Aimee 
 Neffer. I cried out in astonishment, for I am free to 
 confess that she was the last person I expected to see. 
 I had been hoping that it was the Sieur, or one of 
 his followers, for I had resolved to make a bold dash 
 for freedom after having choked him into submission. 
 But now 
 
 Our visitor was speaking in low tones. 
 
 *' Let us hurry, my friends. I have only a little 
 time to spare." 
 
 I regarded her coldly and scornfully. 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said, "'it is unfortunate for us 
 that you have come. I had hoped it was your lover. 
 It would have given us a chance to sell our lives 
 dearly, for I have no wish to spend any more time in 
 this hole. Go back to him. His company is more 
 fitting for you than that of honest men." 
 
 She looked at me with uncomprehending eyes. 
 
 ''What do you mean?" she cried. ''What has 
 happened? Surely it is not that you doubt 
 me?" 
 
 " Aye, mademoiselle," I replied. "Oh, you 
 played your game well with your pretended friend- 
 ship. What a fool I was to have trusted you I But 1 
 ought to have known that it could not be otherwise," 
 and I turned away contemptuously. 
 
 "You jest, monsieur," she cried. "I have done 
 nothing that justifies the use of such words." 
 
 " Ah, mademoiselle, you are a clever actress. I 
 bow to you," and turning I bowed mockingly. 
 " And it suits you to cultivate a short memory. Have 
 you then forgotten the inn ? Have you forgotten your 
 suggestions to the Sieur? Have you forgotten your 
 pretended friendship for us, your vindictive gloatings? 
 I miofht have known. You, the daughter of a 
 Vaudois rebel. "- 
 
 " I understand all now," she cried. "You doubt 
 me. Think I am a traitress, that I have come here to 
 gloat over your misfortunes. Ah, mon ami, believe 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 133 
 
 in me." Her voice trembled. " Believe that I have 
 only worked to save you. Yes, I have pretended to 
 be your enemy, but only that I might aid you. Ah, 
 bon Dieu, what I have gone through that I might 
 serve you I How I have allowed this man vv^hom I 
 loathe to make love to me ; how I have coquetted with 
 him! Ah, monsieur, if you knew you would not 
 doubt." 
 
 But I was stubbornly silent. Her words had all the 
 ring of truth, but I had hardened myself against 
 belief. A Dhia na bhfirean ! what a fool I was in my 
 blind unbelief 1 
 
 '' You have taunted me that I am the daughter of a 
 Vaudois rebel," she went on. *' 'Tis true, messieurs, 
 but even the daughter of a Vaudois rebel can recog- 
 nise the duties of friendship. Kind God, she can even 
 forget that the men who have befriended her are the 
 enemies of her people." 
 
 She bowed her head on her hands, and wept 
 bitterly. 
 
 For a long time I gazed at her in silence, listening 
 to her bitter sobs. I gloated over her agony, was glad 
 that my doubts and harsh words had given her pain. 
 But my better nature began to reassert itself, her tears 
 to reproach me. And I reasoned, what could she 
 hope to gain by coming here? We were prisoners 
 without means of escape. I turned to her. 
 
 ** Mademoiselle," I questioned, "why have you 
 come? " 
 
 '* To save you," she replied between her sobs. 
 
 ** But how can we trust you," I asked, '' after what 
 has happened? " 
 
 "Oh, how can you doubt me," she cried, looking 
 at me reproachfully. Before her accusing glance my 
 eyes fell. ..." I know," she went on, " that my 
 actions were open to doubt. But if I say to you that 
 I was acting a part that I should deceive the Sieur as 
 well as you ? Had he doubted my enmity to you, you 
 would not be here now. . . . Yes," as she noticed my 
 glance wander round the reeking walls, " 'tis a dreary 
 
134 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 place. But you know what his intentions were. Oh, 
 I tremble when I think of his horrible design." 
 
 I knew right well that she spoke truly. To her we 
 owed our lives so far. Had she not played her part 
 so well at Le Coq Dore we would now be past the 
 power of aid. I felt myself reddening with shame for 
 my treatment of her. But I was proud- I could not 
 confess that I had been wrong, yet a while. 
 
 "See!" she said, placing on ihe floor wine and 
 bread, " I have brought you food. It is not so choice 
 as I could have wished, but I could not procure better. 
 You must eat that you may be strong for the attempt 
 which we will make in a few hours. My friends, can 
 you still doubt me? " 
 
 I almost yielded, but my stubborn pride was still too 
 strong. I would not speak. She stretched out her 
 hands with an appealing gesture. 
 
 " Mon ami," she cried, " what do I gain by coming 
 to you ? Should the Sieur suspect me he would not 
 spare me, even though he is my lover." Her look of 
 reproach caused me to hang my head . . . '' You 
 will not send me away — I, who am your friend." 
 
 At last I was conquered by her pleading. 
 
 *' Mademoiselle," I cried, "I am a miserable 
 wretch. I have been mad, ungrateful in thinking you 
 capable of such baseness. I have pained you, have 
 called you traitress, mocked your goodness " 
 
 But she stopped me. 
 
 ** Hush! hush!" she cried, her voice softening, a 
 glow in her soft, black eyes. " I can forgive you any- 
 thing, mon ami . . ." and she added playfully: 
 " We are friends once more." 
 
 I did not trust myself to reply. She turned to 
 O Briain. 
 
 "And you, monsieur," she asked, "have you no 
 word to say to me? " 
 
 And he answered simply: "Mademoiselle, I 
 doubted you, but I doubt no longer. I will trust you 
 in everything." 
 
 She laughed happily, and swept him a little curtsy. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 135 
 
 Then spreading out the food she had brought she bade 
 us eat while she spoke of her plan. The floor of that 
 damp dungeon was hardly an ideal banqueting board, 
 but two hungry prisoners are not likely to grumble 
 at the serving of their food. And we were hungry. 
 'Twas only now that I noticed how hungry. We had 
 eaten nothing since our capture. The Sieur's men 
 had evidently forgotten us, or if they had brought 
 anything while we slept the rats had regaled them- 
 selves on it. 
 
 " How long have we been here? " I asked, for I 
 had lost count of time. 
 
 *' Almost a day has passed since you were brought 
 here," replied Aimee. '' This morning the Sieursent 
 a messenger to Prince Victor Amadeus to announce 
 your capture. He ought to return to-morrow. There- 
 fore we must make our attempt at escape to-night." 
 
 "But, mademoiselle," I cried, ** I do not under- 
 stand. How comes it that you are here ? Forgive me 
 the question." 
 
 '*Why should he not trust me?" she asked. 
 *' Does not a man trust the woman who is to be his 
 wife ? For I have promised to be his wife. I blush 
 to think of the things which I have done. I have 
 deceived this poor fool, but it was for your safety." 
 
 And I had doubted her. I felt bitterly ashamed of 
 my miserable conduct. How mean and contemptible 
 I felt myself beside this noble mountain maid ! I could 
 hear O Briain mutter: " A Dhia na nGras, and we 
 thought her traitress!" 
 
 ''Yes," she went on, **he trusts me, and believes 
 that I have come to gloat over my enemies. But we 
 must hurry. He might come to seek me. In this 
 dungeon he believes you are safe, that there is no 
 necessity to guard you. But he told me you were 
 bound." 
 
 I pointed to the bonds we had cast off. 
 '* Not too tightly to free ourselves," I said. *' And 
 'twas well. Rats are unpleasant com.panions for 
 bound men.*- 
 
136 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 She shuddered. 
 
 " You must allay all suspicion till the time comes. 
 If anyone found you unloosed it might cause the Sieur 
 to place guards in the passage outside. That would 
 be unfortunate, and might be fatal to our chances. I 
 will come to you again as soon as I can. Then we will 
 steal from this horrible place, and try to make our 
 way out of the chateau. It is a plan full of dangers, 
 my friends, but there is no other way." 
 
 " And now," she cried, '* I must go. Allow me 
 to bind you up again. But you need have no fear. 
 A couple of hours more, and you will be free." 
 
 *' Unless we are dead," I muttered. I was resolved 
 once free of that horrible dungeon not to be taken back 
 to it again. She bound us loosely, and then bidding 
 us be of good cheer went away, taking her lantern 
 with her. I listened to the echo of her footsteps 
 dying away along the passage, and then cried to 
 O Briain : 
 
 " There goes a true girl." 
 
 ** Aye," he replied, " as true as breathes." And 
 he added: " To think how vile I thought her." 
 
 Poor Muiris, and he never blamed me for having 
 dishonoured her by my distrust I 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 FREEDOM — ^THE FLIGHT ACROSS THE MOUNTAINS 
 
 Only a few hours our fair protectress had said, but 
 how long they seemed, dragging away on leaden 
 wings. I know I counted the minutes as they passed, 
 counted them again and again, and yet again, till it 
 almost seemed as if time were standing still. Before, 
 that damp, noisome dungeon with its slimy walls and 
 swarming vermin had appeared miserable enough. 
 But now in the renewed light of hope how terrible, 
 how frightful it was. And then a thought would 
 obtrude itself : what if Aim(^e Neffer should fail ; if the 
 Sieur should have his suspicions aroused! Thus I 
 tortured myself, and almost thanked the rats when 
 encouraged by the silence and gloom they crept from 
 their holes, and commenced to gnaw at our boots. It 
 was a blessed interruption. With kicks we sent them 
 scampering back to their dens. 
 
 So long a time had now elapsed that I feared the 
 plot had failed, and was about to give utterance to my 
 thought aloud, when the sound of a light step hurry- 
 ing along the passage caused me to pause. With 
 dilated eyes I watched the shaft of light which came 
 through the grating grow bigger and bigger, then as 
 the bolts were pulled back, I whispered to Muiris: 
 
 ''She is here." 
 
 As she came in through the door we relieved our 
 pent-up feelings by a low cry of welcome. 
 
 " Hush ! Hush I " she whispered. *' The danger is 
 great. I fear the Sieur begins to suspect. I could 
 hardly get away." 
 
 137 
 
138 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 While she was speaking she was severing our 
 bonds. 
 
 " These were the only weapons I could secure," she 
 whispered, thrusting a couple of stout hunting knives 
 into our hands. . . . "Hark!" she cried, as the 
 noise of heavy footsteps struck on our ears, " someone 
 comes." 
 
 We stood listening. Quickly they advanced along 
 the passage. 
 
 ** Whoever it is can only be coming here," she 
 whispered. " You must overpower him, and stifle 
 his cries. If not he will rouse up the castle, and then 
 all is lost." 
 
 The steps came closer. It seemed an age till the 
 new-comer stopped outside. 
 
 " Mon Dieu," gasped Aim^e into my ear, "it is 
 the Sieur. He has followed me." 
 
 As the door swung inwards we crouched behind it 
 hidden from his view. Then with a sudden spring 
 I was on him, my hands gripped round his throat, 
 strangling back the cry w^hich rose to his lips. He 
 struggled like a madman, but I choked him into 
 quiescence. Quickly I stripped off his coat and boots, 
 and put them on, and then, a gag thrust into his 
 mouth, we bound him with the cords we had 
 worn. 
 
 " The coming of the Sieur has not been so unfor- 
 tunate," I said. " It has supplied me with arms and 
 a disguise which may serve us well. If we could 
 procure one for you, Muiris. No one will suspect 
 you, mademoiselle." 
 
 " No, I do not think so," she said. " Will I not 
 be in the company of the Sieur ? But let us go. Every 
 minute we remain here increases the danger." 
 
 A muffled sound caused us to look round. The 
 Sieur had recovered, and was glaring at us. I have 
 looked into the faces of men maddened by the lust 
 of battle, but seldom have I seen such a look of hate 
 as now distorted the features of our prisoner. 
 
 "Ah, monsieur," I cried, "you have recovered. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 139 
 
 We are sorry that we have been so rough. But 
 necessity, M. de la Gen^vre, necessity. May your 
 stay here be as pleasant as ours has been." 
 
 " Come," whispered Aimee, shuddering before the 
 knight's baleful glare, " I begin to grow afraid." 
 
 I caught her hand, and pressed it reassuringly. I 
 felt it tremble within my grasp. 
 
 *' A merry good night to you, monsieur," I cried. 
 ** We regret we must leave you in the dark." 
 
 Thus we left him, and bolting the door after us, 
 walked boldly along the passage. The securing of a 
 disguise for Muiris was troubling me. Our risk was 
 doubled by his having to go forward dressed as he was 
 when captured. If by any mischance he should be 
 seen by the Sieur's rascals we would be at once 
 betrayed. Dressed in the Sieur's dandyish coat of 
 fine yellow silk, with his plumed hat pulled down over 
 my eyes, I might escape too many inquisitive glances. 
 But we could only hope that chance might throw 
 something in our way. 
 
 We reached the end of the vaulted passage, and 
 were at the foot of the stone steps which led upwards 
 from the dungeons. 
 
 " Extinguish the light," whispered Aim6e. "We 
 must go forward in the darkness. Be careful. A 
 sound would betray us." 
 
 We crept up the stairs after our fair guide, and 
 found ourselves in a passage similar to the one we had 
 left, but that this one was lit by embrasures high up 
 in the walls through which the moonlight streamed 
 in. Before venturing out into it we peeped out cau- 
 tiously to see if it were clear. Away at its far end 
 we perceived a ray of light which seemed to filter out 
 under a doorway. To our ears was borne the sound 
 of voices raised in rude song. 
 
 " The Sieur's men," whispered Aim^e. 
 But another sound came to us. The sound of 
 footsteps. A man was coming towards us carrying 
 a lantern. As I caught its gleam I pulled the others 
 back into the opening. 
 
140 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 *'If he passes," I whispered Lo Muiris, "let him 
 go. If not we must silence him. Mademoiselle, we 
 would gladly spare you such scenes." 
 
 " I know their necessity," said the brave girl. 
 "We cannot pause now." 
 
 The man came on, lilting to himself right merrily. 
 Waiting there in the shadows we scarcely dared to 
 breathe. He came opposite our hiding-place. It 
 seemed as if he were passing on. But no. He turned 
 to descend. Like a tiger I leaped at him, and struck 
 a swinging blow with the haft of my knife. He fell 
 without a cry, but ere I had time to seize it his lantern 
 went rolling and bounding down the stairs. Its 
 clatter seemed to fill the whole place. It echoed and 
 re-echoed along the passages as if it were a thunder- 
 peal. For full five minutes we waited, not daring to 
 move. But the din, though it sounded so terrifying 
 to us, had attracted no notice. No shouts of alarm 
 rang out, nor did we hear the rush of hurrying men. 
 
 "Now, Muiris," I cried, "strip him. Hurry, 
 man! Hurry!" 
 
 In a few minutes we were ready to venture again. 
 We could walk more boldly now, since in the long 
 cloak and steel morion Muiris was quite transformed 
 into one of the Sieur's brigands. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Aim^e," I whispered, as we stepped 
 out, " you must give me your arm. Think you lovers 
 would walk so far apart. And am I not your lover ? " 
 
 She said nothing, but placed her arm within mine. 
 I noticed that she was trembling like a leaf. 
 
 " Fear not," I whispered, bending down. " Every- 
 thing goes well. So far there is no alarm." 
 
 "It is not that I fear," she replied, but I noticed 
 that she blushed up to the roots of her hair. Ah, how 
 blind we men are ! 
 
 We went along swiftly, past the door behind which 
 our enemies gambled and caroused. Through long 
 passages which seemed endless we sped, crouching 
 into dark corners when a step warned us that an 
 enemy was near. Several times it appeared as if we 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 141 
 
 were on the point of capture, but always the danger 
 passed us by. We were fortunate in that none of the 
 Sieur's men met us, because I fear I did not mai^e 
 a very presentable Sieur, even though I was now 
 wrapped in his cloak, which we had found in a room 
 which lay in our path. But our stars were in the 
 ascendant. We passed unseen. But through it all 
 my hand rested on my sword-hilt, and not once but 
 many times, I was within an ace of shouting a cry of 
 warning to Muiris who followed behind. 
 
 At length we found ourselves out in the open air, 
 and now the most dangerous part of our task lay 
 before us. We must run the gauntlet of the guards 
 posted at the gate. True, the darkness of the night 
 was in our favour, and so there was less danger of 
 being recognised than within the chateau. But the 
 lateness of the hour was against us. It was hardly 
 probable that the Sieur made it a habit to take mid- 
 night rambles amongst the hills. But we must 
 not fail now. A bold bearing might carry us through. 
 And if we were outside the gates, what then-? On 
 foot we could make but poor progress. Oh, if we 
 had a couple of good horses how we would make the 
 ground fly ! I stooped to whisper my thought to 
 Aim^e. 
 
 *' No, no," she cried, " it would delay us too 
 long. We dare not try to procure them." 
 
 I did not urge, for I saw that there was much in her 
 objection. At the gate I cried out in as hoarse a voice 
 as I could assume to the man who came hurrying 
 forward, to open. He seemed to be surprised at the 
 request, and hesitated, mumbling something about the 
 lateness of the hour. 
 
 ** What, dog I" I cried angrily. "You question 
 me. Open, I say," and I half drew my sword. 
 
 He flew to do my bidding. The big gate swung 
 back, and we passed out with leisurely stride beneath 
 the vaulted archway. I felt sorely tempted to run, 
 but that would be neither safe nor dignified. And so 
 we walked as if nothing more important than our 
 
142 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 midnight ramble troubled us. Better lose a few 
 precious minutes than spoil all by our precipitancy. 
 When we felt we were well away from prying eyes 
 we hurried on and on. 
 
 At last as if with one accord we halted. For a while 
 we stood gazing round us. Above us the stars 
 twinkled brightly in a clear sky. Across the moun- 
 tains the cold, biting breeze came sweeping stingingly 
 into our faces. Around us was the loneliness of the 
 great wastes, which seemed to speak to our souls in 
 that midnight hour for all its mysterious silence. We 
 gloried in the wild beauty, though we were filled with 
 sadness. We drank in the pure air of freedom which 
 we had thought we would never breathe again. We 
 stamped on our memories every feature of that mighty 
 picture spread out before us, a picture rendered all 
 the more precious by contrast with the horrible 
 dungeon we had left. 
 
 Behind us shooting its tall turrets into the air the 
 chateau stood perched on its rock. Down below us 
 lay spread out, bathed in the silver moonlight, rocky 
 gleann and deep pine forest. Afar off I caught a 
 glimpse of some mountain lakelet, its waters silvered 
 by the moon's rays. Ha ! was that the glimmering 
 of a fire gleaming out so redly in the distance. My 
 wandering thoughts flew back to our camp at Ivrea. 
 Mayhap that was one of our watch-fires. Perhaps 
 some of Dillon's brave fellows beguiled their watch 
 beside it. If I failed, down there I would meet my 
 death. But no. How could it be? Ivrea lay far, far 
 beyond my range of vision. 
 
 The voice of Aim^e Neffer recalled me to a sense 
 of our danger. 
 
 " We must not tarry here," she said. *' Our 
 enemies may discover their master. We must be far 
 on our way before they do.'* 
 
 ** Oh, that we had horses," I cried. '* How we 
 would make this ground fly! " 
 
 ** You do not blame me," said the girl, a wistful 
 note in her voice. " I acted for the best." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 143 
 
 " Blame you," I cried, and caught her to my breast 
 in a passionate embrace. I kissed her, not once, but 
 many times. For a few seconds she lay quiet in 
 my arms, then broke away with flaming cheeks and 
 heaving bosom. And I, ashamed, bitterly repenting 
 my mad action, stood before her with bowed head. 
 
 ''Mademoiselle," I cried, "can you forgive me? 
 I was foolish, mad, carried away by my feelings. 
 Bitterly I repent this thing. Oh, believe me when 
 I say that not even in my thoughts would I harm you. 
 But do not let the madness of a moment condemn me 
 to an unworthy place in your thoughts." 
 
 She came over to me, and placed both her little 
 hands within mine. 
 
 " I forgive you, M. de Gras," she said softly. " I 
 understand how that foolish action has pained you. 
 Spite of it I would be willing to commit my honour to 
 the keeping of one of the most chivalrous gentlemen 
 I have ever known." 
 
 " Ah, mademoiselle, how you shame me I " I cried, 
 raising her hand to my lips. 
 
 "Let us forget it," she said. . . . "Hasten! 
 Hasten ! Let us away from this place." 
 
 We hastened forward again, fearing every moment 
 to hear the alarm behind which would tell of our 
 escape. But no clamorous bell clanged out. Silence 
 only reigned. On, ever onward we pressed, wading 
 through quagmires which trembled and shook under 
 our feet, splashing through brawling streams, forcing 
 our way through gorse and heather. Now we walked 
 ankle-deep in water which bore with it in its bosom 
 the iciness of its glacier birthplace. Again we toiled 
 bent-backed up stony paths which hurt and tortured 
 the feet. To Muiris and myself with our stout, heavy 
 boots it was a painful journey, but to our fair com- 
 panion it was simply misery. Her shoes were little 
 /protection against the sharp stones and shingle of 
 the way we were pursuing. But she never murmured, 
 never complained, only pressed on by the most 
 unfrequented paths known to her. At last I stopped. 
 
144 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 ** Mademoiselle," I cried, "this cannot be. You 
 must not walk farther. You must permit us to carry 
 you. Muiris and I will relieve one another." 
 
 "No, no," she cried, "I could not be such a 
 burthen to you. It is several hours' journey yet to the 
 chaumiere of Gaspard, whither we are going. How 
 could you carry me for such a distance? " 
 
 " But you cannot walk farther," I urged. 
 " Believe me, we will make quicker progress. And 
 we are not pursued." 
 
 She looked down at her poor, bruised feet, and 
 laughed. 
 
 " Ah, what a burthen I am," she cried. " Only a 
 poor, weak girl. I, who pretend to be your rescuer. 
 My friends, it would be better that you should go on 
 alone. I will point you out the way." 
 
 But we cried out in horror at the suggestion. 
 Leave her, who had brought us out of the place 
 of bondage, to face unknown perils alone! Muiris 
 swore roundly that if it were necessary to carry her 
 every inch of the way he would do so rather than 
 leave her there. Or if she refused to be carried, we 
 would remain by her. Finally she consented, and 
 beckoned me to her side. 
 
 " I claim your assistance, brave knight," she cried 
 playfully. 
 
 " After my foolishness," I asked, " you will trust 
 me. 
 
 "Even so," she replied, and more softly ... "I 
 will trust my knight in all things." 
 
 Raising her in my arms we went forward again. 
 She was a light burthen, and we made fair progress. 
 We went on for about an hour in this fashion, 
 O Briain relieving me from time to time. Then we 
 found the way becoming steeper, and more difficult 
 even, than it had been before. Thinking that it was 
 better to rest before attempting the toilsome climb, 
 and feeling that I might safely do so, I called a halt. 
 Seating- ourselves on a bank of ferns we rested our 
 wearv limbs. 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 PURSUIT — DEFEAT IN VICTORY 
 
 A LONG time we remained there enjoying the grate- 
 ful rest. We told ourselves that we were safe, that 
 no enemies were on our track. We told ourselves 
 that the unfortunate Sieur had not been rescued from 
 his unpleasant abode, or if he had been, and our 
 pursuit taken up, that our enemies had missed us. 
 And so the minutes fled on. 
 
 Suddenly a shot rang out. It Vv^as difficult to tell 
 how near or far away it might be, owing to the myriad 
 echoes which it roused up. We listened to them 
 dying away. Then we looked at each other furtively. 
 No one spoke. It seemed to be as if each feared to 
 give confirmation to the other's thought. We had 
 been so certain that our enemies had missed us, that 
 that shot sounded in our ears as the very crack of 
 doom, blasting our hopes, bringing the airy castles 
 we had built tumbling down about our ears. But 
 might it not be the shot of some solitary hunter who 
 had chosen the night to steal on his" prey? And 
 because we cling to hope sometimes with such blind 
 faith, I almost persuaded myself it was so. But we 
 would not take any chances; and so I turned to the 
 others and told them we must go on. Muiris pulled 
 me aside and whispered: 
 
 *' You heard that shot? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied, " and I fear that we are pursued. 
 But not a word. We must not alarm mademoiselle 
 needlessly. After all it may be only a hunter. If 
 not she will know too soon." 
 
 145 K 
 
146 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 Forward again on our march. We now carried 
 our fair guide in a kind of sling which we had 
 fashioned during our halt from a pair of stout 
 saplings we had hewn down in the pine-woods, and 
 our cloaks. It was only a poor makeshift, but we 
 were rather proud of it. It divided the labour of 
 carrying Aimde, whose feet were now so badly 
 swollen that she could only limp painfully along. 
 Seated in her rough sedan-chair, elevated on our 
 shoulders, she could keep a sharp watch for any 
 threatened danger. We were getting along rapidly, 
 and I was beginning to think that the echoing shot 
 had meant nothing after all, when suddenly a startled 
 cry came from Aimde : 
 
 " Great God, we are pursued! ** 
 
 Almost involuntarily we halted, and looked back. 
 Behind us away on the side of the mountain which 
 overlooked the valley we were traversing, we beheld 
 quite a dozen men outlined in the bright moonlight. 
 Their cries came faintly to us. We saw a couple 
 of them raise their pieces to their shoulders. Their 
 shots woke up the slumbering echoes. But we could 
 laugh at their bullets. They were only throwing 
 them away. But we could not hope to outdistance 
 them for long. Soon they would be close up on 
 our rear. 
 
 ** M'anam do Dhia ! " cried out Muiris, ** we are 
 taken in front." 
 
 He spoke truly. Some distance in front, but on 
 our left hand, came a second party. At the moment 
 they were crossing an open tract of mountain. For 
 a few moments they were visible to us, then dis- 
 appeared into a thick grove of pines. We counted 
 six men. They had seen us also, for we heard shots 
 being fired as if in signal to the others. We judged 
 both parties to be at least half a mile away yet, and 
 it goes without saying that they could make quicker 
 progress than we could, hampered as we were. 
 Unfortunately the ground offered little advantage for 
 defence. Oh, how my heart ached to have to fly 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 147 
 
 before those rascals I But there was nothing else 
 to do. 
 
 "If we could only reach shelter," I cried, '^ we 
 might keep them at bay. But in this plain " 
 
 " We must surrender, or sell our lives as dearly as 
 possible," finished O Briain grimly. 
 
 But Aimee Neffer broke in: " About half a mile 
 ahead there is a place where the mountain is rent in 
 twain by a frightful chasm called La Gorge. It is 
 crossed by a little wooden bridge. If we could reach 
 it " 
 
 I had heard enough. 
 
 *' On, on," I cried. " We must try to cheat our 
 pursuers." 
 
 Forward we dashed, the sling swaying from side 
 to side threatening to unseat its occupant. I shouted 
 to her to hold tightly, and she answered bravely. 
 Ah, there was brave blood in that Vaudois maid! 
 No puling, timorous girl she! As we came level 
 with the flanking party they were little more than a 
 gunshot away. They were now in full view, and 
 shouted loudly to us to stop. But we paid no heed. 
 We heard a couple of shots ring out, but the aim 
 was uncertain. Ahead of us rose up the precipices 
 which bounded the gorge, scarcely two hundred yards 
 away. If we could only reach it. The ground had 
 become rougher and more broken. Huge granite 
 boulders were strewn round as if they had been 
 thrown from the cliffs above 'by some giant hand. 
 In front a few yards away lay safety; behind us, 
 ever nearer and nearer, rang out the yells of our 
 enemies. For the moment we were hidden by one 
 of the granite masses. 
 
 '* Muiris," I panted out, ** these devils must be 
 kept back. I will make a stand here. Do you press 
 on with mademoiselle. When you cross the bridge 
 see if it could be broken down. Do what you can, 
 and when you are ready a shrill whistle will warn 
 me. Give me your pistols. You will not need 
 them." 
 
148 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 *' No, no," cried Muiris, ** I will stay." 
 
 " Muiris," I cried sternly, *' who holds the 
 Duke's orders? Besides, you must go on with 
 mademoiselle." 
 
 We threw aside the sling. Its use was past. 
 Aimee stood beside me. As she heard my in- 
 structions to Muiris she uttered a cry of anguish, 
 and laid her hand on my arm. 
 
 ''Oh, Piaras, Piaras ! " she whispered, "must 
 you do this thing? " 
 
 " Mademoiselle," I said, smiling into her eyes, 
 " I will rejoin you in a few minutes. Have no fear." 
 
 But I pressed her hand to my lips with fervour. 
 Perhaps it might be my farewell. She turned away 
 lingeringly, and I whispered to Muiris: 
 
 "If I should not come within fifteen minutes 
 destroy the bridge, and go on with mademoiselle." 
 
 He caught my hand in a firm grip, and turned 
 away. Gallant old Muiris! I believe there were 
 tears in his eyes. I watched them go, Muiris half 
 leading, half carrying his companion. Though she 
 had borne herself so bravely, the hardships of the 
 journey had told heavily on her. She was indeed 
 paving her debt. 
 
 Ensconced behind a large rock which commanded 
 the path our foes must come, I waited. If I could 
 keep them back till Muiris had crossed the bridge, 
 all would be well. If not — if, seeing through my 
 ruse, they should overwhelm me at one fierce rush ? 
 I shrugged my shoulders — *twas as good to die thus 
 as otherwise. My friends would have got a good 
 start ; they would escape. 
 
 But the enemy were close up. They had no 
 suspicion of my ambuscade. They rushed on un- 
 thinkino-ly. I waited till they were well within 
 pistol-shot. Then my pistol spoke out, and was 
 answered by a loud crv. In confusion my foes drew 
 back. I could hear the Sieur cursing loudly, shout- 
 ing to his men to take cover and advance cautiously. 
 Keeping well out of sight I crept away to another 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 149 
 
 rock and waited. I had not long to wait. Soon I 
 perceived a couple of dark forms flitting from rock 
 to rock. Again I fired and carried out my former 
 manoeuvre. A Mhuirel would that whistle never 
 come ? If the Sieur once perceived that there was 
 only a solitary individual in front, which he must 
 inevitably do, he would quickly crush me by his swift 
 advance. And then I threw up my pistol and fired at 
 a figure darkly outlined before me. I heard the 
 man's sharp cry of pain, and then the voice of the 
 Sieur rang out: 
 
 "Forward, men; this is but a trick. Are you 
 afraid of one man ? " 
 
 Ah, this was the end I For what could I hope to 
 do against the swarming enemy? I had barely one 
 shot left, and then my sword. Well, I might die in 
 a worse way. But suddenly shrilling through the 
 air came a long drawn-out whistle. The signal ! 
 Springing to my feet I raced ahead. Behind me a 
 couple of shots rang out, but the bullets flattened 
 themselves against the rocks or sang through the air 
 over my head. I could hear the footsteps pounding 
 behind, but the bridge was well in sight. Beyond 
 it I saw Muiris O Briain and the girl. A Ri an 
 Domhain ! Could I pass it in time ? A backward 
 glance showed me that my pursuers had scattered 
 out. Close at my heels came a tall fellow who had 
 raced ahead a good distance in front of the others. 
 I heard the cry of Aimee calling to me to take care. 
 Suddenly I halted, and springing aside, crashed my 
 sword, which I had drawn with a sudden wrench, 
 down on his head, as he raced past unable to stop 
 himself. With a choking cry he fell, and leaping 
 across his prostrate body, I raced across the bridge, 
 which trembled and shook beneath my weight. 
 
 "Down, down with it!" yelled Muiris, as I 
 reached the other side. " I have cut the lashings.'* 
 
 We bent ourselves to the work. The bridge was 
 merely a rough structure of pines lashed together, 
 with smoothened timbers to make a footway. Along 
 
150 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 the sides ran a hand-rail breast high. It was lashed 
 with stout ropes to several large pines which grew 
 close to the edge of the gorge at either side. These 
 lashings Muiris had cut away with his sword. If we 
 could cast the bridge down into the depths below we 
 would be safe from pursuit, for the chasm was too 
 wide to cross by leaping. But our enemies were 
 perilously near. As we strained and tugged at the 
 structure we could hear the Sieur urging them on. 
 He had seen our purpose, and was screaming 
 shrilly : 
 
 ''The bridge! The bridge! They are breaking 
 it down." 
 
 It was yielding. Another push or two would send 
 it hurtling down into the dark depths below, where 
 a furious torrent swept and foamed along. And then 
 with a grinding crash it toppled over. We were 
 safe, but two minutes more would have lost all. 
 
 Our enemies had reached the edge of the cliff 
 beyond, and stood cursing and fuming. We could 
 see the Sieur, his ugly face distorted with rage, 
 shaking his fist across at us. Suddenly he turned 
 and gave some order to his men which we could not 
 hear. But its significance was borne in on us as we 
 saw them throw their pieces to their shoulders. 
 
 ** Down! down! " I shouted, dragging the girl to 
 the ground. 
 
 The volley crashed out, and I heard a sharp 
 exclamation from O Briain, but thought little of it. 
 Drawing the still loaded pistol from my belt, I fired, 
 but missed. Rising to my feet, I shouted : 
 
 " M. le Sieur, we will meet again. We may be 
 more evenly matched then." 
 
 He answered with a string of curses, and shouted 
 back : 
 
 " Speed the day. You will know what it is to 
 have made an enemy of Gustave de la Gen^vre." 
 
 Turning I gave my arm to Aimee Neffer. She 
 limped along painfully, and I was about to propose 
 a rest when we had gone a short distance, but 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 151 
 
 Briain, who had been walking along silently, stag- 
 gered. If I had not caught him with my disengaged 
 hand he would have fallen. 
 
 '* A Mhuirel " I cried. " What has happened? " 
 •* Piaras, a mhic," he said, and he spoke with much 
 difficulty, '* my time has come. A bullet has entered 
 here; " and then I perceived that he held his hand 
 tightly pressed against his side. When he took it 
 away the blood gushed out. That cry I Now, now I 
 remembered. 
 
 *' Muiris," I cried, '' we will bind up your wound." 
 Even as I spoke I knew how useless it was to try to 
 stanch that gaping wound. 
 
 " It is impossible," he said. '* My days are spent. 
 
 1 am tired, and cannot go farther." 
 
 Gently we laid him down, his back propped against 
 a tree. Aim^e Neffer was weeping silently, and I — my 
 eyes were hardly dry. To think that poor Muiris had 
 come to these mountains to die. I thought sadly what 
 an ill-omened fellow I was. Never again would I hear 
 his hearty laugh ; never feel his strong hand-clasp. 
 
 But he was speaking. It almost seemed as if he 
 divined my thoughts. And mayhap he did. Such 
 flashes of illumination come to the dying. 
 
 '* Piaras, a mhic," he said, and I had to bend to 
 catch his words he spoke so lowly, ** do not blame 
 yourself. You remember the day we spoke in the 
 hospital. I had a feeling then that my time was near. 
 The end has come, as I hoped it would, from the 
 soldier's bullet. And I have done my duty. This 
 little girl," and he raised his poor hand and laid it 
 caressingly on Aim^e Neffer's dark head, " knows 
 how well. Is it not so, a chailin dubh dilis? " 
 
 But she could not answer because of her tears., 
 
 " What! you weep! " he cried. ** Ah, child, is it 
 not better so ? Is it not better that death should come 
 thus with friends by my side ? Why weep then ? My 
 duty is done, my life is spent. I go to meet those 
 friends I have known. A poor soldier alone in the 
 world, it is better that I should go. You will tell my 
 
152 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 brave comrades of Dillon's, Piaras, how I died. Ah, 
 they loved me. How many a brave day we saw to- 
 gether. Ah, Piaras, was I not right when I said yon 
 day that I would never see our country again." 
 
 "Alas! alas!" cried Aimee, fondling his poor 
 hand, and I ground my teeth together to force back 
 the bitter cry which rose to my lips. 
 
 Then his mind began to wander. He was back 
 again in the valleys of his native Clare. Again he 
 roamed, a child, through the long, golden summer 
 evenings, spoke of friends long dead and laid to rest. 
 Now his voice rang out with the wild peal of battle, 
 as in fancy he led his men forward in the whirling 
 charge against the enemies of his race. Suddenly he 
 shouted: " Trasker, look to yourself. ... I seek only 
 vengeance." And now he seemed to be gazing down 
 on the upturned face of his enemy, as he muttered: 
 " i^.Iaire ! wife! You are avenged." 
 
 Ah me, how sad it all was, standing there with the 
 night wind murmuring mournfully round, the vast 
 mountain solitude broken now and again by the whis- 
 perings and mutterings of the dying man. And I had 
 thought that we were the victors. With my brave old 
 friend lying there, his life ebbing away, how cold, 
 how empty seemed our victory. 
 
 Suddenly he sat erect. 
 
 " Piaras," he cried, and his voice rang out 
 strongly, "all's well. The enemy are driven back. 
 I can die happy now. Do not fear. . . . Give me 
 your hands, for it grows dark." 
 
 We placed our hands silently in his, and I heard 
 him whisper : 
 
 " losa, Muire, dean trocaire ar m'anam." 
 
 'Twas the end. With scarcely a tremor the gallant 
 soldier passed away. He had gone on his last march. 
 
 For a long time I stood gazing down at his face. 
 At last Muiris O Briain was at rest. Death had 
 passed him by on the battlefield; it had come to him 
 here on the mountains, far from the land of his youth. 
 No more for him would bray out the trumpet calling 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 153 
 
 to the maddening battle-charge. His sword might 
 rust in its scabbard. Muiris O Briain would not need 
 it more. 
 
 Gently I disengaged my hand from the stiffening 
 fingers, and touching the girl on the shoulder, assisted 
 her to rise. 
 
 " Ah, how luckless I am," she cried, with a heart- 
 broken moan. "To my friends I bring only mis- 
 fortune." 
 
 I comforted her, and after a time she grew calm. 
 Then with the dead branches strewn round I covered 
 over the body of our poor friend, and piled stones 
 above him. With heavy hearts we turned away, 
 leaving brave Muiris to the repose he had so well 
 earned. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 REFUGE — A DEBT WELL PAID 
 
 The grey dawn was breaking as we stood before the 
 little cottage of Gaspard. He sprung from his bed at 
 our knock, and flung his door wide to us. He wel- 
 comed us heartily. 'Twas but little he could offer us, 
 but that little he would give gladly. I thought how 
 differently he had acted on the former occasion I had 
 met him. Then he had watched only for the chance of 
 sending a bullet through me. Now as he stood in the 
 open doorway, he even regarded me with a smiling 
 face. 
 
 Aim6e related to him all that had happened, and 
 asked that he give us food. He set before us cheese 
 and black bread, with goat's milk and wine. We ate 
 heartily, for though our hearts were sad we felt that 
 we must keep up our strength. We knew not what 
 the future held, nor what further demands might be 
 made on our strength. When we had eaten, I bade 
 Aim^e retire to the inner room that she might rest. 
 After telling Gaspard to keep guard outside in case of 
 alarm she retired, remarking to me: 
 
 ** This place is far from the chateau. But it is well 
 to be on one's guard. The Sieur de la Gen^vre is a 
 revengeful man. He might even find means to follow 
 us here." 
 
 For a time I sat gazing into the blazing log-fire 
 which Gaspard had kindled. Around me silence 
 reigned. From the inner room I could hear the gentle 
 breathing of the fair sleeper. I thought sadly of the 
 
 154 
 
A SWORDSMAN 155 
 
 events of the past few days. What would be the 
 outcome of all this miserable tangle ? A few miles up 
 the mountain slept poor Muiris, my best friend, victim 
 to the mad scheme of the Duke. Ah, how well the 
 Chevalier de Frobin had spoken when he said the 
 Duke would avenge him I How now could I hope to 
 succeed against the powerful mountain traitor? Sus- 
 pected, alone, how could I venture back to his strong- 
 hold? Was it not better to return and hand up my 
 sword and life into the hands of the Duke ? _ But tired, 
 overtaxed Nature demanded its due, and sitting there 
 I fell asleep. 
 
 I awoke with a start. It was well on into the day, 
 for the sun was shining brightly in through the tiny 
 window. I had started up with the sound of a shot 
 ringing in my ears. For several seconds my dazed 
 senses refused to act. Then the sound of a struggle 
 came, and the thud of a heavy blow, followed by 
 silence. I leapt to my feet. With a bound I was at 
 the door, but it was hurled in, and a man sprang across 
 the threshold. A glance showed me who it was. 
 The Sieur de la Gen^vre, his eyes bloodshot, his 
 clothes torn and covered with mud. With a heavy 
 blow he sent me to the ground, and springing over me 
 dashed in the door of the room where Aimde Neffer 
 lay. As he caught sight of her a terrible oath burst 
 from his lips. 
 
 "You jade," he shouted, ''this for your 
 treachery I ' * 
 
 The crack of his pistol was followed by a sharp cry 
 of pain. 
 
 " Devil ! " I shouted, springing on him. " Defend 
 yourself." 
 
 He cast away the empty pistol and turned to meet 
 my attack. To the winds were now cast skill and 
 science. Only the terrible, primitive passions of 
 savage man were uppermost as we grappled and tore 
 at each other's throats. Like animals we fought, 
 
156 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 tugging, straining, rending. All my wild passions 
 were let loose — the veneer of civilisation gone. 
 Revenge now I would have for the death of Muiris. 
 Aye, bitter, bitter revenge. And for that poor girl 
 who lay within that room. Recklessly, blindly I 
 fought, putting forth all my strength to break down 
 the resistance of this frothing fiend. His squat body 
 held bull-like strength; but I would wear it down, 
 worry him, crush the life out of him. Oh, what a 
 merciless, ravening savage a man can become I 
 
 Suddenly I felt him yield a little. I gave utterance 
 to a wild, cruel laugh. I was wearing him down. 
 The fight was in my hands. Gradually I felt him 
 weaken, heard his breath grow more laboured. Then 
 with an effort which caused my muscles to crack as if 
 the strain were too much for them, caused my breath 
 to come in a sobbing gasp from my labouring chest, 
 caused the veins to stand out on my forehead like 
 whipcord, I raised him in my arms and cast him 
 against the wall. With a sickening crash he fell to 
 the floor and lay still ; and I, spent, exhausted by this 
 final effort, reeled backward against the table. 
 
 A feeble moan recalled me to myself. It came from 
 Aimee Neffer. I rushed to the bedside, starting back 
 in horror as my eyes fell on the blood w^hich saturated 
 it. My soul cried out in anguish. Muiris first, now 
 this gentle, innocent girl. I threw myself on my 
 knees by the bedside, and soldier as I was, inured to 
 scenes of blood and sadness, my frame shook with 
 wild, terrible sobs. What had I done that I should 
 cause all this? God of Heaven, was I accursed? 
 
 I felt a hand caressing my bowed head, and 
 heard a soft voice whisper, oh ! so lowly in my 
 ear : 
 
 *' Mon ami, why do you weep? 'Tis not meet that 
 a soldier should. Tears are only for women. Look 
 up, Piaras. I may call you Piaras now." 
 
 I raised my anguished countenance and looked into 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Tis I who have brought you to this," I cried with 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 157 
 
 fierce self-accusation. ** Had you not aided me you 
 would not be here." 
 
 *' Ah, how glad I am ! " she said, a happy smile 
 lighting up her beautiful face. " How happy that 
 my debt is paid. How I prayed that I might yet aid 
 the man who had aided me in my distress, who had 
 rescued me from the hand of an enemy. If my life 
 has been the forfeit, what matters it? The God of 
 Mercy granted my prayer. The rest is nothing." 
 
 What a noble, generous woman she was, this dark- 
 haired Vaudois maid ! All the doubts and suspicions 
 I had felt rose up before my mind accusing me. How 
 unworthy, how ignoble they all appeared now I I rose 
 to my feet. 
 
 '* Aimee," I cried hoarsely, '* I have been blind, 
 ungenerous. I have stabbed you with my vile sus- 
 picions. Yonder at Le Coq Dore I believed you 
 capable of betrayal. I did not know. Can you for- 
 give me my wretched doubtings? " 
 
 She looked at me with shining eyes. 
 
 "I have already forgiven you," she said. ** Ah, 
 Piaras, what will not we women forgive to those we 
 love? For I have loved you, Piaras. May I not 
 confess it now, in these last few moments of my life? 
 Were it otherwise I would bury my love in my heart, 
 and let you go your way unknowing. Have you any 
 love in your heart for poor m^e? " 
 
 Love I I had not thought of it. My mind, filled 
 with other affairs, had not had room for more gentle 
 thoughts. Ah yes I On the mountains above I had 
 kissed her, taken her in my arms, but it was not the 
 feeling which animates a lover which had caused my 
 action. Rather was it the action of a man carried 
 away by a wave of gratitude for one who had risked 
 much for his sake. But now looking at her lying 
 there, listening to her gentle pleading, I felt that I 
 could have loved her, felt that I could have repaid her 
 by my devotion. 
 
 She was looking at me as if her eyes would pierce 
 my very soul. 
 
158 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 ** Ah, I know, Piaras," she whispered. " Perhaps 
 I have asked much. Love comes not at our bidding.'* 
 
 I stooped my head and pressed my lips to hers. 
 Deception, you say. Perhaps! Perhaps! And even 
 if it were, can you not forgive the gentle crime? 
 Would you do less ? Would you shrink from making 
 the last few minutes of one who had lost all for you 
 less lonely by the medium of a kiss ? If you would, 
 Piaras Gras can say no more. I can only take on my 
 shoulders the guilt of the gentle crime, feeling that 
 its punishment will be outweighed by the sweetness 
 and consolation which it brought to his poor friend, 
 dying there so far away from home or kindred. 
 
 A step behind me caused me to look round. The 
 shepherd Gaspard had staggered into the room, his 
 face white and haggard. He stood transfixed with 
 horror as he beheld his young mistress. Then in a 
 voice in which grief and rage struggled for the mastery 
 he demanded who had done this thing. But she 
 motioned him to her side. Tears coursed down his 
 rugged cheeks as she took his hand within her own. 
 
 " Poor Gaspard," she whispered. " I am going 
 from you. You will go to my father when I am gone. 
 You will tell him all, and bring him here that he may 
 bring me back to the old home. You will do that, 
 Gaspard? " 
 
 The poor fellow could not speak, but he raised 
 up her hands and covered them with kisses. She 
 motioned towards me. 
 
 *' Promise me, Gaspard, that you w^ill do everything 
 he asks." 
 
 He bowed his head in silent assent, and staggering 
 away covered his face with his hands and groaned 
 aloud. 
 
 " Piaras, Piaras," she whispered suddenly, " raise 
 me up. The time is here. Tliere is but a few minutes 
 more." 
 
 L raised her in my arms. I heard her give a little 
 sigh of contentment as she laid her head against my 
 shoulder. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 159 
 
 "Ah, Piaras," she whispered, "how happy you 
 have made me. ... At last the debt is paid." 
 
 Her voice sank lower and lower. I heard her 
 murmured prayer: " Lord, have mercy on my soul." 
 For a few seconds she was silent. Then again I heard 
 her whisper : 
 
 " Piaras, a kiss — the last." 
 
 My lips met hers in one long, last kiss. Her dark 
 head sank on my shoulder. A sigh, and the soul of 
 gentle Aimee Neffer had gone across the border. 
 Gently I laid her back on the bed. Her poor lips 
 seemed yet to smile. Yes, I thought sadly, she had 
 died happy. 
 
 I turned away from the bedside. Gaspard was still 
 there, his head bent down. His back was towards 
 me. I touched him on the shoulder. He started 
 round at my touch, and seizing my arm in a grip of 
 iron, demanded hoarsely: 
 
 "Who has done this thing? Oh, tell me, tell 
 me, that I may drive my knife through his black 
 heart." 
 
 "He lies without," I said. "The Sieur de la 
 Gen^vre." 
 
 " Oh, let me to him," he shouted violently, and 
 rushed from the room ere I had time to prevent him. 
 I dashed after him. He had flung himself on the 
 Sieur, who still lay insensible where he had fallen. In 
 his hand, upraised to strike, gleamed his long knife. 
 
 I seized his arm. 
 
 "Gaspard," I cried, "this man is my prisoner. 
 Remember the command of your dead mistress." 
 
 " Diable! " he cried, struggling furiously. " This 
 dog must not live." 
 
 " His life is mine," I said. "Your mistress shall 
 be avenged." 
 
 "Oh, my poor mistress! How bitter shall be the 
 news!" he cried, bursting into a passion of tears. 
 
 When it had passed, he told me how the Sieur, 
 accompanied by two followers, had crept on him. 
 How he had shot one, and crushed in the skull of the 
 
.i6o A SWORDSMAN 
 
 other by a blow of his musket-butt, only to fall before 
 the Sieur. 
 
 We bound the limbs of the still unconscious wretch 
 tightly together, and then I bade Gaspard go to seek 
 the father of Aimee, telling him that I would watch 
 till his coming. 'Twas a long and lonely vigil there 
 in that silent cottage by the body of the maiden who 
 had loved me — the saddest I have known. Her mur- 
 derer had long recovered his senses, and addressed 
 bitter taunts to me, flung vile insults at the pure, 
 unsullied fame of his victim. No expression of regret 
 passed his lips, only the foul mouthings of a fiend. 
 But I pushed a cruel gag into his mouth and thus 
 stopped the slanders of that evil tongue. 
 
 The moon had long risen over the peaks of the 
 mountains, and still Gaspard had not come. Out in 
 the pale moonlight I waited. A slight noise caused 
 me to turn. Before me I saw the figure of the Sieur. 
 In some manner he had managed lo free himself and 
 was fleeing towards safety. With a shout of rage I 
 dashed after the flying wretch. Was this devil going 
 to escape me now? His taunting laugh came back to 
 me as I raced along. He ran with the speed of a deer, 
 and I feared that he was escaping me. On the brink 
 almost of a tall cliff he stopped and looked back, 
 laughing derisively. 
 
 " I have cheated you, monsieur T^spion," he 
 shouted. "Who wins now?" 
 
 I gnashed my teeth in my rage, but a sharp report 
 cut through the stillness of the night. I saw the Sieur 
 throw up his arms and stagger forward. And then 
 a small body of armed men advanced into view. 
 Gaspard rushed towards me. 
 
 " Ah, monsieur," he cried, his voice ringing with 
 fierce joy, ''old Gaspard's bullet has avenged his 
 mistress after all." 
 
 The Sieur was dead; my mission ended. But at 
 what a cost ? How much happier I had been had I 
 never heard of him. Alas, how powerless we poor 
 mortals are before the stern decrees of Fate I 
 
OF THE BRIGADE i6i 
 
 To the stern, black-bearded man, the brave moun- 
 tain chief who had so nobly struggled amongst his 
 mountain fastnesses in defence of his cause, I told the 
 whole story. He listened in silence, gazing down 
 sadly into the white, beautiful face of his daughter. 
 He shed no tears, but I knew that his father's heart 
 was wrung with anguish. When I had done, 
 
 " Monsieur," he cried, '' my sword has been often 
 drawn against the French power. In the passes where 
 I rule the name of Frenchman is hated. But I 
 offer you my hand. Take it. It is a tribute to my 
 daughter's friendship and love. Across her dead 
 body we can forget the enmities which divide us.'* 
 His voice shook. *' Pray God that we may never meet 
 in anger for my daughter's sake." 
 
 I gave him my hand. For a long time we stood 
 there, the Franco-Irish officer and the Vaudois chief. 
 By all the ethics of politics we were enemies, but we 
 stood clasped hand in hand, drawn together by the 
 friendship, the love, the sacrifice of a girl. I heard 
 the strong, stern man groan : 
 
 ** Oh, Aimee, Aim^e, ma petite, you have gone 
 from me, and I am alone." 
 
 Stooping he kissed the cold, pale lips. Then he 
 became the iron soldier. In stern tones which told 
 naught of the agony which gnawed at his heart, he 
 ordered his men to prepare a bier to bear away their 
 mistress. 
 
 In a few minutes all was ready. I walked behind 
 the rough bier beside the lonely man for a few miles. 
 Then I whispered to him that I should go. Henri 
 Neffer turned to me. 
 
 ** Monsieur," he said, *Met us clasp hands once 
 more. Death has made us friends. She who lies 
 there was not mistaken. In you she had found her 
 ideal. I thank you, noble Irishman, for your conduct. 
 We may not meet again, but I shall never forgfet. 
 Adieu." 
 
 I wrung his hand in silence. Ah, how little I had 
 done I We never met again. After that night of 
 
 L 
 
i62 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 sorrow, Henri Neffer passed out of my life. Bare- 
 headed I watched the sad company till the peaks 
 had closed round them and hid them from my view. 
 Then, sad and heavy-hearted, I turned my face 
 towards Ivrea. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AGAIN AT IVREA 
 
 The morning reveille was sounding shrilly through 
 the camp as I, weary and footsore, made my way 
 towards the quarters of the Due de Vendome. I had 
 conquered, won back my former place, but I felt little 
 of the elation which conquerors feel. As I thought 
 of those two poor friends who had lost their lives, I 
 felt that my victory had been won at too great a cost. 
 A Dhia ! could I call a victory that which had reft me 
 of two such friends! 
 
 I had not long to wait. In a few minutes I heard 
 the measured step of the man who had sent me forth, 
 and then he stood before me. Saluting I waited for 
 him to speak. 
 
 **Ah, M. de Gras," he cried, "you have come 
 back! I had thought that you had failed." 
 
 " Would to God I had," I cried out bitterly. ** Ah, 
 why, Milord Mar^chal, did you select me for the 
 task?" 
 
 He looked at me coldly, searchingly. Perhaps 
 something in my face conveyed some idea to him of 
 what I had gone through. 
 
 ** It was not I who selected you for the task," he 
 said at last. ** It was you yourself, monsieur, who 
 undertook it."- 
 
 " Aye, you are right," I cried. ** 'Twas I who 
 undertook it. But, milord, had I foreseen the conse- 
 quences, had I known of the two dear lives which 
 would have gone out that I might live, how gladly I 
 
 163 
 
i64 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 would have faced your platoon. Alas, milord, how 
 well you have revenged yourself." 
 
 He frowned. 
 
 " Diable ! " he cried, " I am not wont to be spoken 
 to thus. But you are a brave man. I can forgive 
 much to bravery. I will forget what you have 
 said." 
 
 "Milord," I cried, "would to God that I could 
 forget those two true friends whose lives have paid for 
 mine. How hollow it is to speak of success I For I 
 have succeeded. The Sieur de la Gen^vre will trouble 
 you no more. Above in the mountains he lies. But, 
 milord, my heart is sad. It weeps over the graves 
 of my friends." 
 
 " Of whom do you speak? " he inquired. 
 
 "Of Muiris OBriain who accompanied me, and 
 of one other, a gentle mountain girl. Do you blame 
 me then when I say that it would have been better had 
 I faced your platoon, that you have well avenged the 
 death of your friend, accident though it was? " 
 
 For some time the Duke was silent. He seemed 
 to commune with the past, for his eyes held a far- 
 away look. At last he said : 
 
 " I understand now. But think you I had no love 
 for that friend to whom your sword gave death ? 
 Monsieur de Gras, I have also had my friendships. 
 Few they were, for I have few true friends. If you 
 mourn your friends whom you loved, do I not mourn 
 also. But enough. This O Briain of whom you 
 speak. Where does he lie?" 
 
 " Far up the mountain by La Gorge," I replied. 
 
 " You can guide a party to the place ? " he queried. 
 
 I nodded silently. 
 
 "It is not right that a French officer should sleep 
 so far from camp. I will send for him. Now go. 
 We will speak of this matter further. But remember, 
 M. le Lieutenant, if you have your memories, I have 
 them also." 
 
 He spoke kindly. Saluting, I turned away. I too 
 had come to understand. I had seen only in my 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 165 
 
 commander the rou^, gamester, shallow-hearted 
 courtier. He had revealed himself to me as a man 
 who could feel deep friendships, who could under- 
 stand the bitterness of another, a man who could 
 honour the bravery of a poor soldier. I could not 
 bring myself to hate him. His kindly action regard- 
 ing O Briain went far to rehabilitate him in my 
 eyes. A man who could act thus could not be all 
 bad. And I had thought him bad to the core. How 
 we misjudge each other I 
 
 *Twas several hours later when I, at the head of a 
 strong party of Dillon's, set out on the sad errand up 
 the mountains. We found him peacefully sleeping 
 where I had piled his earn. As we looked on the 
 cold features I saw the tears course down the cheeks 
 of many a war-hardened veteran who had charged 
 behind him in the red blaze of battle. And then the 
 march down the silent mountain passes, the rays of 
 the moon lighting up our way. 
 
 We hollowed out for him a narrow grave, and laid 
 him to his final rest as the dawn broke. The Duke 
 stood beside that lowly grave where the humble 
 soldier slept. I did not wonder now how he had 
 gained the love of his soldiers. As I listened to the 
 crashing volley which knelled my comrade's last 
 requiem, I thought how full of sorrow and bitterness 
 had been his life. Far from the land of his birth he 
 slept his soldier-sleep. Sleep on ! Sleep on, gallant 
 Muiris I May your rest be unbroken in that Italian 
 land, old friend ! 
 
 For some days I heard nothing more from the 
 Duke. With a peculiar delicacy he left me to myself 
 till the edge of my grief should have blunted itself a 
 little. Then one day an aide summoned me to his 
 quarters again. He received me with marked kind- 
 ness, and informed me that I was reinstated in my 
 former rank. He had received information of the 
 discovery of the Sieur's body, whose successor had 
 sent in his submission to him. I smiled bitterly as I 
 listened, but made no remark. And then he asked : 
 
i66 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 *' You spoke of a girl the other day, M. le 
 Lieutenant. May I inquire who she was?" 
 
 "Mademoiselle Aim^e Neffer," I replied. ''The 
 girl whom I rescued from the Chevalier's house, and 
 about whom we fought. She to whom I owe my 
 miserable life. The purest, bravest girl I have ever 
 met, whose memory is to me as mine own honour. 
 But, Milord Mar^chal, we will not speak further of 
 her." 
 
 He bowed. 
 
 " I will respect your wish, M. le Lieutenant," he 
 said. And I gripped the hand stretched out to me. 
 
 " Have you any request to make? " he asked. 
 
 "No, Milord Mar^chal, save that we may forget.'* 
 
 And then I left him. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 DESPONDENCY— SHELDON'S AGAIN— THE CALL TO 
 IRELAND 
 
 IvREA at length yielded to our arms. The town and 
 citadel once more resounded to the tramp of the 
 victorious French. Due Vendome had added fresh 
 lustre to his name, to which he still further added by 
 the capture of Verrua in the following year. I was 
 still with his staff. My heart still cried out for my 
 old squadron which was now attached to the Army 
 of Flanders, but I was too proud to ask any favour 
 from the man who had wounded me so deeply. 
 Besides, I had grown quite indifferent as to success in 
 my profession. I had lost enthusiasm. The shadow 
 of the unfortunate events with which I had been 
 connected still hung over me. I went on in a dull, 
 routine way, performing such duties as fell in my 
 way well, but with little of that fiery zeal which counts 
 for so much in the soldier's trade. I almost felt tired 
 of life. The urgings of ambition troubled me not at 
 all. I had become dour, silent, with no wish to push 
 on. It is a dangerous state to fall into, but how 
 many of us experience the like after the death of a 
 loved friend, the failure of some great project. Even 
 so we live on because our nature urges us to do so. 
 We conquer and thrust aside our black thoughts. 
 So it was with me. 
 
 Gradually the remembrance of these events faded. 
 The memory of these two loyal friends who had stood 
 beside me in danger's hour became — no, not effaced, 
 
 167 
 
i68 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 they could never be that — but softened. They would 
 be always to me precious memories, but not to darken, 
 not to force me to despair, only to urge me on to 
 nobler, better things. From their graves they 
 seemed to beckon to me, to whisper in my ear : 
 Piaras, look upwards. Live not in the past. The 
 future lies before you. We have been your friends 
 in danger. You owe it to us that you strive onwards, 
 upwards. 
 
 Thus spake the gentle Vaudois maid and the poor 
 soldier from out the past, and I listened, gave ear to 
 their urgings. My black, sullen moods left me. I 
 became once more a man, with all a man's glorious 
 ambitions. Do you blame me, my friends? Have 
 you never felt such blessed urgings? Has no loved 
 voice rang in your ear during the silent watches of 
 the night telling you to lift yourself from the abyss of 
 some great sorrow. If not you will turn from my 
 pleading in disgust, you will condemn me as heart- 
 less, ungrateful. But should it be that you have 
 heard such voices, such urgings, then, my friends, 
 you will understand and sympathise. Be assured, 
 however, that man must not live always sunk in the 
 slough of despond. 
 
 *Twas some time after the surrender of Verrua that 
 the Duke said to me one day : 
 
 " M. de Grds, you have now been serving with 
 my staff for many months past. I have decided to 
 transfer you back to your former regiment." 
 
 I could hardly believe my ears. To have the 
 chance of rejoining my old comrades. I could have 
 thrown up my cap with joy, but that would have 
 been a very unsoldierly proceeding before the 
 Mardchal Due de Vendome. I contented myself with 
 silence. He looked at me keenly. 
 
 ** Eh bien, M. le Lieutenant, you are silent,'* he 
 said. *' Is it that you wish to remain here? " 
 
 *' Milord Mar6chal," I cried, "Sheldon's is my 
 regiment. My career commenced in it. In its ranks 
 I wish to continue." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 169 
 
 He smiled at my eagerness. 
 
 "Eh, I thought so," he remarked. "I have 
 watched you for some time past. I do not think you 
 would be successful here. I would be glad to retain 
 you, but since it is your desire to go I will dismiss 
 you. I have naught to say against a soldier's desire 
 to rejoin his old squadron. Moreover, it is the desire 
 of Monsieur de Nugent that his squadrons be up to 
 full strength. I have written to him informing him, 
 mentioning your service here, and suggesting that 
 you be promoted to a captaincy. 'Tis the least I can 
 do, for I feel that I have done you much injury. And 
 I owe it to you to say that I have convinced myself 
 that in that old affair with the Chevalier de Frobin, 
 you were blameless." 
 
 I could hardly speak from astonishment. I would 
 have been more than pleased to receive my transfer, 
 but to be recommended for promotion, and by the 
 Duke. I do not know how I stumbled through my 
 thanks. And then to hear him apologising to me, 
 the poor lieutenant, he, the proud Louis Joseph, 
 Mar^chal Due de Vend6me. Time : ah, what an 
 avenger it is I But it could not rouse up those 
 sleeping ones from their quiet graves. 
 
 Before I quitted Italy I rode away to that lonely 
 spot beside Ivrea where rested the ashes of poor 
 Muiris O Briain. 
 
 " Muiris," I cried, as I knelt beside the little 
 mound, " I am going far away from this Italian land, 
 but I shall not forget you wherever my wandering 
 steps may stray. Farewell. Farewell, old comrade." 
 
 Turning I mounted my horse and spurred away, 
 and as I rode I thought of that other grave some- 
 where amidst the hills. She had loved me with all 
 
 her pure heart. And I Well, perhaps it was 
 
 better so. 
 
 A few weeks found me back with my old comrades. 
 They welcomed me as one from the grave. Alas I 
 many gallant cavaliers I had known were absent from 
 the muster. They had paid the last great penalty, 
 
170 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 for our brigadiers recked litde of death. With our 
 dashing squadrons I charged on that disastrous 
 Whit Sunday across the plains by Ramillies village, 
 when owing to the imbecility and stubbornness of the 
 Mar^chal l3uc de Villeroi, our army was forced to 
 ignominious flight before the allied forces of the Duke 
 of Marlborough. Beside us on that unfortunate day 
 fought our countrymen of Clare's Infantry Regiment. 
 In the house of the Irish Benedictine nuns at Ypres 
 hang the two colours which they snatched from 
 their hereditary enemies. With them we shared the 
 glories which brave men may gain even when incom- 
 petence nullifies their efforts. Like them we suffered 
 fearful losses. So great were they that for months 
 after that day our squadrons were unfit to take the 
 field. 
 
 I had little thought that our losses would effect my 
 future. But who can read that hidden time? One 
 day our colonel sent for me to the house in which I 
 was billeted in Brussels. I found him with several 
 other Brigade officers. Bluntly he came to the point, 
 for Christopher Nugent was a man of few words. 
 
 ** Captain Grds," he said, " you know how heavily 
 our regiments have suffered. We have been discuss- 
 ing the best means of filling up our ranks. We 
 consider that it is necessary to recruit from Ireland. 
 It is a service of much danger, one requiring caution 
 and secrecy. Failure will mean death for the man 
 engaged in it. I have thought of you for the duty. 
 Consider well before you answer, and if you shrink 
 from the task, we will not consider you less brave.*' 
 
 It did not take me long to decide. Too well I 
 knew the difficulties and dangers which would 
 surround my work. Even so I would give much to 
 see again the brave old land which called to me across 
 the waters. Raising my head, I replied briefly ; 
 
 " I have decided, mon colonel." 
 
 "And what is your decision?" asked Nugent. I 
 could see that the others had craned forward in their 
 eagerness. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 171 
 
 " I will go," I replied. 
 
 ** Maith an fear I " came the cries from the others, 
 but Nugent simply said : " I knew you for a brave 
 m.an, Gras." 
 
 ''When do I start?" I asked. 
 
 " In a couple of weeks you sail from Dunkerque," 
 said the Colonel. "Your work must be done as 
 circumstances will dictate. But be careful and watch- 
 ful. Remember what your success means to the 
 Brigade." 
 
 •' I will remember," I replied, and, saluting, 
 hurried away, followed by the encouraging cries of 
 my chiefs. I held my head high as I trod the old 
 streets. Above me the sky was blue and cloudless. 
 Around me the breezes seemed to chant a pasan of 
 joy. At last I At last ! dear homeland, I am to see 
 you again, even though it be as an outlaw, a stranger 
 amongst my people I 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 IN DUBLIN — A GENTLEMAN OF LEISURE 
 
 ** Help I Help I kind sir." 
 
 The words, uttered in a woman's voice, from which 
 terror could not banish its sweetness, fell on my ear. 
 I had been strolling along the High Street on my 
 way to Tom's Coffee House, which stood hard by the 
 Castle. 
 
 Quickly I swung round on my heel. For several 
 seconds I could perceive nothing in the darkness, and 
 then in the murky light cast by a smoky oil-lamp I 
 caught a glimpse of several struggling figures beside 
 a sedan-chair. With a shout of warning I dashed 
 forward, drawing my sword as I ran. But there was 
 no cause to use it. On hearing my cry, three or four 
 figures disengaged themselves from the struggling 
 mass and disappeared down the dark opening of a 
 laneway. 
 
 Sword in hand, I hastened forward and stood bow- 
 ing to the occupant of the chair, whose progress had 
 been so rudely interrupted. 
 
 *' Madame," I said, inquiringly, " I pray me that 
 you have not been hurt." 
 
 "Ah, sir, what might not have befallen but for 
 your kind assistance." The voice was sweet and 
 tremulous, but in the semi-darkness I could not make 
 out the face of the speaker. "The streets are so 
 unsafe at night. We risk much by venturing forth. 
 Had you not been near! " And she stopped as if in 
 terror at the thought. 
 
 172 
 
A SWORDSMAN i73 
 
 '* Madame," I hastened to reply, " the darkness 
 and unsafeness of the streets have done me an 
 unwitting service in bringing me to your aid. And, 
 may I say, you would add much to my pleasure should 
 you deign to accept my escort to your home." 
 
 " Sir, you would add to my sense of gratitude and 
 obligation." She paused. Mayhap she was con- 
 fused by her own boldness. 
 
 But with my hat sweeping the ground in an 
 elaborate bow, I turned to the bearers and bade them 
 proceed on their journey. The pair of stout fellows, 
 who though roughly enough handled by the footpads, 
 had received little more than a few scratches, set off 
 down the High Street. 
 
 I fell in beside the chair. I had no desire to press 
 my attentions on its occupant, and so strode along in 
 silence. But we had not proceeded far ere she called 
 me to her side, and engaged me in conversation. I 
 learned that she had been to a concert in the Tailors' 
 Hall, and on emerging into High Street had been 
 set on by four ruffians, whom my opportune arrival 
 had put to flight. One of them had even tried to 
 drag her from her seat. 
 
 What with footpads, beggars and bands of royster- 
 ing young bucks, the streets of the good city of 
 Dublin were unpleasant enough in the sixth year 
 of the reign of that august lady. Queen Anne of 
 England. 
 
 Beneath swinging signs and smoky oil-lamps, 
 through the Winetavern Street, with its wide-open 
 wine-shops and coffee-houses, we wended our way, 
 lighted by the flaring flambeau borne in the hands 
 of a runner, who went ahead, past the Marshalsea on 
 Merchant's Quay, our ears filled with the supplica- 
 tions of its unfortunate inmates, and on to Usher's 
 Quay, where we halted. And here I assisted the fair 
 unknown from her chair, and as I stood aside bowing 
 low, she placed her hand on my arm, and with grace- 
 ful words thanked me for my gallant conduct, express- 
 ing the hope that we might meet again. Then, 
 
174 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 giving me her hand to kiss, she tripped Hghtly up the 
 steps of the tall mansion before which we had stopped, 
 and with a farewell smile disappeared within its 
 portals. 
 
 How beautiful she was ! How daintily she carried 
 herself, with an artless grace which impressed itself 
 on my mind. I who was so unused to the society of 
 her gracious sex ; whose life had been spent in the 
 rudeness of camp life and amid the panoply of war; 
 what would I not give for another glimpse of this 
 fair girl who had so unexpectedly crossed my path? 
 With a sigh, I turned away and resumed my way to 
 the Coffee House, whither I was going when her cry 
 for help fell on my ears. 
 
 But as I thought of what I was, a bitter laugh 
 broke from me. What right had I, Piaras Grds, the 
 emissary of a foreign Power, to indulge in thoughts 
 of such as she, in all probability the daughter of some 
 adherent of the Ascendancy? I, an outlaw, in my 
 own land, engaged in a hazardous enterprise, which 
 brought my neck within reach of the halter every 
 day. Whose days were spent in perpetual warfare 
 against the existing powers ; whose nights were 
 passed in the company of men who would gladly 
 have placed me for tender keeping between the paws 
 of the " Black Dog," from whence my progress to 
 the execution place would be speedy and certain. 
 Fool ! fool ! to allow myself to be carried away by the 
 pretty face and winsome air of one who would, doubt- 
 less, willingly assist her father, or brothers, or 
 acquaintances, in laying by the heels the pestilent 
 wretch who dared to defy the Powers by law estab- 
 lished, and glory in the deed. What though she were 
 fair to look upon ? Was it likely that she was any 
 better than those other intriguers and butterflies of 
 fashion who fluttered their way through the city's 
 ballrooms? With a shrug of my shoulders, I dis^ 
 missed the subject from my mind. 
 
 As I strode along, the bustle and activity of the 
 civic life around me absorbed my attention. Anon, 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 175 
 
 I jostled in the darkness up against some pedestrian 
 hurrying on his way. Again my ears were saluted 
 by the shrill *' Make way ! make way I " of the sedan- 
 carriers bearing some fair citizenness to home or 
 meeting-place. Redly flaming flambeaux passed 
 hither and thither, while rumbling vehicles jolted 
 along the stony streets. At last, I turned into the 
 Castle Street, and was soon engaged in a dicing game 
 with one of the military officers who frequented Tom's 
 noted Coffee House. 
 
 Sitting there in the midst of these men, coolly 
 ratding my dice-box, who would imagine that my 
 days were passed in such devious ways ? With what 
 a shout of joy these officers and burly citizens would 
 have thrown themselves on me had some voice 
 suddenly called out: ** Behold! a spy of the French 
 King is amongst you." How eagerly they would 
 have laid hands on me! 
 
 But who would have suspected that the respectable 
 Ebenezer Swetenhall, gentleman of leisure, who had 
 served in Her Majesty's Armies, had ever been guilty 
 of such nefarious practices — had ever been other than 
 a loyal subject of the reigning dynasty? He, an 
 upholder of the glorious Revolution — who would have 
 dared to whisper a word of suspicion? Who dared 
 to doubt him ? 
 
 As I played my ears were constantly open to the 
 stories related by the habitues of the place. Now it 
 was some delectable piece of social gossip, again 
 some item dealing with the movement of the Preten- 
 der's adherents, culled from the pages of ** Pue's 
 Occurrences." But be the item what it might, my 
 sang-froid never deserted me. My laugh mingled 
 with theirs. My glass was drained to the perpetuation 
 of the new dynasty and the confusion of the Jacobites, 
 all the while that I rattled my dice or raked in the 
 stakes of my opponent for the nonce, the gallant 
 Captain Wildair of the Queen's Dragoons. 
 
 But the echo of a soft voice rang in my ears above 
 the varied sounds of the coffee-room ; the vision of 
 
176 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 a fair face came between me and my red-faced 
 opponent. Unable to content myself, I finally threw 
 down my box, and bidding the captain good night, 
 walked home to my lodgings in the Corn Market. 
 Soon after I was slumbering soundly and seeing 
 again in my dreams the face of the fair unknown. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A WHISPER FROM THE PAST 
 
 I HAD been in Dublin for several weeks past, com- 
 missioned by my chiefs to raise recruits to fill up the 
 gaps left in the ranks of our bold Brigade by constant 
 campaigning. With money in plenty, I had taken 
 up my abode in the Corn Market — a bold, roystering 
 gentleman, who had seen much service on the 
 Continent, who was prepared to pass a bottle or turn 
 a jest with the gayest, or lose his money at the gaming 
 table without turning a hair. It served my purpose 
 to comport myself like the bucks who plumed them- 
 selves and strutted round the inns and taverns of the 
 city. Captain Swetenhall, late of Her Majesty's 
 Army, was hail, fellow! well met, with all of them, 
 and would not be suspected of designs subversive of 
 the Government of the realm. And so I was a well- 
 known figure at the different taverns, and at the malls, 
 where fashionable society disported itself. With such 
 recommendations, I had soon secured the entree into 
 the houses of the best society of the metropolis. 
 
 All the while I went amongst the people, doing the 
 work which had brought me hither. Many a piece 
 of good silver passed from my hand into the palm of 
 some youngster, who burned to shoulder a musket in 
 the ranks of the Brigade. Oh, it was a merry game, 
 to which the danger added zest. 
 
 So from day to day the work went on. Picking 
 up recruits when and how I could; consorting with 
 
 177 M 
 
J7S A SWORDSMAN 
 
 men whose very existence was, in the eyes of the 
 law, a crime; rubbing shoulders with the wealth and 
 fashion of the city. Secretly an opposer of the law; 
 openly its most blatant defender. 
 
 But never after that adventure in the High Street 
 did I catch a glimpse of her whose face haunted me. 
 I had fought stubbornly against these constantly 
 recurring thoughts, had endeavoured to efface her 
 image from my mind, but the struggle was vain. 
 Again and again I had told myself that it was mad- 
 ness that I, who carried my life in my hands, should 
 dream such dreams. But the fires smouldered on, 
 ready to burst into flame when the first breeze should 
 fan them. Many a time I strayed almost uncon- 
 sciously past the stately house on Usher's Quay, but 
 never a sight rewarded me. 
 
 And then, when I had almost flattered myself into 
 the belief that I had conquered my foolishness, I 
 again met her. It was one evening, as I strolled on 
 the Mall, arm in arm with two other officers of the 
 garrison, who had taken me under their tutelage, 
 that a sedan-chair stopped, and a lady, young and 
 beautiful, descended from it. We were just passing 
 by at the time, and, whether by accident or design, 
 she dropped her fan. Stepping quickly forward, I 
 picked it up, and returned it to her. As my eyes 
 rested for an instant on her face the knowledge came 
 to me that I had found my fair unknown. 
 
 She thanked me gracefully, excusing herself for 
 her gaucherie, and was turning away, when suddenly 
 she stopped and looking straight at me inquired if 
 we had not met before. 
 
 *' Yes, m,ademoiselle," I replied, ** in the High 
 Street, where I had the honour of doing you a 
 service." 
 
 " Ah, yes," she returned, " I remember now. 
 You are the gallant gentleman who came to my 
 assistance on that dreadful night." . . . And then 
 she added smilingly: ** And I do not even know the 
 name of my preserver." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 179 
 
 ** Captain Ebenezer Swetenhall, very much at your 
 service," I replied, bowing. 
 
 " Ah, Captain, I have heard of you. May I hope 
 to see you at my Lady Brudenel's ball on Thursday 
 evening next? Mary Sickles would like to repay 
 some of her obligation.'* 
 
 Sickles I The name brought the blood rushing to 
 my face. The remembrance of the unfortunate 
 incident of five years before flashed across my mind. 
 Could it be that she had any connection with my old 
 enemy? Ah, surely not! Surely so rare a blossom 
 could not spring from so rough a stem ! The thought 
 was a disquieting one, but I thrust it aside, because 
 I wished to do so. It was five years since that night 
 in Cathair Domhnaill. Let the past lie buried in 
 its ashes. Let me live only in the present. With a 
 glance I assured myself she had not noticed my 
 abstraction. 
 
 ** Possibly, fair mademoiselle," I replied, ** should 
 the Fates be kind." 
 
 Then, raising to my lips the hand which she 
 extended to me, we parted — I to resume my inter- 
 rupted promenade, and be quizzed mercilessly by my 
 companions, to whose questions I returned evasive 
 replies; she to mingle with the merry crowd of Mall 
 players. 
 
 When I returned to my lodgings late that night, 
 I found a little perfumed note awaiting me, contain- 
 ing an invitation to the ball to be held in the house 
 of the Lady Brudenel. 
 
 The stately mansion at Usher's Quay was ablaze 
 with light as I mounted the broad staircase and was 
 greeted by the hostess. Strolling through the rooms 
 costumed quietly in dark blue velvet, braided with 
 silver, I was greeted on all sides. The ^lite of the 
 city were there assembled. The entree to Lady 
 Brudenel's entertainments was much sought after, 
 evidently. Here, a noted churchman chatted ani- 
 matedly with a well-known lawyer; there an 
 
3[8o A SWORDSMAN 
 
 alderman, rotund and well-nourished, was holding 
 forth to an orator, whose well-rounded periods held 
 the senators in awesome admiration what time his 
 voice sounded through the vaulted chambers of the 
 House. From the inner rooms, set apart for the 
 votaries of Dame Fortune, could be heard, by 
 the attentive listener, the sharp rattle of the dice. 
 Scattered here and there were many of the young 
 bucks and dandies of the city, amongst whom 1 
 noticed my friend. Captain Wildair, looking very 
 different now from the red-faced, ungainly cavalry- 
 man with whom I was wont to play. Resplendent 
 now in coat of claret-coloured silk, his dark-green 
 waistcoat braided in gold, he flaunted it with the 
 best. Ladies in stiff brocades and rustling silks 
 hung on the arms of be-laced and be-wigged beaux, 
 as they moved on towards the apartment set apart 
 for dancing. 
 
 I had come alone. I had been much surprised by 
 the receipt of the invitation, for though such a well- 
 known figure about town, I had no previous know- 
 ledge of the lady of the house. Instinctively I 
 connected it with my conversation with the fair 
 Mistress Sickles. Her words were the principal 
 cause of my presence. Ah ! what fools we men are 
 Avhen a pair of sparkling eyes are in question I 
 
 My glance roved over the gay and brilliant throng, 
 but nowhere could I mark her graceful form. I was 
 turning away impatiently when her well-known 
 voice sent a thrill through me : 
 
 ** Will the Captain Swetenhall honour me with his 
 arm while I go and seek my aunt? " 
 
 With a low bow and a murmured ** At your ser- 
 vice, mademoiselle," I offered my arm to my fair 
 questioner, while we made our way through the 
 crowded rooms. Having found her aunt, none other 
 than the hostess of the evening, I conducted her 
 back again to the ballroom, where we were soon 
 treading it through the graceful measures of the 
 minuet. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE i8i 
 
 How my heart thrilled with delight as I gazed on 
 my companion I She was dressed in some light 
 clinging material of a creamy colour, which floated 
 about her in graceful folds, and stood out in bold 
 contrast to the huge panniers and hoops of the other 
 fair dancers. Her glorious auburn hair was dressed 
 rather high over her smooth, white brow, while her 
 soft brown eyes held a dreamy look. As she moved 
 gracefully to the strains of the stately music, I feasted 
 my eyes on her beauty. Surely for such a maid one 
 could willingly surrender all, and think himself well 
 repaid. 
 
 At last the dance was over, and we moved away to 
 a quiet alcove. During the next half-hour I drank 
 in the tones of her sweet voice as she chatted of the 
 men and women of her circle. How I watched her 
 every movement ; her every gesture ! How I watched 
 the sparkle of her eyes and revelled in her sunny 
 smile, as she related some merry anecdote. Sitting 
 there in her presence, all thoughts of my mission were 
 swept aside. I gave myself up to the full enjoyment 
 of the passing hour. I was but as a shadow thrown 
 across her path. A few weeks more and my work 
 in the capital would be ended, and then away to 
 push my task farther afield, and I would have passed 
 out of her life as if I had never been. At the thought 
 I sighed involuntarily. But my mood changed, and 
 I was once again the gay gallant. 
 
 The minutes flew by quickly ; ah I so quickly ; and 
 then she left me to go and assist her aunt in her duties. 
 And I, poor fool, sat going over again in thought 
 the happy minutes which I had spent, alternately 
 hugging to myself this beautiful dream of my 
 imagination ; and then upbraiding myself for allow- 
 ing thoughts of love to come between me and my 
 duty. 
 
 Several times again that night I met her, and each 
 time my admiration and worship grew deeper. And 
 as I made my adieux at the head of the stairs, where 
 a crowd of gallants fluttered round her, and bent over 
 
i82 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 the little hand which lay in mine, I swore to myself 
 that I would always treasure up the memory of her 
 fair face in my innermost thoughts. 
 
 But as I made my way down the crowded stair, I 
 was recalled from my dreamings to the ever-present 
 sense of work as the voice of an exquisite young dandy 
 whispered in my ear: *' To-morrow evening at seven. 
 By the seashore at Bullock. Everything is ready." 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 BY BULLOCK STRAND — A LOYALIST VOLUNTEER 
 
 Riding beneath the pale light of the twinkling stars, 
 my face hidden beneath a velvet mask, I pricked 
 towards the seashore. All had been arranged. In 
 twos and threes the gallant lads who had taken the 
 French silver would have taken their way to the 
 rendezvous where the smuggler awaited them. 
 Sweeping along, the mournful cry of a curlew came 
 to my ears like some voice warning me of danger and 
 disaster. But little I recked of warnings. My plans 
 were well laid. No suspicion lurked in the minds of 
 the dullards who watched over the interests of the 
 State. 
 
 A few seconds and I stood on the pebbly strand, 
 looking out over the heaving waters towards the black 
 shadow which marked the spot where the smuggler 
 lay with all sails set ready to spring forward on her 
 journey to the distant Gallic coast. Beside me was 
 the bluff old captain, watching the embarkation of his 
 living cargo. As the brave fellows took their places 
 in the boat, I wrung their hands in a tight grip. Then 
 with a subdued farewell the muffled oars fell into the 
 rowlocks, and they had taken the final step on the road 
 which so many of their compatriots had travelled 
 before them. Quickly the embarkation was carried 
 through, and then, with a final hand-clasp and a 
 •' Sldn D^ agat," the skipper took his place. 
 
 Alone I stood on the shore watching the boa't mov- 
 ing out across the dancing flood. The moon had 
 
 183 
 
i84 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 risen and now sailed in all her pale glory across a 
 cloudless sky, tipping with silver the wide waste of 
 waters ; burying her shafts in the tiny wavelets which 
 came trooping in at my feet. 
 
 Hardly had the boat quitted the shingly beach, when 
 a loud shout rang out: "Stand, in the Queen's 
 name! " A couple of shots pealed out on the night 
 air, and I heard the trampling of many feet rushing 
 towards me. Their approach had been so silent that 
 they were within fifty yards of me before I could 
 move. But in an instant my pistols were out, and 
 firing at the dark mass of men, I sprang towards 
 my horse, which was quietly standing near by. With 
 a bound I was into the saddle and spurring hard 
 towards safety. As I fled, a scattered volley rang out, 
 but by good fortune I escaped unhurt. 
 
 Making a detour to throw them off the scent I rode 
 rapidly citywards and reached my lodgings as the 
 bells were clanging out the hour of nine. 
 
 ** A narrow shave, that," I mused, and changing 
 my dress, I hurried down to Tom's, where I had 
 arranged to meet my dragoon friend, Wildair, with 
 whom I had made a wager at cards. 
 
 Punctually to the time appointed I was in my seat, 
 dealing my cards lazily. Who amongst all that gay 
 company, looking at my smiling face, listening to my 
 light stories and jests, would have imagined that a 
 short hour before I had been engaged in the damnable 
 work of speeding a company of '' wild geese " on their 
 way, that I had been galloping along the road 
 pursued by the hissing bullets of the soldiers of their 
 royal and sovereign lady, or that with foul and evil 
 intent I had turned my arms against the forces of 
 that gracious ruler. 
 
 So it was that when about two hours afterwards an 
 officer, all mud-bespattered, strode into the coffee- 
 room, I was the first to turn towards him. 
 
 " What's the matter, lieutenant? " I drawled lazily, 
 while I flicked the dust from my lace cravat. I 
 recognised the new-comei as an infantry officer, one 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 185 
 
 Lieutenant Jones, a tall, lanky, red-haired English- 
 man. " You seem to have had rough service." 
 
 "Matter enough," he growled angrily.^ *' A 
 damned traitor sending off recruits to France." 
 
 And then he launched off into a description of the 
 affair. Not a muscle of my face twitched as he told 
 how they had marched to Bullock, where they had 
 information a number of traitors would rendezvous 
 that night. With breathless interest, I listened to him 
 as he drew a lurid picture of the scene by the beach, 
 with the boat rowing away to the sloop lying in the 
 offing. How they had fired at the solitary figure 
 standing on the beach; how he had returned their 
 fire, leaving two of their men badly wounded; and 
 then how this most disloyal wretch had galloped off. 
 My masters, it was glorious standing there in the 
 midst of these men listening to the recital of my own 
 misdeeds. 
 
 When the lieutenant had ceased, as much for want 
 of breath as of further facts, I was among the first to 
 recover from the astonishment created by his recital. 
 
 " r faith, my friends, he was a daring ruffian," I 
 ejaculated. Then, turning to the lieutenant, I in- 
 quired: "Lieutenant, I doubt not you would know 
 that damned ruffian again." 
 
 "Zounds, Captain, you are wrong there," he 
 growled testily. " Though the moon was shining 
 brightly and we could see him clearly enough, his face 
 was covered with a black mask, which hid it com- 
 pletely. He was tall and well built, tall as yourself, 
 Captain," with a laugh, "but that gives us little to 
 work on. There are many such men in Dublin. But," 
 and he swore a mighty oath, " I will yet lay him by 
 the heels, and then a short shrift and an airy dance 
 awaits him," and he laughed loudly at his own 
 pleasantry. 
 
 "Bravo! bravo! lieutenant," I cried. "May we 
 soon see this Jacobite cock between your claws." 
 A sentiment which was greeted with loud shouts and 
 cries of approval. 
 
i86 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 In view of the exciting intelligence, few of us felt 
 any desire for further play. In groups we stood dis- 
 cussing the occurrence. The centre of a group, I 
 examined it in all its aspects, suggesting ways and 
 means which might be adopted for the capture of this 
 wretch who had so daringly entered into the very 
 citadel of authority. I suggested the formation of all 
 those present into a volunteer troop, who would assist 
 the military authorities in patrolling the roads, and 
 keeping a special eye on Bullock. 
 
 "After all, gentlemen," I said, "this is a matter 
 which concerns us all. We ought to be prepared to 
 give our assistance in the matter." 
 
 My suggestion was warmly taken up, and there 
 and then this crov/d of loyal gentlemen offered their 
 services for the furtherance of the project. 
 
 " Now, my friends," I exclaimed, "it is necessary 
 that we name someone as captain. One who is active 
 and resourceful " 
 
 "Who could we find more active or resourceful 
 than yourself," a voice interrupted. " Swetenhall, 
 Swetenhall for captain." 
 
 My name was acclaimed from all sides. With 
 appropriate words I thanked them for this mark of 
 the esteem in w^hich they held me. After some further 
 conversation and w^ith mutual good wishes for the 
 success of our undertaking, we left the Coffee House, 
 and wended our different ways homewards through 
 the dark streets. 
 
 Hardly had I shaken myself free from the crowd 
 of poor dupes than my leisurely walk was changed into 
 a quick stride, which soon brought me to my lodgings. 
 Hurrying to my room, I wrapped a long, black cloak 
 round myself, and slipping a pair of loaded pistols 
 into my pockets, sallied forth once more into the 
 streets. 
 
 A few minutes' walk brought me to Fishamble 
 Street. Plunging into the thick darkness of a narrow 
 archway, I groped my way forward. Knocking 
 cautiously at a door, darkly outlined in the gloom, 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 187 
 
 I waited. After a few minutes it was opened. A 
 whispered word secured me entrance, and then I made 
 my way down a long, narrow passage, into a room 
 lighted by a single candle. At a blazing fire were 
 seated two men smoking. The taller of the pair was 
 none other than the young dandy who had spoken to 
 me on the staircase at the Lady Brudenel's ball. 
 Looking at his easy, good-natured face, with its 
 sleepy blue eyes, and allowing your eyes to travel 
 over his foppish attire, from his Ramilie hat and 
 wig to the fine lace which almost covered his delicate, 
 effeminate hands, you would hardly imagine that 
 Charles Jans was other than a brainless fop. But 
 beneath that easy-going exterior was hidden a reck- 
 less, dare-devil nature, which often stood me in good 
 stead. The other, more soberly dressed, was a promi- 
 nent merchant, Roche by name. 
 
 Throwing myself into a chair, I related the events 
 of the evening. My adventure by Bullock drew forth 
 exclamations of surprise and dismay. But when I 
 related the proceedings which had taken place in 
 Tom's they laughed heartily. 
 
 Both of them were rather inclined to doubt the 
 wisdom of my allowing myself to be named chief of 
 the volunteers. They feared it would expose me to 
 dangers which I would find it hard to combat. But 
 I soon set their fears at rest. 
 
 *' Egad, my friends," I cried, ** nothing better 
 could have happened for us. Ebenezer Swetenhall, 
 the captain of a troop of volunteers, burning with 
 desire for the capture of recruits for foreign service, 
 can move where he lists, can go into all places, will 
 be told everything. His zeal will be his passport. 
 Should he be seen conversing with any of the dis- 
 affected, he seeks information. Should he speak to 
 anyone suspected of smuggling, he is probing for 
 knowledge as to intended flights of ' wild geese.* 
 And so he will be above suspicion. But you, Jans, 
 must take my place at the embarkations. I, the 
 zealous Swetenhall, will be too busily engaged with 
 
i88 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 my gallant troop in hunting you down to take interest 
 in other matters. But we must find some other place 
 for our rendezvous." 
 
 "Gad, you are right, Captain," said Jans, ** that 
 last squeak was too close to be pleasant. What do 
 you say to Howth ? " 
 
 With our heads close together for fear of lurking 
 spies, we discussed the whole matter, and finally 
 decided on Howth. Jans was to take my place at the 
 embarkation, while I, by hints, would draw off 
 attention towards Bullock. When we had settled 
 everything to our satisfaction, after a final toast to 
 our success, drank in good French wine, which 
 Roche drew forth from a cupboard in the corner, I 
 left them ; they to make their way out on to the quays, 
 I to return by the way I had come. As we parted the 
 bells of old Christchurch boomed out the midnight 
 hour. 
 
 As I turned once again into Fishamble Street, I 
 almost ran into the arms of Lieutenant Jones. As I 
 noted his suspicious glance fixed on me, I felt a 
 quiver of apprehension pass over me. What if he 
 should suspect? 
 
 "Hal ha! Captain," he laughed boisterously. 
 ** I thought you were safe in bed long ago. Do you 
 often go to Fishamble Street? " 
 
 "No, lieutenant, not often," I replied. "Some- 
 times I visit a friend of mine." 
 
 " Gad, what an hour for visiting 1 " he exclaimed, 
 with a cunning leer. 
 
 A Dhia, how I hated the fellow I Had it been 
 otherwise, how gladly I would have struck him in the 
 face. But caution must be my guide at present. So 
 I inquired with my most elegant manner ; 
 
 " Lieutenant, is it necessary that I publish the 
 hours at which I choose to visit my friends? " 
 
 " The Captain Swetenhall visits when and where 
 he chooses," and he bowed mockingly. " But the 
 gallant Captain will injure his reputation should he 
 keep such late hours in such dark places.*' ^ 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 189 
 
 I started and looked keenly at him. Was there a 
 hidden meaning conveyed in his words? But his 
 face was impassive, and with a shrug I dismissed the 
 matter. I would let it pass for the present, but 
 later 
 
 ** A truce to this, lieutenant,*' I said. " The night 
 gets colder and I will be going home. Good night." 
 And, with a bow, I passed on my way. 
 
 But could I have seen the malevolent look with 
 which the lieutenant followed me, or heard his 
 muttered : '* The gay Captain visits late and in curious 
 places. We will see; we will see," I would have 
 been rather startled. 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 LOVE IS NOT FOR ME — CHECKMATE TO AN ENEMY 
 
 My mission was drawing to its conclusion. Another 
 day would see its finish, and then the metropolis 
 would know the dashing figure of Captain Ebenezer 
 Swetenhall no more. My recruiting had been com- 
 pletely successful, and the final draft of men would 
 sail from Beann Eadair the next evening. Then, ho ! 
 for the soft breezes and the purple heather of my 
 native south. 
 
 I felt a wonderful feeling of relief that the end was 
 so near at hand. A feeling of uneasiness had begun 
 to take possession of me. Since that untoward 
 meeting with Jones in Fishamble Street, I felt that I 
 was being watched secretly ; that my every movement 
 was dogged, my every action weighed. Shadowy 
 and intangilDle as it all was, I knew that suspicion 
 was being directed against me. But no whisper of it 
 had reached my ear. To all outward appearance my 
 position was as secure as ever, my character as un- 
 blemished. Whenever I met Jones, I felt his beady 
 eyes fixed on me with a suspicious gaze. I was con- 
 vinced that much of the intrigue was being fostered 
 by him, but I could not afford to bring him to book. 
 
 But though I knew all this, it did not cause me to 
 recede a single step from the plan I had mapped out, 
 nor to reduce my recruits by a single man. I would 
 carry through my project in its entirety though every 
 spy in Dublin was at my heels. My recruits were 
 faithful, and no whisper had reached the ears of my 
 enemies. 
 
 190 
 
A SWORDSMAN 191 
 
 So it was in a iiappy frame of mind I dressed for 
 the ball to be given in the house of the Grattans. 
 Would I have the good fortune to meet the fair 
 Mistress Sickles? I asked myself. Since the night 
 at Lady Brudenel's I had not seen her, and was look- 
 ing forward eagerly in the hope that that fickle dame 
 might cast her favours in my way. 
 
 A dandy of the dandies, I made my way through 
 the fashionable throng who were assembled, and 
 soon was the centre of a group of young bucks, who 
 laughed uproariously at my sallies. While the fun 
 waxed apace, I managed to convey a slip of paper 
 into the hand of my fellow-conspirator, Jans, who 
 laughed and jested — the merriest of the crowd. The 
 words it contained were few, but pregnant : '' Every- 
 thing goes well. My gentlemen volunteers will 
 proceed to Bullock to-morrow evening. Howth will 
 be clear for you." Then I tore myself away from 
 the merry fools. As I turned I met the gaze of the 
 red-haired Jones fixed on me. His eyes held an 
 inscrutable look. A voice seemed to whisper: '' Take 
 care, Piaras. The lieutenant watches you like a 
 hawk. Guard yourself well." 
 
 But the thoughts of Jones and his surly looks were 
 soon forgotten in the presence of the gracious girl 
 who occupied such a large place in my thoughts. 
 Wandering aimlessly through the rooms, I saw her 
 surrounded by a circle of cavaliers. She rose at my 
 approach and came towards me, a smile of pleasure 
 lighting up her face. Side by side we wandered away 
 from the sportive throng. Seated beside her I felt 
 myself almost carried away by the passionate love 
 which surged through my veins. I was sorely 
 tempted to pour out the burning words which would 
 put my fate to the test. But honour held me back. 
 Even though I was convinced that her answer would 
 be the fulfilment of all my hopes, what right had I, 
 an adventurer, a soldier engaged in such a dangerous 
 game, to speak of love to her*"? Living a double life, 
 would it be worthy of me to offer her my love ? What 
 
192 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 right had I to entangle her free, joyous existence with 
 my wayward fate ? No ! love was not for me, and 
 I put the temptation from me. But I could not 
 refrain from saying : 
 
 *' Mistress Sickles, to-morrow I depart from your 
 fair city. Duty demands my presence elsewhere. 
 May I say that the remembrance of your kindness to 
 me, an unknown stranger, will be with me always." 
 
 '' It grieves me much to hear you are going from 
 amongst us," she replied earnestly. *' I had hoped 
 that our acquaintance would be of longer duration. 
 I will treasure up in my heart the memory of the 
 inestimable service you did me — will never cease to 
 respect the name of a brave and gallant gentleman." 
 
 She bent her dear head and I could almost have 
 sworn I heard a sob. Unconsciously my hand stole 
 out towards hers, but I drew it back. And then she 
 was herself again, chatting and laughing merrily. 
 
 At last I conducted her back to the ballroom. As 
 we went, I whispered recklessly into her ear : '* Let 
 us enjoy this last dance together," adding to myself : 
 "and to-morrow, forget." 
 
 With laughing eyes, she whispered back : 
 
 ** Be merry while we may. A soldier's phil- 
 osophy, Captain Swetenhall," and then we swept 
 away into the dance. 
 
 But I had other work to do that night. When I 
 had resigned her to the partner who came to claim 
 her hand for the next dance, I made my way to the 
 card-room, where the final act would be done which 
 would ensure the complete success of my project. 
 As I approached, I heard a loud voice raised in 
 angry tones : 
 
 " Gentlemen, I tell you, the Captain is not all he 
 seems. Can any of you tell me who he is? He 
 came amongst us from the devil knows where — says 
 he served on the Continent. Perhaps he did, but 
 was it with our forces? Lately, I have watched him 
 closely, and know that he keeps very strange com- 
 pany and visits in strange places. I notice that he 
 
OF THE BRIGADE i93 
 
 rides often in the direction of Bullock, which has 
 not a very loyal reputation. What if he should be 
 a Jacobite spy? " 
 
 I walked into their midst before they had recovered 
 from the consternation into which they were thrown 
 by his w^ords. Everyone had gathered round the 
 speaker. For the moment cards and dice were 
 forgotten. 
 
 A deep voice broke the silence: "The Captain 
 Swetenhall is a brave and loyal gentleman." All 
 eyes turned in the direction of the person who had 
 spoken, none other than Jans. I stepped forward 
 into the group, who mechanically made way for me. 
 
 " The lieutenant was discussing me," I suggested, 
 with a comprehensive glance round. 
 
 No one replied. None of them seemed willing to 
 take up the matter. 
 
 " Gentlemen, gentlemen," I went on, *' I await 
 your pleasure." 
 
 At last Jones stepped forward. ** I did not think 
 the Captain was within hearing," he said. *' If he 
 has heard words hurtful to his self-esteem, I cannot 
 help it." 
 
 '* The room is public," I replied. '' The lieutenant 
 should not talk so loud." 
 
 Turning to the others, I said: *' INIay I inquire in 
 what particular way my actions interest you, gentle- 
 men ? " My voice was cold as I glanced around. 
 
 " Egad, Captain, we thought you kept strange 
 company — that you ride in the direction of Bullock 
 over much," Jones replied. 
 
 *' Zounds, gentlemen," I asked, ignoring him, *' if 
 it be my pleasure to ride in the direction of Bullock, 
 is there anyone here to say me nay? The sea air is 
 pleasant, the scenery pretty, and there is information 
 to be gained." 
 
 A murmur came from behind. I knew I had 
 gained a point and hastened to drive my advantage 
 home. 
 
 ** My friends," I resumed, *' as I came in the 
 
 N 
 
194 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 words ' Jacobite spy ' seemed to grate on my ear. 
 Perhaps I was mistaken, but the words have an ugly 
 sound. I would be very careful in using them. I 
 have given proofs of my zeal and loyalty sufficient 
 to stand against unsupported assertions and covert 
 suggestions." I looked full at the lieutenant. "My 
 loyalty to the Government of our Most Gracious 
 Sovereign has been unquestioned. Should any 
 gentleman feel hurt by my preference for particular 
 places or particular company, I am pained. If 
 Lieutenant Jones must see a "^Jacobite spy in every 
 honest gentleman who comes amongst you, truly I 
 am sorry. But a truce to this foolishness I If I have 
 ridden often in the direction of Bullock, you, my 
 friends, will ride there to-morrow evening." 
 
 Instantly, these poor fools who had been wavering 
 in their allegiance to me, clustered round, won over 
 by my bold words. As for the lieutenant, non- 
 plussed by the turn of events, he held his peace. 
 The trick had turned to me, but who would call the 
 game ? 
 
 In a few words, I explained how a rumour had 
 reached me of a contemplated sailing from Bullock. 
 The rumour was of the vaguest, but I had thought it 
 best that we should take precautions, and proposed 
 we should ride in that direction. Perhaps we would 
 have the good fortune to lay our hands on some of 
 the rebels. With wild huzzas they greeted my 
 proposition, some of them in their enthusiasm draw- 
 ing their swords and waving them over their heads. 
 Then, turning to Wildair, who was present, I said: 
 
 *' Perhaps, Captain, the military patrol will ride 
 with us? " 
 
 But he replied: ** I am a soldier, and at the com- 
 mand of my chiefs." 
 
 An uncompromising reply. Yet, I knew the spark 
 had taken — that Beann Eadair would be as safe 
 from the unwelcome attentions of military as from 
 volunteers. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 A WILD-GOOSE CHASE — A LITTLE SWORDPLAY 
 
 *TwAS a right merry party which sallied forth from 
 the city on the following evening. The authorities 
 had taken alarm, and a score of troopers, under the 
 command of Wildair, accompanied us. Thus it was 
 that I rode along beside him, engaged in merry con- 
 verse. Along the dark and silent road we swept. 
 Woe to any unfortunate recusant knave who should 
 cross our path. But silence and loneliness prevailed, 
 save only when the shrill, raucous cry of some 
 sea-bird came through the void. 
 
 Within a short distance of the seashore the order 
 was given to dismount, and we crept forward. 
 When we reached the beach no living thing met our 
 gaze. The full moon shone down on a lonely strand 
 and glinted on a placid sea. The wavelets whispered 
 and cooed to each other the endless tale which they 
 have told and re-told since the world began. Our 
 swords would rest idly in their scabbards that night. 
 My ruse was completely successful. 
 
 Turning to my companions, who stood round, 
 disappointment written on all their faces, I remarked: 
 
 ** Egad, gentlemen, our ride has been for nothing. 
 The rats have kept to their holes to-night. I pray 
 you may be more successful on a future occasion." 
 
 Dead silence greeted me. I doubt not their sus- 
 picions were intensified. But a commotion made 
 itself heard in the rear of the troop of dandies and 
 soldiers. With two or three furious istrides, Jones 
 
 195 
 
196 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 launched himself forward, his whole bearing betray- 
 ing the rage he felt. Silently, I waited for his words. 
 *' Begad," he cried, his voice quivering with 
 passion, *' we have been brought on a wild-goose 
 chase. The gallant Captain who rides so often to 
 Bullock has heard some old hag's tale and we must 
 needs follow him here. Or perhaps the tale formed 
 itself in his own imagination. Methinks he knows 
 over much and hears tales which never reach the ears 
 of others. A loyal gentleman, forsooth, one who 
 has given proofs of his loyalty. But I have had eno* 
 of such loyalty." 
 
 I had made no attempt to interrupt him. Turning 
 to the others, I remarked: 
 
 *' Comrades, I crave your pardon for the upturn 
 of this affair. P faith, we might have had better 
 luck. But the lieutenant seems to be angry." 
 
 " Egad, yes," he shouted, thoroughly aroused by 
 my tone. *' Yes, angry about you and your fine 
 stories. What is known about 3^ou ? But, your 
 pardon, you are a loyal gentleman." 
 
 Shrugging my shoulders, I remarked courteously: 
 *' I regret most sincerely that the gallant lieutenant 
 should be so angry. I regret also he does not know 
 me. But, gentlemen " — and my voice sounded as 
 smooth and unruffled as if I were in the presence of 
 a lady — ** no one credits asses with the possession of 
 much brains ! " 
 
 The lieutenant fairly shrieked. Almost choking 
 with fury, he cried: '' I demand an apology." 
 
 "Ah," I said, reflectively, ''an apology. But, 
 then, asses do not understand apologies." 
 
 With a yell, Jones sprang towards me, his sword 
 flashing in his hand. Several of the others held him 
 back, while I remarked coldlv : ''Lieutenant Jones 
 is in a most devilish temper. Let him calm himself." 
 Then turnino- to Wildair : "May I ask you, 
 Wildair, to act for me? " 
 
 In a few seconds all was arranged, and our swords 
 crossed. Along the shining blades, which twined 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 197 
 
 and interlaced like living things, the moon's rays 
 played lovingly. With their clashing was inter- 
 mingled the fret-fret of the restless waters as they 
 kissed the shore and retreated to return again in end- 
 less procession. Round about in groups stood the 
 spectators, soldiers and dandies, watching with 
 straining, dilated eyes, the tierce and parry of the 
 sinuous weapons. 
 
 It was all over in a few minutes. My red-haired 
 opponent tried to beat down my blade. Slowly I 
 retreated before his wild onslaught, contenting my- 
 self with a parrying of his attack. Then slowly, 
 slowly I began to press him backwards. He was 
 completely at my mercy. In his blind fury he reck- 
 lessly exposed himself. Should I kill him ? the 
 question went surging through my brain. But, 
 then, what did his suspicions or innuendoes matter 
 to me now ? My task was finished. On the morrow 
 I would turn my back on Dublin, and so I spared 
 him. 
 
 He made a fierce lunge at me, which I swiftly 
 parried, and then my blade leaped out, and passed 
 through his left shoulder. With a groan, he stag- 
 gered back into the arms of his second, calling out 
 in a voice shaking with pain : 
 
 " Swetenhall, beware! I'll meet you again." 
 
 Perhaps I regretted at that moment the thrust had 
 not been lower. 
 
 Glancing round the circle who surrounded me, I 
 inquired: 
 
 *' Can I place my sword at the service of any other 
 gentleman? " 
 
 But no answer came and I resumed my garments. 
 I had won through. 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 AN OLD FRIEND 
 
 The darkness of a June night had long thrown its 
 dark shadow across the land as weary and travel- 
 stained I urged my lagging steed along the rough 
 road leading towards the little hamlet of Cathair 
 Domhnaill. Several days previously I had ridden 
 forth from the good city of Dublin, and away 
 with flowing rein towards the country of my early 
 days, amongst whose heather-clad hills and wild 
 gleanns I had wandered in those dear, dead days 
 when life was new, and spread out its beautiful vista 
 before me. 
 
 At early dawn I had been in the saddle speeding 
 forward towards the district round which my further 
 work would lie. Amongst the mountains of wild Ui 
 Rathach and Corca Laighdhe I would find many a 
 one eager to help me. Brave boys in plenty would 
 grip my hand, and welcome the chance which I would 
 offer them to take their place beside their former 
 friends and companions in the ranks of the Brigade. 
 I felt that every mile which I left behind carried me 
 nearer to the haunts of friends. Even so, caution 
 was necessary. The country was full of spies watch- 
 ing with longing eyes for the golden reward which 
 the capture of such as I would throw in their way. 
 I had, therefore, avoided the larger towns which lay 
 on my route as much as possible, preferring to keep 
 to the villages and hamlets, and now I was almost at 
 my journey's end. 
 
 198 
 
A SWORDSMAN 199 
 
 As I rode up a steep incline an odd shimmering 
 light marking the position of the little hamlet broke 
 on my vision. Reining in my horse, I sat gazing 
 down on the place which I had left five years before, 
 a fugitive from the one-handed justice of the 
 Williamites. Again in fancy I could see the scene 
 before the little inn where I had struck down the 
 undertaker, Sir Michael Sickles. Had he succumbed 
 to his wound, I wondered. Would I meet brave old 
 Micheal Mor, whose hand had saved me from the 
 consequences of my deed. Would he know me? I 
 smiled at the thought. Verily it would take a keen 
 observer to recognise in the tall, broad-shouldered 
 Captain Hall, with his black beard, trimmed Vandyke 
 fashion, and his waxed moustachios, the stripling 
 who had fled that night. 
 
 For the better carrying out of my plans I had taken 
 care that the gallant Swetenhall should lose his 
 identity on the road, and one would be scarcely likely 
 to connect me with the Dublin roysterer. Striking 
 spurs into my horse, I dashed ahead. No need for 
 me to hesitate. I knew every turn and twist of that 
 road as if I had travelled it but yesterday. My steed 
 gathered together his flagging strength, and bore me 
 swiftly towards the village where he knew instinc- 
 tively he would halt for the night. 
 
 In a few minutes I pulled up before the door of the 
 inn, and, dismounting, threw the reins to the giolla 
 who came hurrying to meet me. Then I stepped 
 across the threshold. I had little difficulty in recog- 
 nising my old friend, the landlord, who came to meet 
 me. A little older, a little greyer, Micheal had 
 borne the years well. It was easy to see that he had 
 no suspicion as to the identity of his guest. 
 
 In a loud voice, as befitted one of my class and 
 character, I asked if I could have supper and lodgings 
 for the night. With the alacrity of a good host 
 Micheal answered that his house was at my disposal, 
 and he inquired what I would wish to have placed 
 before me for supper. 
 
200 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 " Whatever you please, good landlord," I replied, 
 "an' you serve it quickly, for I have ridden far 
 to-day." 
 
 Quickly a meal was set before me, and, having 
 satisfied the cravings of my hunger, 1 sent for the 
 landlord to inquire if my room were ready. He 
 came instantly and conducted me to it. As we were 
 mounting the stairs I stepped to his side, and asked 
 if I could have private speech of him. Hesitatingly 
 he replied that he was always ready to oblige his 
 customers; that he was ready to hear me. But I 
 answered the security of my room was necessary. 
 At that he regarded me long and earnestly. But I 
 was well disguised, and no inkling of the truth 
 crossed his mind. 
 
 When we had entered into the neat little room he 
 had assigned me, I closed the door carefully, and, 
 turning to Micheal, who was eyeing my every move- 
 ment, I asked in a lov/ tone if we were safe from 
 eavesdroppers. 
 
 " Why do you ask? " he demanded sharply. 
 
 ** Because, good landlord," I replied, still in the 
 same low tone, " these are dangerous times. And I 
 doubt not you know the proverb, ' the ditches have 
 ears.' " 
 
 ''Speak on, good sir," he said; "you need have 
 no fear," and he placed the candle which he was 
 carrying on a small table. 
 
 " Do you remember," I began, " a night five years 
 ago when a young fellow who had broken the 
 foreigner's law fled from the soldiers? " 
 
 Micheal was wary. He might be placing himself 
 in danger by avowing his knowledge to an unknown 
 stranger, and so he replied : 
 
 "Such an incident may have happened, but what 
 would I know of it? " 
 
 "This young fellow, indeed he w^as only a strip- 
 ling, escaped," I went on, ignoring his question, 
 "and it is whispered that it was by the aid of a 
 certain innkeeper." 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 201 
 
 " He must have been a bold man," he remarked, 
 carelessly. '* But it is seldom I hear of such ^things. 
 The cares of mv inn keep me busy, good sir." 
 
 " The duties of a good host are numerous," I pro- 
 ceeded. " And the ' White Rose ' has a good one. 
 But methinks landlords have ears, and they like to 
 use them. But we were speaking of this young man. 
 Micheal, he escaped to An Curran and from there to 
 France, thanks to this innkeeper and some other good 
 friends." 
 
 At the familiar address he started and paled. 
 
 " Oh ! Micheal, Micheal," I went on, enjoying his 
 trepidation, "you should not show your hand so 
 plainly. Were some spy to see you now?" And 
 then dropping my bantering tone, '* But fear not, 
 no harm will come to you through me." 
 
 He stared at me, his eyes wide with astonishment. 
 
 " Dia linn ! " he muttered, " who can this man be 
 who knows me so well ? ' ' 
 
 With a deft movement I removed my beard and 
 hat, saying at the same time : 
 
 " Do not speak or cry out. Piaras Gras stands 
 before you." 
 
 With tears in his eyes he embraced me, 
 whispering : 
 
 " Thank God that I have lived to see this day ; that 
 my old eyes have once more beheld your face. A 
 mhic mo chroidhe, I had never hoped to see you 
 again. But, Master Piaras, why have you come here 
 and in such a fashion? " 
 
 I told him of my work in Dublin, and of all which 
 had happened there, dwelling in particular on the 
 final embarkation from Howth, of the complete 
 success of which I had been told by Jans on the day 
 I had left the city. That merry young gallant had 
 laughed loudly over the discomfiture of the authorities 
 to which he had contributed so much. 
 
 " Now," I concluded, " I have come here to my 
 native place to carry out a similar work." 
 
 *' Master Piaras," said my brave old friend, *' it is 
 
202 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 dangerous work. The whole country is full of spies, 
 but you can depend on me to the last. No spy shall 
 ever learn your secret from me." 
 
 I grasped his hand. " I know you for a true 
 friend, Micheal," I said. 
 
 With a final " Dia dod' bheannachadh/' he turned 
 to go. But I stayed him. 
 
 " Remember, Micheal, a chara, Piaras Gras has 
 disappeared. In our public relations your guest is 
 the Captain Hall, an English gentleman travelling 
 for his pleasure." 
 
 Then with a loud '' Good night, Captain," he left 
 me, and in a few minutes I was sleeping soundly, as 
 befits the man who has ridden fast and far. 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 LOVE WHISPERS AGAIN— AN INVITATION 
 
 For some days I rested very quietly at the ** White 
 Rose." Then, with all the fervour and energy of 
 which my nature was capable, I threw myself again 
 into my work. Day and night I was afoot. To-day 
 in Bearra; to-morrow in Beanntraighe. While the 
 moonlight danced on the waters of Curran Lake I 
 received the fealty of many a bold glensman. Be- 
 neath the shadow of old Carran Tuathail many a 
 swift mountaineer fresh from his mountain fastnesses 
 bound himself to follow the soldier's career. To 
 wake and funeral I wended my way, and there in 
 the midst of the lowly graves where their fathers slept 
 I heard the vows of fidelity of the mourners, and 
 sealed the bargain in silver pieces. And then at 
 night-time, with only the bright stars or the pale 
 moon looking down, a little vessel would creep out of 
 some lonely inlet, just as five years agone I had crept 
 away, and out across the seas with its flight of '* wild 
 geese." 
 
 It was during this time that I saw my dream- 
 maiden. I had been abroad all day among the 
 peasantry whose dwellings lay round my old home. 
 Chance rather than inclination had led me there. I 
 had got word that a large number of people would 
 assemble to accompany the remains of one of their 
 number to the old churchyard. This report had 
 brought me hither. The seed had been sown amongst 
 them, and I knew I would reap a rich harvest. 
 
 203 
 
204 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 My task completed, I turned homewards. The 
 quiet of the evening had come, and the sun sinking 
 to its rest away in the west had begun to lengthen the 
 shadows across the grass. The mellow whistle of the 
 blackbird perched in its leafy shelter came to my 
 ears. The murmur of the babbling brook filled the 
 air with its music, while the lowing of a distant cow 
 floated adown the soft breeze. Everything w^as quiet 
 and reposeful. 
 
 Strange how in such a scene the thoughts of other 
 days come to you — sights and scenes from the long- 
 gone past : faces which have passed your way ; the 
 echo of a kind word ; the memory of a soft glance. 
 Strange how the note of some church bell, as mellowed 
 by the distance, it comes stealing through the air, 
 brings with it the bitter-sw^et remembrances of those 
 other years. 
 
 It was so with me. Again I felt stirring in my 
 heart the unconquerable longing to see the place where 
 I had spent my earliest days, the halls which had 
 echoed to miy childish prattle, but now, alas! gave 
 back the echo of a stranger's voice. Almost uncon- 
 sciously I turned in the direction of my old home. A 
 ride of a few miles brought me w^ithin view of it. 
 There beyond it stood calm and majestic, its grey, ivy- 
 covered w^alls lit up by the last rays of the dying sun. 
 How well I recalled those days when as a boy I had 
 wandered through its spacious rooms ! How well I 
 remembered that day when old Micheal Mor had 
 hoisted me on his broad shoulders, and carried me up 
 the winding stairs of its tall tower ! How I remem- 
 bered the great hall with its antlered deer-heads; its 
 burnished arms and weapons of w^ar and chase I 
 
 With a bitter sigh I turned away from the contem- 
 plation of it all, and, proud man that I am, inured to 
 war's red w^ork and rude alarms, I confess I felt the 
 hot tears start to my eyes. But with an effort I 
 dashed them away, and spurred my horse to the 
 gallop. To what purpose my vain regrets? All had 
 passed, and I was but a wanderer having no fortune 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 205 
 
 but my sword, no home but the rude barrack in some 
 foreign town. 
 
 My road led me to the little cottage where my father 
 had dwelt when the Williamite adventurer had driven 
 him forth from his ancestral halls. The unbidden 
 tears rose again as I looked. Nothing remained of 
 this other home of mine save roofless walls crumbling 
 to dust beneath the rude blast of the unpitying storm. 
 For a long time I stood amidst its ruins, then mounted 
 and continued my way, my heart bursting with grief. 
 The Grases had indeed been uprooted. Nothing 
 remained to tell what they once had been but a few 
 grass-grown mounds in the quiet churchyard beyond, 
 and the memories which lived in the hearts of the 
 people who had known and loved them. 
 
 I was recalled to myself by the trampling of horses. 
 Raising my head I caught sight of several riders 
 coming towards me. But as they trotted past I looked 
 more closely. With a sudden, fierce throb I recog- 
 nised one of the riders. There could be no mistaking 
 that noble head with its aureole of rich auburn hair, 
 that graceful form which sat its horse so perfectly. 
 The mad, wild blood went coursing through my veins 
 like fire. I had again found my love. 
 
 But the thought came with its cold logic : Duty lies 
 before you; love must be a thing apart. Was it not 
 better that I should school myself to forget. The 
 dream had been a beautiful one ; but one impossible of 
 fulfilment. She had, no doubt, merely wished to 
 show her gratitude for the slight service I had rendered 
 her. Probably long ere this I was forgotten. A 
 Dhia na bhfeart ! what right had I to count on remem- 
 brance ? A soldier thrown across her way by some 
 mischance of wayward fortune. 
 
 No ! I would forget my madness. I would live for 
 my profession, and for it alone. Fool ! fool ! to think 
 that I was stronger than Fate ; could laugh at love. 
 
 The days followed one another, and I was still at the 
 " White Rose." No suspicions had been aroused 
 
2o6 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 by my proceedings. The administrators of the law 
 seemed to be blissfully unconscious of my presence, 
 and the people were true. I came and went without 
 let or hindrance as if never a Government existed. 
 
 But one day I w^as startled out of the quiet tenor of 
 my ways. I was seated in the common room of the 
 inn at dinner. Suddenly I heard a heavy step, and, 
 looking up, I saw a burly, red-faced man enter slash- 
 ing his boot-tops with his riding whip. In stupefied 
 amazement I sat gazing at him. Was I mad or 
 dreaming? Surely it could not be he, the man whom 
 I had last seen with the blood streaming from the 
 wound my bullet had made that fatal evening five 
 years before. Surely my wits must be playing me 
 false, or could it be that my shot had not been fatal ? 
 This certainly was Sir Michael Sickles, my old enemy, 
 substantial and full-blooded as of old. 
 
 With an effort I resumed my meal. Out of the 
 corner of my eye I watched his movements. I could 
 see that he was watching me, and, with a sudden 
 resolution forming itself in my mind, I looked up and 
 gave him *' good even." But no gleam of recogni- 
 tion leaped into his eyes. In the black-bearded man 
 he did not recognise the former Piaras Grds. Surlily 
 he replied, and, seating himself opposite me at the 
 table, called loudly for wane. Micheal Mor himself 
 brought it, and gave me a warning look as he 
 inquired : 
 
 *' Can I do anything else for you. Captain?" 
 
 But I only shook my head in reply to this unneces- 
 sary question. 
 
 Sir Michael sat in silence for some time. Neither 
 did I speak. I had no desire for conversation with 
 this enemy, who had again come into my life. At 
 last he broke the silence. 
 
 ** You seem to be a stranger in this country, sir." 
 
 ** Yes," I returned. -* I am a stranger. A wan- 
 derer tired of the gaieties of cities, I seek a little relaxa- 
 tion far from them." 
 
 ** Have you been in Dublin ? " he inquired. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 207 
 
 ** Yes," I replied; '* I was there for some time.** 
 
 He bent forward confidentially. *' You are a mili- 
 tary man, Captain. I heard the landlord address you 
 as such. You must visit me at my place, Snaidhm 
 Castle, where we could enjoy a quiet game of piquet 
 or ecart6. I know all you officers play. Egad, 
 Captain, it is not fitting that you should spend your 
 time moping at an inn. You will, I warrant you, 
 find my place more congenial to your tastes." 
 
 Here was a dilemma. I almost laughed at the 
 strangeness of it — invited to my early home by the 
 man who had usurped it, the man against whom I had 
 turned my pistol. All my ideas as to the fitness of 
 things cried out against the acceptance of such 
 an invitation — my position as an emissary of the 
 Brigade; the memories of the olden time. Could I 
 accept? And, on the other hand, dare I refuse? My 
 refusal would perhaps rouse the enmity of the baronet, 
 and expose me to many petty annoyances which would 
 seriously interfere with my plans. It might set this 
 inquisitive baronet to making inquiries into the things 
 which interested a gentleman travelling for pleasure, 
 still unwilling to visit his kind. Better to avoid his 
 unpleasant inquiries. The acceptance of the invita- 
 tion held some danger, but at least my acquaintance 
 with him would do away with lurking doubts, would 
 brand me with a kind of official sanction. And so 
 with an airy politeness which I was far from feeling I 
 accepted. With a vigorous hand-shake he left me, 
 telling me he would expect me on the following 
 evening. 
 
 When he had gone, I sat in my chair cursing the 
 unhappy chance which had driven him in my direc- 
 tion. Once or twice I thought of not presenting 
 myself at the castle, but that would only make matters 
 worse. There was no escape. I should see the thing 
 through. When I told old Micheal of the affair he 
 shook his head, and muttered: " I like it not, I like it 
 not. God grant nothing evil comes of it.'* 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF MY ENEMY 
 
 It was with a curious feeling that I presented myself 
 the following evening at the residence of Sir ^lichael. 
 As I followed the servant through the spacious old 
 hall my thoughts were very bitter. But none should 
 know what a tempest was raging in my heart. 
 Bitterly I regretted having come, as I gazed on each 
 spot hallowed by memories. 
 
 And then I was in the presence of my host, uttering 
 words the purport of which I could hardly tell. But 
 he was too stolid to notice my perturbation. Gradu- 
 ally I recovered my self-possession, and was soon 
 chatting of the life of the gay metropolis. I found it 
 a very safe subject, for it was seldom he visited it. At 
 last dinner was announced, and I accompanied my 
 host to the dining-table. My self-possession almost 
 deserted me again as a girl advanced towards us, and 
 was introduced by the baronet as his daughter. But 
 I recovered myself quickly, and bowing low, raised 
 her fingers to my lips. 
 
 With my brain in a whirl, I seated myself. It was 
 as I had half suspected. This fair girl whose image 
 I had enshrined in my heart, whose every grace and 
 charm had entwined themselves with the tenderest 
 recollections of my life, she whose memory I had 
 vainlv endeavoured to cast out of my thoughts, was 
 the daughter of my enemy, one of the hated race who 
 had torn our lands and livings from us, and sent us 
 forth wanderers. 
 
 208 
 
A SWORDSMAN 209 
 
 How much better that I had never known ? Then 
 I might have treasured the memory of her dear face 
 in my secret thoughts — treasured it where neither 
 time nor care would have effaced it. But now my 
 dream was ended; my idol shattered. The jewel 
 which I had treasured w^as torn from me by the 
 ruthless hand of Destiny. So be it. I would bow my 
 head to it, and laugh and smile as if I had never 
 known. 
 
 Somehow the meal ended. Sir Michael, who had 
 enjoyed himself thoroughly, grew drowsy and snored 
 loudly in his arm-chair. Thus the burden of the 
 conversation fell to myself and my fair companion. 
 As we chatted, I noticed that her eyes often regarded 
 me thoughtfully. Perhaps some note of my voice 
 called up a half-forgotten memory. But coolly in- 
 different, I sat as if I had never guided her twinkling 
 feet through the mazes of the dance, or listened to her 
 sweet voice before that night. 
 
 During one of the lulls in the conversation she 
 asked, suddenly : 
 
 "Captain Hall, you have been in Dublin. Have 
 
 you ever met with a gentleman named Swetenhall ? " 
 
 '' Swetenhall I Swetenhall! " I murmured, reminis- 
 
 cendy. '' I may have, but cannot recall. What was 
 
 he like?" 
 
 I felt almost criminal as I asked the question. 
 " Tall, handsome, dark-complexioned, wearing a 
 small black moustachio. Altogether foreign-looking. 
 I knew him well. He did me a service once which I 
 can never forget." 
 
 '* I regret I cannot give you any information 
 regarding him. Mistress Sickles," I replied, slowly, 
 while my eyes sought the table. '' I meet so many 
 men in my wanderings, I cannot remember." 
 
 She appeared disappointed, but made no further 
 reference to the matter. Soon after I took my 
 departure, and the last remembrance of that fateful 
 visit is the face of the daughter of my enemv as she 
 Stood in the open doorway beneath the fl'ickering 
 
 Q 
 
210 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 light of the candles bidding me adieu, while the soft 
 night breeze ruffled the stray curls of her hair. 
 
 And that night in my dreams I seemed to see her 
 with her hands stretched out to me appealingly, while 
 a far-away murmur came to me: "She remembers. 
 She remembers.** 
 
 I avoided Snaidhm Castle after that visit. Never 
 again would I look on the face of my love, now lost 
 to me. As well might the wolf and the lamb lie down 
 together, as the son of the Grasach to look on the 
 daughter of the Williamite undertaker. Faugh I the 
 thing w^as impossible. Thus I fortified myself. 
 
 I had taken precautions that my enemy should not 
 find me at the inn. Several times he called, but I 
 was absent on each occasion. For several weeks this 
 game of hide-and-seek continued, and then one even- 
 ing as I was strolling along beneath the shadow of 
 the woods I heard the swift tramp of a horse behind 
 me, and stepped aside off the narrow path to give it 
 passage. But the horse halted beside me, and a 
 voice uttered my name. Looking up, I perceived 
 that the rider was none other than my enemy's 
 daughter. For an instant I was confused, then my 
 hat swept the ground in salute. Silently I stood 
 before her. But she asked me to assist her to dis- 
 mount, remarking, naively: "It is so much easier 
 to talk when walking." 
 
 I assisted her from the saddle, blaming myself for a 
 fool. But she could not help being the daughter of 
 my enemy, and she was very fair and winning. So 
 we walked on together in silence, beneath the wide- 
 spreading trees, our feet making no sound on the 
 soft earth. 
 
 She seemed to be thinking deeply, or mayhap she 
 was waiting for me to begin. But I had no desire 
 to commence the conversation. At last she broke the 
 awkward silence : 
 
 " Captain, you have not visited us lately. Did 
 you not enjoy your first visit, or is there any other 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 211 
 
 reason why you do not come again to our poor 
 house ? " 
 
 " Believe me, Mistress Sickles," I said, earnestly, 
 "there are reasons why I cannot visit your house. 
 I regret that these reasons exist, for your sake as well 
 as my own; but they raise themselves barrier-like." 
 
 '* Why not? " she urged. " Time must lie heavily 
 on your hands. You have been used to the gay 
 society of Dublin, and though we cannot offer you 
 the enjoyments of a gay city, let us contribute in 
 some measure to the brightening of your stay amongst 
 us. Surely, Captain, you will allow us? " 
 
 Steadfastly I answered: "It grieves me much to 
 think that I cannot, mademoiselle, but I ask you not 
 to urge it. The refusal pains me." 
 
 But she would not be satisfied, and continued 
 urging, and at last I said : 
 
 " If you knew the man whom you are urging, 
 fair Mistress, you would hardly press me. If I were 
 to tell you that I am playing a double game, what 
 would you think? If I were to tell " 
 
 But I shrank from the avowal of my former 
 relations with her father. No ; let her live in ignor- 
 ance of my secret. 
 
 " Ah, Captain, you are trying to frighten me," she 
 said, with a ringing laugh. " Trying to make me 
 think you a very wicked personage. But you make 
 me all the more eager to gain your consent. You 
 will come. Captain Hall; promise me." 
 
 Could one fight against such urgings, against such 
 trust and confidence ? I could have fought the blan- 
 dishments and cajoleries of Sir Michael himself, but 
 against the urgings of this fair enemy I was not proof. 
 
 With something very like a groan, I consented, 
 and assisting her to mount again, we parted. 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 FOR THE HEAD OF A TRAITOR — LOVE COMES TO ME 
 
 When I reached the castle the following evening, I 
 found the baronet reading an official-looking docu- 
 ment. He greeted me boisterously, and then con- 
 tinued his reading, leaving me to my own devices. 
 But I was not long left in loneliness, for the door 
 opened, and Mary, looking bewitching in a gown of 
 white silk, came in. She had hardly greeted me when 
 her father turned round. 
 
 " Gad, Hall," he burst out, *' here's a fine business. 
 Some d — rebel of a Jacobite down here recruiting 
 for the Frenchies. There, read that," and he pushed 
 the paper he had been reading towards me. 
 
 Rapidly I ran through it. It offered a sum^ of 
 five hundred pounds for the capture of a French officer 
 who was known to be recruiting in Kerry. With a 
 laugh I pushed it back to him. 
 
 ''What do you think of it. Hall?" Sir Michael 
 asked. ** A Jacobite spy amongst us, eh. But," 
 with a fierce oath, '' I'll lay him by the heels. No one 
 of their breed shall run loose round here for long." 
 
 " I am sure of that, Sir Michael," I replied, dryly. 
 " No one could doubt your zeal and activity." 
 
 Was it fancy, or did I catch a look of intelligence 
 flash from the eyes of Mary as she stood watching me ? 
 
 Dinner was announced, and for the time spies and 
 Jacobites were forgotten. But several times Sir 
 Michael growled out his intention of '* laying the 
 spying scoundrel by the heels." Looking at the 
 
 212 
 
A SWORDSMAN 213 
 
 coarse, bloated features of the baronet, I felt a great 
 wave of pity surging through my heart for the gracious 
 girl condemned to a lonely lite with that fierce old 
 roysterer whose only enjoyment seemed to centre 
 round the dinner-table and the wine-bottle. 
 
 Dinner over, Mary excused herself, while I sat 
 on, an indifferent listener to the conversation of the 
 baronet. But quickly his company palled on me, 
 and leaving him dozing, and enjoying his wine be- 
 tween the dozes, I strolled out into the night air. The 
 night was warm, and heavy with the scent of wood- 
 bine and hawthorn. 
 
 I had gone farther from the house than I knew, 
 when the rustle of a gown startled me, and a soft 
 voice said : 
 
 '' Captain, I expected to find you still with my 
 father, but he told me you had gone out. A penny for 
 your thoughts." 
 
 " Yes, you shall have them. Mistress Sickles," I 
 replied, turning quickly; " you shall have them if you 
 care to listen. But I warn you they are unpleasant 
 enough." 
 
 We were quite alone. I had fought a battle with 
 myself that day, and had come to a decision. I would 
 tell her all. Mayhap my confidence would be ill- 
 placed, but the stories I had heard from Micheal of 
 her goodness to the poor, down-trodden people had 
 decided me. I was convinced I could depend on her 
 truthfulness and honour. 
 
 "Yes," I went on, gravely, *' I will tell you my 
 thoughts. They are those of a man who is playing a 
 double part. Mistress Sickles, I have been playing a 
 double game. Myself and the Captain Swetenhall 
 whom you used to know in Dublin are one and the 
 same person." 
 
 Quickly I removed the black beard, and stood 
 revealed in the moonlight. I marked the pallor of 
 her face as she gazed at me with wide-open eyes. 
 But she said nothing. 
 
 ** When your father," I resumed, ''gave me that 
 
214 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 document to read to-night he httle guessed to whom 
 he was showing it. He Httle guessed he was showing 
 it to the very man whom it concerns — the man whom 
 he has sworn to capture. Yes, Mistress Sickles, I am 
 the French officer who has come amongst you recruit- 
 ing for the Brigade. But I am no spy. I have taken 
 every means I could to further my cause. I carry my 
 life in my hands, but I have not stained them with 
 dishonour. I came here this evening fully prepared 
 to reveal all to you, because I do not wish to enter 
 your father's house again. I feel it would be dis- 
 honourable. To-night I bid farewell to this house; 
 then let the agents of the law seek me out. No one 
 knows my secret save yourself. I know I can depend 
 on your honour not to betray it. You are the daughter 
 of a loyal supporter of the Ascendancy, but even so, 
 I trust you." 
 
 I ceased, waiting for her answer. Raising her head, 
 and looking me in the face, she replied: 
 
 " Captain Hall, though you are a French officer, 
 though ten times five hundred pounds were on your 
 head, though I am the daughter of Sir Michael 
 Sickles, your secret is safe with me." 
 
 She laid her hands in mine, and I was sorely 
 tempted to take her in my arms and kiss her upturned 
 face. But I restrained myself. 
 
 "And Mistress Sickles," I resumed, "before I 
 leave you, perhaps never to see you again, let me tell 
 you another secret, more painful than the other, but 
 one which needs must be told." 
 
 "Why tell it if it pains you? " she hastened to 
 ask. 
 
 " Because I wish to act as an honourable man. 
 Years ago," I hurried on, " this castle and all its 
 lands was in the possession of the Grases. From 
 father to son they followed on in unbroken succes- 
 sion for countless generations. Then came war, 
 with all its disastrous consequences. The Grasach 
 espoused the losing side, and was driven forth." 
 
 " And my father was given his possessions," she 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 215 
 
 whispered, with a catch in her voice. How lovely 
 she lookedl And I was going to lose her. 
 
 "Yes," I went on, gently, "your father became 
 the possessor of the lands of the Grdsach, while he, 
 a ruined and broken man, lived out his life in a little 
 wayside hovel. Years rolled away, and then one 
 evening as the son of that broken man was mounting 
 his mare in the village of Cathair Domhnaill yon- 
 der. Sir Michael Sickles strode up and demanded his 
 mare from him, offering the price which the law 
 allows, five pounds. But the offer was repelled, and 
 rather than allow his beloved mare to become the 
 property of Sir Michael, the son of the Grasach shot 
 her, and as the knight threw himself on him with 
 drawn sword, discharged his other pistol at him. 
 That night that stripling, for he was little more, 
 whose life was forfeit, escaped to France." 
 
 "You — you are the son of the Grasach?" she 
 whispered. 
 
 " Yes, I am Piaras, the son of the Grasach. Can 
 you wonder now that I must away from your house 
 — that I cannot enter under its roof again ? I was 
 a mad fool ever to have come, but my madness is 
 over." 
 
 " But why — why have you told me all this painful 
 story of the bygone years? " she asked me. 
 
 " I tell it to you because I love you, have loved 
 you from the first. Because I could not live a lie in 
 your pure presence. Because before I go I want to 
 carry away the knowledge that you have forgiven 
 my deception which, God knows, was not of my 
 making. Mistress Sickles, will you tell me that I 
 am forgiven, that I may carry into my exile the 
 memory of your sweet pardon? Mary, a mhuirnin, 
 I love you, but love is not for me." 
 
 " Why is it not for you?" she breathed softly, 
 bending towards me. ... A Dhia ! how fair she 
 looked in her shimmering robes of white. . . . "Is 
 it because I am the daughter of Sir Michael Sickles? 
 What have I to forgive? Say rather what have you 
 
2i6 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 not forgiven. Have you not declared your love for 
 me, the daughter of your enemy ? Since those happy 
 nights we spent in each other's company in Dublin 
 I have loved you. What care I that you are a 
 French officer! I love you, Piaras." 
 
 " But, Mary — I, an outlaw with a price on my 
 head. I, an opponent of the law which your father 
 administers ; an enemy to everything which you have 
 been taught to hold dear." 
 
 ''What matters it to me if you be an outlaw? 
 What if there be a price on your head? I care 
 nothing. I love you." 
 
 And there beneath the stars, with the night v/ind 
 sighing round, I took her in my arms. My mission, 
 the reward for my capture, Sir Michael, all, all were 
 forgotten in the joy of these few minutes. Ah ! what 
 can equal the trustfulness of a good w^oman ; what 
 equal the purity of her faith in her idol ! 
 
 And later as I stooped from my saddle to imprint 
 a good-night kiss on her upturned face, she whispered 
 into my ear: ''Have faith in me. Your secret is 
 safe. I love you." 
 
CHAPTER XXXlll 
 
 THE PROTECTION OF THE LAW-ABIDING 
 
 After that evening I kept far from the house where 
 love had come to me. With feverish impatience, I 
 pushed on my task. Recklessly I faced the danger 
 which was around me, but it passed me by. Often 
 I was within an ace of capture. Many times I 
 quaffed my wine with the officers of the military 
 patrols which had been scouring the country for me, 
 and toasted with them the speedy capture of the 
 miscreant. Many a time I sent them on a long chase 
 after some will-o'-the-wisp w^hich had existence only 
 in my own imagination. Everywhere I went the 
 little white proclamations which set the price on my 
 head flaunted themselves in my face. But the price 
 was still unclaimed. The black-bearded Captain 
 Hall was still at large. 
 
 But though I kept away from the castle, my dear 
 one hovered near. Evening's close often brought 
 her to my side, and then we would wander away into 
 the grand old woods, to whisper again, 'neath the 
 spreading pine or gnarled oak, our vows of love. 
 
 One evening, when I had been about six weeks in 
 the Ui Rathach country, she came to me, her eyes 
 full of anxiety, and told me that one Lieutenant 
 Jones, a red-haired soldier she had know^n in Dublin, 
 had arrived at the castle. She had heard her father 
 talking with him, and discovered that he had been 
 sent on special duty to hunt down the recruiting- 
 agent. I smiled grimly as I listened. The lieutenant 
 had made a quick recovery. 
 
 217 
 
2i8 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 " Piaras," she whispered, nestling closer, *' you 
 will be careful for my sake. I have an uneasy 
 feeling about this Jones. I shiver with apprehen- 
 sion as I think of your dear life exposed to the traps 
 and wiles of spies and informers." 
 
 " Fear not for me, a ghradh gil," I said, kissing 
 her fondly. " Lieutenant Jones will find his work 
 cut out for him. I am not tired of life yet." 
 
 And she was content with my assurance. 
 
 At last an error almost led to my undoing. Per- 
 haps I was careless; that my constant immunity had 
 rendered me less wary than I might have been. 
 Thus it came about that I enlisted a fellow whom I 
 met by the wayside. As I tendered him the piece of 
 silver something seemed to whisper that I was a fool 
 to trust him, but his glib tongue deceived me, and I 
 refused to listen to the voice within. But whatever 
 subtle instinct moved me, I shrank from giving him 
 the name of our rendezvous. 
 
 A few days later as I was riding leisurely on my 
 homeward way I stopped at a roadside inn, and 
 throwing my rein across the tethering-ring outside, 
 entered. I called for wine, which was served to me 
 at a little side table. Hardly had I seated myself, 
 when the jingle of accoutremeniis struck on my ear, 
 and almost immediately the room was filled with 
 troopers, foremost amongst whom I recognised my 
 whilom recruit, now clad in dragoon's uniform. 
 Instantly I saw my danger. It behoved me to act 
 quickly. Pulling my hat over my eyes, I finished 
 my wine without any undue appearance of haste. 
 Lounging carelessly towards the door, I had almost 
 reached it when a voice rang out : 
 
 " Hold I Stop him I It is the Jacobite spy!" 
 
 With a blow of my fist I levelled the trooper who 
 sprang to seize me, and was through the door like 
 a flash. In an instant I was astride my horse and 
 speeding down the road, with the troopers yelling 
 like demons behind. The chase was furious. Never- 
 theless, I held my own in the first mad burst. But 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 219 
 
 my horse was jaded, and began to lose ground. 
 Unless I secured shelter, and that quickly, I would 
 be captured. In my extremity I took a desperate 
 resolution. We were not far from Snaidhm Castle. 
 I would take refuge in the house of the law-abiding 
 Sir Michael, and trust to good fortune to carry me 
 through. 
 
 Urging my horse to his greatest speed, I dashed 
 up to the castle, well in front of my pursuers. A 
 servant came hurrying forward, who led away my 
 horse. I was ushered into the presence of the 
 baronet, who was not alone. I was not surprised to 
 recognise in his companion my quondam opponent, 
 Jones. I bowed to the baronet, who welcomed me, 
 and offered me a seat beside him, introducing me at 
 the same time to his companion. They had been 
 playing cards. 
 
 " Gentlemen, gentlemen," I cried, " do not allow 
 me to interrupt your game. Mine is a mere passing 
 visit." 
 
 Sir Michael offered me a hand, but I declined, and 
 sat watching the play, all the while listening intently. 
 I was not mistaken. The soldiers had tracked me to 
 my refuge. I heard their clatter as they dashed up 
 to the door. Their voices sounded in the hall. I 
 knew the moment had come. Removing the beard 
 from my face, I sat revealed. 
 
 " Swetenhall, by Heaven," burst forth the aston- 
 ished Jones. 
 
 '' My friends," I said quietly, '* I have been pur- 
 sued here by soldiers. You can hear them outside 
 in the hall. Sit quietly and continue your game. I 
 give you warning that if by word or sign you betray 
 me to them, your lives will pay the forfeit. My 
 pistols are loaded," showing them. " Now play on ! " 
 
 It was a tight corner, but I imagined I knew my 
 men. In the shadow I sat, my pistols pressing 
 against their stomachs. We had not long to wait. 
 The door was thrown open, and the officer of the 
 patrol appeared. He addressed Sir Michael. 
 
220 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 '*Sir Michael, we are in pursuit of a French 
 recruiting officer for whose capture a large reward is 
 offered. For the moment he has escaped us. Has 
 he entered your house? " 
 
 The long barrel of my pistol pressed into the 
 stomach ol the unfortunate baronet, who growled 
 out: 
 
 " I know nothing of him. Why do you come 
 here disturbing a loyal gendeman and his friends at 
 their cards? " 
 
 " Your pardon, Sir Michael," said the officer, 
 ** but the Queen's duty must be attended to. The 
 rebel may have taken refuge here." 
 
 " Sirrah, what do you mean? " roared Sir Michael, 
 urged thereto by a prod of my pistol. ''In my 
 house — the house of a justice." 
 
 *' I ask your pardon. Sir Michael," said the 
 abashed officer. " I could almost have sworn he 
 entered here, but we must have missed the scoundrel. 
 With your permission we will withdraw. Perhaps 
 we will pick him up again. Good night, Sir 
 Michael." 
 
 " Good night," growled the baronet. 
 
 Just as the officer was turning away, I caught a 
 movement on the part of Jones. Instantly my pistol 
 pressing against his stomach reminded him of his 
 peril, and he sank back again in his chair. 
 
 For several minutes we sat in silence. I heard the 
 troopers departing. With a laugh I turned to my 
 fuming companions. 
 
 " A close shave, my masters," I burst out jovially, 
 as I put up my pistols, " but all's well that ends well. 
 I am deeply grateful for the kind assistance you have 
 given me. Had you acted in any other manner I 
 would have been very pained at the result. But, Sir 
 Michael, will you not ask me to have a bumper? " 
 
 With a furious oath, he filled out a bumper of 
 wine, and pushed it towards me. 
 
 Leisurely sipping it, I turned towards Jones, and 
 inquired, suavely: 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 221 
 
 ** And you, Lieutenant Jones, how are you, and 
 my other Dublin friends? I am glad to see you 
 recovered from your slight indisposition." 
 
 "Oh, you damned villain!" he grated through 
 his set teeth. " Had I only known I " 
 
 ** I can assure you, lieutenant, it would have sadly 
 inconvenienced me had you known," I replied, 
 laughing. *' I was quite aware of your good 
 intentions." 
 
 "Oh 1 you dog of a spy," he snarled. 
 
 "Easy! easy! lieutenant," I admonished him. 
 ** Do not allow your temper to get the better of you." 
 
 Then I bade them see me off. I judged the patrol 
 to be well on its way by now, and beyond reach of 
 recall. Even so, I did not wish to give them the 
 chance of possible treachery. At the door I gave 
 them a cordial good night, and mounted my horse, 
 which a servant brought round. Sir Michael said 
 nothing; he seemed to be stupefied by the rush of 
 events. But Jones could not restrain himself. 
 
 " Swetenhall, or whoever the devil you are, look 
 to yourself," he shouted. "I'll see you dancing at 
 the rope's end yet." 
 
 Whereat I laughed, and giving rein to my horse, 
 was away into the night. 
 
 I had not gone far when I caught the flutter of 
 white draperies, and heard my name uttered. In an 
 instant I was by the side of my loved one. 
 
 "Ah, Piaras, Piaras," she upbraided, "why will 
 you run such terrible risks ? I saw you enter the 
 house, and when the soldiers rode up knew whom 
 they were seeking. I feared for you, but knew my 
 presence could not help, but on the contrary might 
 do you harm. Ah ! the agony and despair of these 
 few minutes. In terror I watched from my window, 
 fearing every moment to see you led forth a prisoner. 
 When I saw them leave I almost fainted with joy. 
 And then when I saw you ride off, I stole away and 
 came through the woods. Piaras, it wrings my heart 
 to see you in such peril." 
 
222 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 "A mhuirnin dilis," I breathed into her ear, 
 " what kind fate has sent you into my Hfe ? A poor 
 soldier of fortune, havingi only his sword*. But, 
 come, love, the night grows late. The daughter of 
 a loyal gentleman should not give speech to seditious 
 persons, and at such hours. Come, I will see you 
 home." 
 
 She urged me to go, saying the danger was too 
 great. But I silenced her remonstrances with a kiss. 
 With my horse's rein thrown across my shoulder, I 
 led her back by the way she had come, and told her 
 of the stratagem by which I had cheated my enemies. 
 As she lay in my arms before we parted at the edge 
 of the old wood she asked : 
 
 " Piaras, when will this terrible danger be at an 
 end?" 
 
 *' A few days more," I answered, '' and then away 
 to merry France. A mhuirnin, it is little I have to 
 offer you for your boundless love and devotion. 
 Fortune or rank I have none. Turn back even now. 
 I shall not blame you, nor bear you one bitter 
 thought. Fortune and rank can be yours for the 
 asking. I can give you nothing but my loyalty." 
 
 But she answered steadily: "Piaras, I love you. 
 Riches, honours, I desire them not, so that you are 
 near. I will follow you to the ends of the earth." 
 
 A kiss sealed the compact. I w^atched her floating 
 draperies as she disappeared amongst the shrubberies. 
 Then I turned and resumed my way. 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE FROWN OF FORTUNE 
 
 Though the fox cheats the hounds for many a day he 
 is caught at last. I felt that the coils were tightening 
 round me, but my work went merrily on. Under 
 the very noses of the authorities I enlisted my 
 recruits. In a dozen different disguises I wandered 
 up and down Ui Rathach, to-day a parson of the 
 Established Church ; to-morrow a friar. In Cathair 
 Saidhbhin a gay dragoon, in the town of the Little 
 Skiffs a burly, loud-voiced corn merchant. 
 
 I had quitted the " White Rose," fearing to com- 
 promise old Micheal, who wept bitterly at my going, 
 and now dwelt wherever chance offered. But one day 
 my luck took a sudden turn. Fickle Dame Fortune 
 had showered her favours on me ; she was now deter- 
 mined to show me the reverse. It was but a few miles 
 from Snaidhm that the blow fell. With a reckless- 
 ness born of the constant presence of danger I tried a 
 cast with the capricious dame, and eschewing all dis- 
 guise, trusting to chance and the fleetnessof my horse, 
 went forth. For several hours I pursued my way un- 
 molested, and had just parted from a tall peasant who 
 had brought me word of a mountain hosting where 
 my presence was eagerly awaited. Promising to be 
 with him on the morrow, I turned to continue my 
 way to the house of a neighbouring sympathiser, 
 when suddenly I heard the tramp of a mounted patrol 
 coming towards me. They were hidden by a bend 
 in the road, and were close up before I was aware of 
 
 223 
 
224 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 their presence. As they swept into view, I turned 
 my horse's head to flee, but frightened by a pistol 
 shot w^hich rang out behind he reared, and threw me 
 heavily. In an instant, lying half stunned, I was 
 surrounded. As I rose to my feet I perceived my 
 friends, Sir Michael Sickles and Lieutenant Jones, 
 the latter of whom shouted out loudly : " Surrender 
 yourself, in the Queen's name." 
 
 An instant I thought of resistance, but as I glanced 
 round at the drawn swords of my captors I saw how 
 useless it would be. Could I use my pistols I carried 
 a couple of lives in my hand, but what then — to fall 
 hacked to pieces beneath the strokes of half-a-score 
 sabres. No ! Piaras Gr^s would have another 
 day. 
 
 With a shrug of my shoulders I turned towards 
 Sir Michael, who was pompously reading an official- 
 looking document, and glancing at me from time to 
 time. No need to tell me what it contained. Had 
 I not read through its dreary waste of words a full 
 score times ? Did it not flaunt itself in my face from 
 every tree-trunk in the countryside? Could I not 
 repeat it almost word for word ? 
 
 ** Hall, otherwise Swetenhall, describing himself as 
 a Captain late of Her Majesty's Army ; age twenty- 
 eight or thereabouts ; height five feet ten ; good teeth ; 
 brown eyes ; black hair, worn rather long and curling ; 
 black moustachios waxed to a point ; erect military 
 carriage. Probably will appear under various dis- 
 guises. To anyone capturing and delivering into 
 the hands of the authorities the person of the said 
 Captain Hall, otherwise Swetenhall, who is engaged 
 in recruiting for French service, the before-mentioned 
 sum (;^5oo) will be paid." 
 
 Courteously bowing, I inquired : *' Monsieur le 
 Baronnet, may I spare you the trouble of so much 
 reading? I am the man you seek, 'Hall, otherwise 
 Swetenhall/ '* 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 225 
 
 " So, sirrah/* he sneered, folding up the document, 
 " we have laid you by the heels at last.'* 
 
 " Monsieur le Baronnet," I replied, ** you hold the 
 winning hand," and I glanced round the circle of 
 hostile faces. 
 
 My sword and pistols were taken from me, and 
 mounted on my horse, which one of the soldiers had 
 caught, I was led back to my old home. Through a 
 long corridor I was led and into a small room with 
 barred windows. There, bound tightly in a chair, 
 they left me. As I heard the key grate in the lock 
 I felt I was indeed a prisoner. 
 
 My position was unpleasant enough sitting there 
 unable to move hand or foot. The cords cut into my 
 flesh, and I suffered tortures from the manner in 
 which my blood stagnated owing to their tightness. 
 I knew they had posted a sentry beneath my windows, 
 for I could hear his footsteps crunching through the 
 gravel, while the door was also guarded. Dar 
 m'fhocal, I thought, they have taken good care of me. 
 Well I knew that my stay here would be a short one. 
 Probably I would be sent the next morning to some 
 of the neighbouring towns to await transportation to 
 Dublin, and then, in fancy, I could see myself 
 standing bare-headed, gazing down on the upturned 
 faces of an angry mob filling the whole expanse of 
 Stephen's Green, with the grim outline of the 
 gallows looming up behind me. Little as I wished 
 to make a spectacle for a Dublin rabble, I could see 
 no chance of escape without outside help. Powerless 
 in the midst of my enemies, I could only await the 
 turn of events. Several times I thought of Mary, who 
 would have doubtless learned of my capture, but with 
 such a strict watch on my prison what could she do ? 
 
 I must have fallen into a doze. Suddenly I awoke 
 with a feeling that I was not alone. Through the 
 windows the moon was sending a fitful ray. The 
 sounds of the house had died away. Even the 
 monotonous step of the sentinel outside my door had 
 ceased. With a start I realised that someone was in 
 
226 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 the room. The soft swish of a woman's dress came 
 through the profound stillness. A soft hand was 
 laid across my mouth, and a dear voice whispered in 
 my ear : 
 
 " Hush ! Do not make a sound. I have come to 
 save you.'- 
 
 With eager, trembling hands she unloosed my 
 bonds. For several minutes I could not stand erect 
 owing to the cramped position in which I had been 
 for so long. When at length, after vigorous chafing, 
 my blood had begun to flow freely again she gave me 
 her hand and led me out through the door, v/hich 
 she locked carefully behind her. There stretched on 
 the ground outside the door lay the sentry breathing 
 heavily, his carbine beside him. 
 
 ** Drugged beer," she whispered. 
 
 Noiselessly we moved down the corridor, our way 
 lit up by the moonlight, which struggled feebly in 
 through a tall lancet window. In whispers she told 
 me how she had managed to slip into the beer 
 intended for the sentries a powerful narcotic which 
 her father sometimes made use of, and then, when 
 the household had retired, secured the key of my 
 prison. The task had not been very difficult because 
 of the junketing which celebrated my capture. 
 Under the door of the dining-room we could see the 
 light of the candles which had not yet been extin- 
 guished, and hear the stertorous sounds proceeding 
 from the baronet and his companion, Jones, who were 
 sleeping off the effects of their carouse. Like a pair 
 of shadows we stole past. Through long corridors 
 and down broad staircases we sped. Only once 
 did we halt, when she left me to put the key again in 
 Sir Michael's private room, from which she had taken 
 it earlier in the night. 
 
 At last we were in the open air, and then pressing 
 her to me in a tender embrace, I sped away through 
 the darkness towards a mountain cottage where one 
 of my trustiest friends dwelt, which I reached ere the 
 dawn had come. 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 CONSUMMATION — FAREWELL 
 
 Five days had passed since my escape. During that 
 time I had not been idle. Everything was ready for 
 the final stroke which would bring my work to its 
 fitting conclusion — which would crown it with the 
 guerdon of love. The word had gone round to my 
 gallant felFows, and beyond in the little creek where 
 my "wild geese" would rendezvous the swift 
 smuggler lay waiting to spread her white sails to 
 the breeze which would bear us away to the kindly 
 French shore. 
 
 I had learned that mo chailin aluinn would be 
 present that evening at a ball to be held in the neigh- 
 bourhood of her own home. Accordingly my ar- 
 rangements had been made. That night would see 
 the fulfilment of all my fondest dreams. 
 
 It was within an hour of midnight as I drew up my 
 horse in a lonely thicket beside the road along which 
 Sir Michael and my love should travel homewards. 
 I was well screened from the view of anyone who 
 should pass the way. But the road was a lonely one, 
 and my vigil proved long and solitary. At last my 
 patience was rewarded, and in the distance I heard the 
 rumble of a coach. The moment for action was at 
 hand. 
 
 As the coach came into view I rode out from the 
 shadow, and my loud *' halt " rang through the night 
 air. An upraised pistol gave force to my command. 
 With the swiftness which terror lends, the coachman 
 
 227 
 
228 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 threw his horses back on their haunches. My pistol 
 still covering them, I ordered himself and his com- 
 panion footman to throw away such arms as they 
 might have. With alacrity they obeyed, and several 
 blunderbusses went hurtling into the thick heather 
 which bordered the road. 
 
 The head of Sir Michael was thrust from the coach 
 window, and with a full-mouthed oath he demanded 
 the reason of the stoppage. I advanced towards 
 him. 
 
 " Sir Michael," I replied, '' I have taken the liberty 
 of stopping your coach. I have come in the fulfilment 
 of a duty. Your daughter has done me the honour 
 of giving me her love. I have, therefore, come to 
 demand her at your hands, well knowing there was 
 little use of asking your consent beyond in your castle, 
 where you were surrounded by the instruments of your 
 power. But here now, where we are more equal, I 
 ask her from you. She loves me, and I have sworn 
 to make her happy. But should she, even now, at 
 this eleventh hour, w^ish to draw back, I will not say 
 her nay. Never shall it be said that I forced an 
 unwilling bride to my arms." 
 
 *' An unwilling bride! Sirrah, what do you 
 mean?" Sir Michael roared. "Who are you who 
 dares to stop a justice on the highway ? " 
 
 *' I am one whom you know well," I replied calmly. 
 ** One who was recently a prisoner in your house. An 
 outlaw; a traitor, an' you will, Sir Baronet, but still 
 an honourable man. But what says your daughter ? " 
 
 ** My daughter, sir, can have nothing to say to such 
 as you. An outlaw — a scurvy knave with a price on 
 your head. Out of my way, sirrah." 
 
 " Let her answer for herself," I answered unruffled. 
 
 So saying I dismounted, and swinging open the 
 door of the ponderous vehicle assisted her to alight. 
 
 But I had not noticed a dark figure stealing up 
 behind. It was the cry of my dear one which warned 
 me. Turning I saw the red-haired Jones rushing on 
 me with drawn sword. Raising my pistol I fired. 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 229 
 
 With a cry of pain he dropped his sword and stag- 
 gered back, his sword-arm hanging useless. 
 
 " That will be a warning, lieutenant," I remarked. 
 
 "Mistress Sickles," I went on, "you have heard 
 the proposition I have made to your father. I could 
 wish that the time and place were more appropriate, 
 but the Fates are against it. We await your answer. 
 Be it what it may, I, at least, will abide by it." 
 
 As I looked at her standing there in all her beauty, 
 the jewels in her hair glittering in the bright moon- 
 light, their sparkle half hidden by the gauzy veil which 
 covered her head, looking so stately in the folds of her 
 creamy silks, I felt I could face dangers unknown 
 for her sweet sake. And I confess that a tremor of 
 apprehension ran through me. Had I lost her by 
 my quixotic proceeding? But the next moment I 
 despised myself for the unworthy thought. 
 
 Sir Michael turned to her, and, in a voice trembling 
 with rage, exclaimed : 
 
 "Mary, I forbid you to reply to the insulting 
 proposal of this footpad who comes to demand you at 
 the muzzle of his pistol. Whatever relations you may 
 have had with this gentleman, this outlaw, I know 
 nothing of. Whatever they may have been I forgive 
 them. But do not disgrace yourself by giving ear to 
 the words of this man who is dead alike to all feelings 
 of justice or honour. Come ; let us go, and have done 
 with this farce." 
 
 She made no movement to obey, but placed her 
 hand in mine. 
 
 " Father," she said simply, " I love him." 
 
 " Shameless girl," he cried furiously. " I forbid 
 you to have anything to say to this wretch. He a 
 spy, a low-bred scoundrel, whom nobody knows." 
 
 " I am the son of the Grdsach whose lands you 
 hold," I answered proudly. 
 
 With a yell of rage he pointed a pistol at my breast : 
 
 " You — you, one of the accursed brood," he snarled. 
 
 But with a cry my beautiful Mary threw herself 
 before me, shielding me with her body. Sir Michael's 
 
230 A SWORDSMAN 
 
 hand dropped to his side. She stretched out her 
 hands appealingly to him. 
 
 " Father," she cried, " I have been a dutiful 
 daughter to you. I have obeyed you in everything, 
 but I cannot obey you in this. My heart is given to 
 him." 
 
 For a long time he stood with his head bowed down. 
 Then he said hoarsely ; 
 
 "Go! go! away out of my sight. You are no 
 longer daughter of mine. Go with your wretched 
 outlaw ! Go ! ere I am tempted to empty my pistol 
 into his vile body." 
 
 She threw her white arms round his neck with a cry 
 of anguish. 
 
 *' Father, father," she whispered piteously, "you 
 will not send me from you like this. Only one good- 
 night kiss to carry in my memory." 
 
 And then I saw this Williamite undertaker, this 
 hard-drinking Sasanach, this boicin whom 1 had 
 despised, strain her convulsively to his breast, while 
 he rained kisses on her upturned face. And as I 
 looked a feeling of respect for him grew up within 
 me. At last, as if ashamed of his weakness, he freed 
 himself from her clinging arms and turned to me. 
 
 " Sirrah, you have conquered," he said, " you have 
 stolen my daughter from me. I had other aims for 
 her than to be the bride of an outlaw. Go I I cannot 
 say more to my daughter's lover." 
 
 I bowed. I had grown to honour this usurper of 
 my father's patrimony within the last few minutes. 
 He had risen to a height of self-denial of which I did 
 not think him capable. 
 
 " Sir Michael," I said, " your daughter is safe in 
 my keeping." 
 
 Then I sought my horse. 
 
 A groan caught my ear. It came from the unfor- 
 tunate Jones, who was leaning against the coach for- 
 gotten in the tension of the last few moments. He 
 was trying to stanch the blood which rippled slowly 
 from his wounded arm. To him, even, I could afford 
 
OF THE BRIGADE 231 
 
 to be generous. In spite of his hoarse protests I 
 roughly bound up the wound, and thus left him. 
 
 With the queenly head of my cailin donn pillowed 
 on my breast, my arm encircling her, we galloped 
 away. Once I looked back, and my heart went out 
 to that silent man standing there alone, gazing after 
 us. After all, rough adventurer, rude riever that he 
 was, he had loved her. Silently I registered a vow 
 that never through me should come sorrow to this 
 tender nestling of his who had come to me in all her 
 glorious trust and confidence. 
 
 Very fair and winsome she looked as an hour later 
 we stood before the white-haired old priest in the 
 fisherman's little cottage, and heard the words which 
 made us one. Very proud and happy standing there 
 by my side in the creamy silk and soft laces which she 
 had worn to the ball, little knowing that ere the morn- 
 ing dawned it would be her bridal robe. 
 
 The first flush of the dawn was breaking through 
 the eastern clouds as our little vessel, her full flight of 
 "wild geese " aboard, leaped forward on her course, 
 her white sails spread to the freshening breeze. 
 
 Long and silently we gazed at the fast receding 
 shores of the homeland. All around us was the 
 loneliness of the mighty deep. Yonder the ** ring of 
 day '* v/as widening and ever widening, driving away 
 the shadows of the sullen night. 
 
 Stooping, I murmured in her ear: 
 
 ** A mhuirnin, mhuirnin, have you any regret? '* 
 
 She nestled closer to me, and looked up into my 
 face. 
 
 **Not while you are near, PiaraS,*' she whispered 
 softly. 
 
 And then I bent and kissed her. 
 
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