Gallantry 
 

 BOOKS by MR. CABELL 
 
 Biography: 
 
 \ BEYOND LIFE 
 J FIGURES OF EARTH 
 
 DOMNEI 
 
 CHIVALRY 
 I JURGEN 
 
 THE LINE OF LOVE 
 I THE HIGH PLACE 
 I GALLANTRY 
 I THE CERTAIN HOUR 
 
 THE CORDS OF VANITY 
 
 FROM THE HIDDEN WAY 
 JTHE RIVET IN GRANDFATHER S NECK 
 ITHE EAGLE S SHADOW 
 !THE CREAM OF THE JEST 
 
 Scholia: 
 
 THE LINEAGE OF LICHFIELD 
 
 TABOO 
 
 JOSEPH HERGESHEIMER 
 
 THE JEWEL MERCHANTS 
 
 JURGEN AND THE LAW 
 
 (Edited by Guy Holt) 
 
Gallantry 
 
 Dizain des Fetes Galantes 
 
 By 
 JAMES BRANCH CABELL 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 
 LOUIS UNTERMEYER 
 
 "Half in masquerade, playing the drawing-room or 
 garden comedy of life, these persons have upon them, 
 not less than the landscape among the accidents of 
 which they group themselves with fittingness, a 
 certain light that we should seek for in vain upon 
 anything real." 
 
 ROBERT M. McBRIDE G> COMPANY 
 NEW YORK 1924 
 
Revised Edition, 
 Copyright, 1922, by 
 JAMES BRANCH CABELL 
 
 Second Printing 
 March, 1924 
 
 Printed in the 
 United States of America 
 
 ,.0-7 
 
 Published, June, 1922 
 
TO 
 
 JAMES ROBINSON BRANCH 
 
 THIS VOLUME, SINCE IT TREATS OF GALLANTRY, IS 
 
 DEDICATED, AS BOTH IN LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 AN EXPONENT OF THE WORD S 
 
 HIGHEST MEANING 
 
 "A brutish man knoweth not, neither doth a fool 
 understand this. . . . Shall the throne of iniquity 
 have fellowship with Thee, which frameth mischief 
 by a law?" 
 
Introduction 
 
 THESE paragraphs, dignified by the revised edition 
 of Gallantry and spuriously designated An Intro 
 duction, are nothing more than a series of notes 
 and haphazard discoveries in preparation of a thesis. 
 That thesis, if it is ever written, will bear a title something 
 academically like The Psychogenesis of a Poet; or Cabell 
 the Masquerader. For it is in this guise sometimes self- 
 declared, sometimes self -concealed, but always as the per 
 sistent visionary that the author of some of the finest 
 prose of our day has given us the key with which (to 
 lapse into the jargon of verse) he has unlocked his heart. 
 On the technical side alone, it is easy to establish 
 Cabell s poetic standing. There are, first of all, the quan 
 tity of original rhymes that are scattered through the 
 dozen volumes which Cabell has latterly (and signifi 
 cantly) classified as Biography. Besides these interjec 
 tions which do duty as mottoes, chapter-headings, tail 
 pieces, dedications, interludes and sometimes relevant 
 songs, there is the volume of seventy-five "adaptations" 
 in verse, From the Hidden Way, published in 1916. 
 Here Cabell, even in his most natural role, declines to 
 show his face and amuses himself with a new set of 
 masks labelled Alessandro de Medici, Antoine Riczi, 
 Nicolas de Caen, Theodore Passerat and other fabulous 
 minnesingers whose verses were created only in the mind 
 of Cabell. It has pleased him to confuse others besides 
 
 vii 
 
viii AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 the erudite reviewer of the Boston Transcript by quoting 
 the first lines of the non-existent originals in Latin, Ital 
 ian, Provengal thus making his skilful ballades, sestinas 
 and the less mediaeval narratives part of a remarkably 
 elaborate and altogether successful hoax. 
 
 And, as this masquerade of obscure Parnassians be 
 trayed its creator, Cabell impelled by some fantastic 
 reticence sought for more subtle makeshifts to hide the 
 poet. The unwritten thesis, plunging abruptly into the 
 realm of analytical psychology, will detail the steps Cabell 
 has taken, as a result of early associative disappoint 
 ments, to repress or at least to disguise, the poet in him 
 self and it will disclose how he has failed. It will bur 
 row through the latest of his works and exhume his half- 
 buried experiments in rhyme, assonance and polyphony. 
 This part of the paper will examine Jurgen and call at 
 tention to the distorted sonnet printed as a prose soliloquy 
 on page 97 of that exquisite and ironic volume. It will 
 pass to the subsequent Figures of Earth and, after show 
 ing how the greater gravity of this volume is accompanied 
 by a greater profusion of poetry per se f it will unravel 
 the scheme of Cabell s fifteen essays in what might be 
 called contrapuntal prose. It will unscramble all the 
 rhymes screened in Manuel s monologue beginning on 
 page 294, quote the metrical innovations with rhymed 
 vowels on page 60, tabulate the hexameters that leap 
 from the solidly set paragraphs and rearrange the brilliant 
 fooling that opens the chapter "Magic of the Image 
 Makers." This last is in itself so felicitous a composite 
 of verse and criticism a passage incredibly overlooked 
 by the most meticulous of Cabell s glossarians that it 
 deserves a paper for itself. For here, set down prosai- 
 
AN INTRODUCTION ix 
 
 cally as "the unfinished Rune of the Blackbirds" are four 
 distinct parodies including two insidious burlesques of 
 Browning and Swinburne on a theme which is familiar 
 to us to-day in les mots justes of Mother Goose. "It is," 
 explains Freydis, after the thaumaturgists have finished, 
 "an experimental incantation in that it is a bit of unfin 
 ished magic for which the proper words have not yet 
 been found: but between now and a while they will be 
 stumbled on, and then this rune will live perpetually." 
 And thus the poet, speaking through the mouth-piece of 
 Freydis, discourses on the power of words and, in one 
 of Cabell s most eloquent chapters, crystallizes that high 
 mood, presenting the case for poetry as it has been 
 pleaded by few of her most fervid advocates. 
 
 Here the thesis will stop quoting and argue its main 
 contention from another angle. It will consider the au 
 thor in a larger and less technical sense: disclosing his 
 characters, his settings, his plots, even the entire genea 
 logical plan of his works, to be the design of a poet rather 
 than a novelist. The persons of Cabell s imagination 
 move to no haphazard strains; they create their own 
 music. And, like a set of modulated motifs, they combine 
 to form a richer and more sonorous pattern. With its 
 interrelation of figures and interweaving of themes, the 
 Cabellian "Biography" assumes the solidity and shapeli 
 ness of a fugue, a composition in which all the voices 
 speak with equal precision and recurring clarity. 
 
 And what, the diagnostician may inquire, of the char 
 acters themselves? They are, it will be answered, moti 
 vated by pity and irony; the tolerant humor, the sym 
 pathetic and not too distant regard of their Olympian 
 designer agitate them so sensitively that we seldom see 
 
AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 what strings are twitched. These puppets seem to act 
 of their own conviction possibly because their director 
 is careful not to have too many convictions of his own. 
 It may have been pointed out before this that there are 
 no undeviating villains in his masques and, as many an 
 indignant reviewer has expostulated, few untarnished 
 heroes. Cabell s, it will be perceived, is a frankly pagan 
 poetry. It has no texts with which to discipline beauty ; 
 it lacks moral fervor; it pretends to no divinity of dog 
 matism. The image-maker is willing to let his creatures 
 ape their living models by fluctuating between shifting 
 conventions and contradictory ideals ; he leaves to a more 
 positive Author the dubious pleasure of drawing a daily 
 line between vice and virtue. If Cabell pleads at all, he 
 pleads with us not to repudiate a Villon or a Marlowe 
 while we are reviling the imperfect man in a perfect 
 poet. "What is man, that his welfare be considered ?" 
 questions Cabell, paraphrasing Scripture, "an ape who 
 chatters to himself of kinship with the archangels while 
 filthily he digs for groundnuts. . . . Yet do I perceive 
 that this same man is a maimed god. . . . He is under 
 penalty condemned to compute eternity with false weights 
 and to estimate infinity with a yardstick and he very 
 often does it." 
 
 This, the thesis will contend, is the only possible atti 
 tude to the mingled apathy and abandon of existence 
 and it is, in fine, the poetic attitude. Romantic it is, with 
 out question, and I imagine Cabell would be the last to 
 cavil at the implication. For, mocked by a contemptuous 
 silence gnawing beneath the howling energy of life, what 
 else is there for the poet but the search for some miracle 
 of belief, some assurance in a world of illimitable per- 
 
AN INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 plexities? It is the wish to attain this dream which is 
 more real than reality that guides the entire Cabell epos 
 "and it is this will that stirs in us to have the creatures 
 of earth and the affairs of earth, not as they are, but as 
 they ought to be. " 
 
 Such a romantic vision, which concludes that glowing 
 testament, Beyond Life, is the shining thread that binds 
 the latest of Cabell s novels with the earliest of his short 
 stories. It is, in effect, one tale he is telling, a tale in 
 which Poictesme and the more local Lichfield are, for 
 all their topographical dissimilarities, the same place, and 
 all his people interchangeable symbols of the changeless 
 desires of men. Whether the allegory is told in the 
 terms of Gallantry with its perfumed lights, its deliberate 
 artifice and its technique of badinage, or presented in 
 the more high-flying mood of Chivalry with its ready 
 passions and readier rhetoric, it prefigures the subse 
 quent pageant in which the victories might so easily be 
 mistaken for defeats. In this procession, amid a singu 
 larly ordered riot of color, the figure of man moves, none 
 too confidently but with stirring fortitude, to an un 
 realized end. Here, stumbling through the mazes of a 
 code, in the habiliments of Ormskirk or de Soyecourt, 
 he passes from the adventures of the mind (Kennaston 
 in The Cream of the Jest, Charteris in Beyond Life) 
 through the adventures of the flesh (Jurgen) to the 
 darker adventures of the spirit (Manuel in Figures of 
 Earth). Even this Gallantry, the most candidly super 
 ficial of Cabell s works, is alive with a vigor of imagina 
 tion and irony. It is not without significance that the 
 motto on the new title-page is: "Half in masquerade, 
 playing the drawing-room or garden comedy of life, these 
 
xii AN INTRODUCTION 
 
 persons have upon them, not less than the landscape 
 among the accidents of which they group themselves, a 
 certain light that we should seek for in vain upon any 
 thing real." 
 
 The genealogically inclined will be happy to discover 
 that Gallantry, for all its revulsion from reality, deals 
 with the perpetuated life of Manuel in a strangely al 
 tered milieu. The rest of us will be quicker to compre 
 hend how subtly this volume takes its peculiar place in its 
 author s record of struggling dreams, how, beneath a 
 surface covered with political finery and sentimental 
 bric-a-brac, the quest goes on, stubbornly and often stu 
 pidly, in a forgotten world made suddenly animate and as 
 real as our own. 
 
 And this, the thesis will conclude, is because Cabell 
 is not as much a masquerader as he imagines himself 
 to be. None but a visionary could wear so constantly 
 upon his sleeve the desire "to write perfectly of beautiful 
 happenings." None but the poet, shaken with the 
 strength of his vision, could cry to-day, "It is only by 
 preserving faith in human dreams that we may, after all, 
 perhaps some day make them come true." For poetry, 
 to which all literature aspires, is not the shadow of re- 
 ality but the image of perfection, the light of disembodied 
 beauty toward which creation gropes. And that poetic 
 consciousness is the key to the complex and half -con 
 cealed art of James Branch Cabell. 
 
 Louis UNTERMEYER. 
 
 New York City, 
 April, 1922. 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY xv 
 
 THE PROLOGUE xxi 
 
 I SIMON S HOUR 3 
 
 II LOVE AT MARTINMAS 39 
 
 III THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 63 
 
 IV THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 91 
 
 V ACTORS ALL Ill 
 
 VI APRIL S MESSAGE 139 
 
 VII IN THE SECOND APRIL 171 
 
 VIII HEART OF GOLD 247 
 
 IX THE SCAPEGOATS 275 
 
 X THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 303 
 
 LOVE S ALUMNI : THE AFTERPIECE ... 333 
 
 THE EPILOGUE 341 
 
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY 
 TO MRS. GRUNDY 
 
 MADAM, It is surely fitting that a book which 
 harks back to the manners of the second George 
 should have its dedication and its patron. And 
 these comedies claim naturally your protection, since it 
 likewise appears a custom of that era for the poet to 
 dedicate his book to his most influential acquaintance and 
 the one least likely to value it. 
 
 Indeed, it is as proper that the plaudits of great per 
 sons be reserved for great performances as it is undeni 
 able these 
 
 tiny pictures of that tiny time 
 Aim little at the lofty and sublime. 
 
 Yet cognoscenti still esteem it an error in the accom 
 plished Shakespeare that he introduced a game of bil 
 liards into his portrayal of Queen Cleopatra s court ; and 
 the impropriety had been equal had I linked the extreme 
 of any passion with an age and circle wherein abandon 
 ment to the emotions was adjudged bucolic. Nay, Ma 
 dam, the Eumenides were very terrifying at Delphi, no 
 doubt, but deck them with paint, patch, and panniers, 
 send them howling among the bew monde on the Pan 
 tiles, and they are only figures of fun; nor may, in rea 
 son, the high woes of a second Lear, or of a new 
 Prometheus, be adequately lighted by the flambeaux of 
 Louis Quinze. 
 
 XV 
 
xvi THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY 
 
 Conceive, then, the overture begun, and fear not, if 
 the action of the play demand a lion, but that he shall 
 be a beast of Peter Quince s picking. The ladies shall 
 not be frighted, for our chief comedians will enact mod 
 ish people of a time when gallantry prevailed. 
 
 Now the essence of gallantry, I take it, was to accept 
 the pleasures of life leisurely and its inconveniences with 
 a shrug. As requisites, a gallant person will, of course, 
 be "amorous, but not too constant, have a pleasant voice, 
 and possess a talent for love-letters." He will always 
 bear in mind that in love-affairs success is less the 
 Ultima Thule of desire than its coup de grace, and he 
 will be careful never to admit the fact, especially to him 
 self. He will value ceremony, but rather for its comeli 
 ness than for its utility, as one esteeming the lily, say, to 
 be a more applaudable bulb than the onion. He will 
 prink; and he will be at his best after sunset. He will 
 dare to acknowledge the shapeliness of a thief s leg, to 
 contend that the commission of murder does not neces 
 sarily impair the agreeableness of the assassin s conver 
 sation ; and to insist that at bottom God is kindlier than 
 the genteel would regard as rational. He will, in fine, 
 sin on sufficient provocation, and repent within the mo 
 ment, quite sincerely, and be not unconscionably surprised 
 when he repeats the progression : and he will consider the 
 world with a smile of toleration, and his own doings with 
 a smile of honest amusement, and Heaven with a smile 
 that is not distrustful. 
 
 This particular attitude toward life may have its mer 
 its, but it is not conducive to meticulous morality ; there 
 fore, in advance, I warn you that my Dramatis Persona 
 will in their display of the cardinal virtues evince a cer- 
 
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY xvii 
 
 tain parsimony. Theirs were, in effect, not virtuous 
 days. And the great man who knew these times au 
 fond, and loved them, and wrote of them as no other man 
 may ever hope to do, has said of these same times, with 
 perfect truth: 
 
 "Fiddles sing all through them; wax-lights, fine 
 dresses, fine jokes, fine plate, fine equipages, glitter and 
 sparkLe : never was there such a brilliant, jigging, smirk 
 ing Vanity Fair. But wandering through that city of the 
 dead, that dreadfully selfish time, through those godless 
 intrigues and feasts, through those crowds, pushing, and 
 eager, and struggling, rouged, and lying, and fawn 
 ing, I have wanted some one to be friends with. I 
 have said, Show me some good person about that Court; 
 find me, among those selfish courtiers, those dissolute 
 gay people, some one being that I can love and regard." 
 And Thackeray confesses that, for all his research, he 
 could not find anybody living irreproachably, at this espe 
 cial period. . . . 
 
 Where a giant fails one may in reason hesitate to es 
 say. I present, then, people who, as people normally do, 
 accepted their times and made the best of them, since the 
 most estimable needs conform a little to the custom of 
 his day, whether it be Caractacus painting himself sky- 
 blue or Galileo on his knees at Santa Maria. And ac 
 cordingly, many of my comedians will lie when it seems 
 advisable, and will not haggle over a misdemeanor when 
 there is anything to be gained by it; at times their vir 
 tues will get them what they want, and at times their 
 vices, and at other times they will be neither punished 
 nor rewarded; in fine, Madam, they will be just human 
 beings stumbling through illogical lives with precisely 
 
xviii THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY 
 
 that lack of common-sense which so pre-eminently dis 
 tinguishes all our neighbors from ourselves. 
 
 For the life that moved in old Manuel of Poictesme 
 finds hereinafter in his descendants, in these later Allon- 
 bys and Bulmers and Heleighs and Floyers, a new milieu 
 to conform and curb that life in externes rather than in 
 essentials. What this life made of chivalrous conditions 
 has elsewhere been recorded: with its renewal in gallant 
 circumstances, the stage is differently furnished and 
 lighted, the costumes are dissimilar; but the comedy, I 
 think, works toward the same denouement, and certainly 
 the protagonist remains unchanged. My protagonist is 
 still the life of Manuel, as this life was perpetuated in 
 his descendants; and my endeavor is (still) to show you 
 what this life made (and omitted to make) of its tenancy 
 of earth. Tis a drama enactable in any setting. 
 
 Yet the comedy of gallantry has its conventions. 
 There must be quite invaluable papers to be stolen and 
 juggled with; an involuntary marriage either threatened 
 or consummated; elopements, highwaymen, and des 
 patch-boxes ; and a continual indulgence in soliloquy and 
 eavesdropping. Everybody must pretend to be some 
 body else, and young girls, in particular, must go dis 
 guised as boys, amid much cut-and-thrust work, both 
 ferric and verbal. For upon the whole, the comedy of 
 gallantry tends to unfold itself in dialogue, and yet more 
 dialogue, with just the notice of a change of scene or a 
 brief stage direction inserted here and there. All these 
 conventions, Madam, I observe. 
 
 A word more: the progress of an author who alter 
 nates, in turn, between fact and his private fancies (like 
 unequal crutches) cannot in reason be undisfigured by 
 
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY 
 
 false steps. Therefore it is judicious to confess, Ma 
 dam, that more than once I have pieced the opulence of 
 my subject with the poverty of my inventions. Indis 
 putably, to thrust words into a dead man s mouth is in 
 the ultimate as unpardonable as the axiomatic offence 
 of stealing the pennies from his eyes ; yet if I have some 
 times erred in my surmise at what Ormskirk or de 
 Puysange or Louis de Soyecourt really said at certain 
 moments of their lives, the misstep was due, Madam, 
 less to malevolence than to inability to replevin their su 
 perior utterance; and the accomplished shade of Garen- 
 don, at least, I have not travestied, unless it were 
 through some too prudent item 1 of excision. 
 
 Remains but to subscribe myself in the approved 
 formula of dedicators as, 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 Your ladyship s most humble and most obedient 
 
 servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
,. 
 
 THE PROLOGUE 
 
 SPOKEN BY LADY ALLONBY, WHO ENTERS IN A FLURRY 
 
 4 * 
 
 The author bade me come Lud, I protest I 
 He bade me come and I forget the rest. 
 But tis no matter ; he s an arrant fool 
 That ever bade a woman speak by rule. 
 
 Besides, his Prologue was, at best, dull stuff, 
 And of dull writing we have, sure, enough. 
 A book will do when you ve a vacant minute, 
 But, la! who cares what is, and isn t, in it? 
 
 And since I m but the Prologue of a book, 
 What I ve omitted all will overlook, 
 And owe me for it, too, some gratitude, 
 Seeing in reason it cannot be good 
 Whose author has as much but now confessed, 
 For, Who d excel when few can make a test 
 Betwixt indifferent writing and the best? 
 He said but now. 
 
 And I : La, why excel, 
 When mediocrity does quite as well? 
 Tis women buy the books, and read em, say, 
 What time a person nods, en negligee, 
 And in default of gossip, cards, or dance, 
 Resolves t incite a nap with some romance. 
 
 The fool replied in verse, I think he said 
 Twas verses the ingenious Dryden made, 
 And trust twill save me from entire disgrace 
 To cite em in his foolish Prologue s place. 
 xxi 
 
xxii THE PROLOGUE 
 
 Yet, scattered here and there, I some behold, 
 Who can discern the tinsel from the gold: 
 To these he writes; and if by them allowed, 
 Tis their prerogative to rule the crowd, 
 For he more fears, like a presuming man, 
 Their votes who cannot judge, than theirs who can. 
 
SIMON S HOUR 
 As Played at Stornoway Crag, March 25, 1750 
 
 "You re a woman one to whom Heaven gave beauty, 
 when it grafted roses on a briar. You are the reflection 
 of Heaven in a pond, and he that leaps at you is sunk. 
 You were all white, a sheet of lovely spotless paper, 
 when you first were born; but you are to be scrawled 
 and blotted by every goose s quill" 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 LORD ROKESLE, a loose-living, impoverished nobleman, 
 
 and loves Lady Allonby. 
 SIMON ORTS, Vicar of Heriz Magna, a debauched fellow, 
 
 and Rokesle s creature. 
 PUNSHON, servant to Rokesle. 
 
 LADY ALLONBY, a pleasure-loving, luxurious woman, a 
 widow, and rich. 
 
 SCENE 
 The Mancini Chamber at Stornoway Crag, on Usk. 
 
 V 
 
SIMON S HOUR 
 
 PROEM: The Age and a Product of It 
 
 WE begin at a time when George the Second was 
 permitting Ormskirk and the Pelhams to 
 govern England, and the Jacobites had not yet 
 ceased to hope for another Stuart Restoration, and Mr. 
 Washington was a promising young surveyor in the most 
 loyal colony of Virginia; when abroad the Marquise de 
 Pompadour ruled France and all its appurtenances, and 
 the King of Prussia and the Empress Maria Theresa had, 
 between them, set entire Europe by the ears ; when at 
 home the ladies, if rumor may be credited, were less un 
 approachable than their hoop-petticoats caused them to 
 appear, 1 and gentlemen wore swords, and some of the 
 more reckless bloods were daringly beginning to discard 
 the Ramillie-tie and the pigtail for their own hair ; when 
 politeness was obligatory, and morality a matter of taste, 
 and when well-bred people went about the day s *work 
 with an ample leisure and very few scruples. In fine, 
 we begin toward the end of March, in the year 1750, 
 when Lady Allonby and her brother, Mr. Henry Heleigh, 
 of Trevor s Folly, were the guests of Lord Rokesle, at 
 Stornoway Crtfg, on Usk. 
 
 As any person of ton could have informed you, Anas- 
 tasia Allonby was the widow (by his second marriage) 
 
 1 "Oft have we known that sevenfold fence to fail, 
 
 Though stiff with hoops, and armed with ribs of whale." 
 3 
 
GALLANTRY 
 
 of Lord Stephen Allonby, the Marquis of Falmouth s 
 younger brother ; and it was conceded by the most sedate 
 that Lord Stephen s widow, in consideration of her liberal 
 jointure, possessed inordinate comeliness. 
 
 She was tall for a woman. Her hair, to-night unpow- 
 dered, had the color of amber and something, too, of its 
 glow; her eyes, though not profound, were large and in 
 hue varied, as the light fell or her emotions shifted, 
 through a wide gamut of blue shades. But it was her 
 mouth you remembered : the fulness and brevity of it, the 
 deep indentation of its upper lip, the curves of it and its 
 vivid crimson these roused you to wildish speculation as 
 to its probable softness when Lady Allonby and Fate 
 were beyond ordinary lenient. Pink was the color most 
 favorable to her complexion, and this she wore to-night; 
 the gown was voluminous, with a profusion of lace, and 
 afforded everybody an ample opportunity to appraise her 
 neck and bosom. Lady Allonby had no reason to be 
 ashamed of either, and the- last mode in these matters was 
 not prudish. 
 
 To such a person, enters Simon Orts, chaplain in or 
 dinary to Lord Rokesle, and Vicar of Heriz Magna, one 
 of Lord Rokesle s livings. 
 
 "Now of a truth," said Simon Orts, "that is curious 
 undeniably that is curious." 
 
 He stayed at the door for a moment staring back into 
 the ill-lit corridor. Presently he shut the door, and came 
 forward toward the fireplace. 
 
 Lady Allonby, half-hidden in the depths of the big 
 
SIMON S HOUR 
 
 chair beside the chimney-piece, a book in her lap, looked 
 up inquiringly. "What is curious, Mr. Orts ?" 
 
 The clergyman stood upon the hearth, warming his 
 hands, and diffusing an odor of tobacco and stale alcohol. 
 "Faith, that damned rascal I beg your pardon, Anas- 
 tasia; our life upon Usk is not conducive to a mincing 
 nicety of speech. That rascal Punshon made some diffi 
 culty over admitting me ; you might have taken him for 
 a sentinel, with Stornoway in a state of siege. He ruffled 
 me, and I don t like it," Simon Orts said, reflectively, 
 looking down upon her. "No, I don t like it. Where s 
 your brother?" he demanded on a sudden. 
 
 "Harry and Lord Rokesle are at cards, I believe. And 
 Mrs. Morfit has retired to her apartments with one of her 
 usual headaches, so that I have been alone these two 
 hours. You visit Stornoway somewhat late, Mr. Orts," 
 Anastasia Allonby added, without any particular conceal 
 ment of the fact that she considered his doing so a 
 nuisance. 
 
 He jerked his thumb ceilingward. "The cloth is at 
 any rascal s beck and call. Old Holies, my Lord s man, 
 is dying up yonder, and the whim seized him to have a 
 clergyman in. God knows why, for it appears to me that 
 one knave might very easily make his way to hell without 
 having another knave to help him. And Holies? eh, 
 well, from what I myself know of him, the rogue is triply 
 damned." His mouth puckered as he set about unbutton 
 ing his long, rain-spattered cloak, which, with his big hat, 
 he flung aside upon a table. "Gad!" said Simon Orts, 
 "we are most of us damned on Usk; and that is why I 
 don t like it " He struck his hand against his thigh. 
 "I don t like it, Anastasia." 
 
GALLANTRY 
 
 "You must pardon me," she languidly retorted, "but I 
 was never good at riddles." 
 
 He turned and glanced about the hall, debating. Lady 
 Allonby meanwhile regarded him, as she might have 
 looked at a frog or a hurtless snake. A small, slim, 
 anxious man, she found him; always fidgeting, always 
 placating some one, but never without a covert sneer. 
 The fellow was venomous; his eyes only were honest, 
 for even while his lips were about their wheedling, these 
 eyes flashed malice at you ; and their shifting was so un- 
 remittent that afterward you recalled them as an ab 
 solute shining which had not any color, On Usk and 
 thereabouts they said it was the glare from within of his 
 damned soul, already at white heat; but they were a 
 plain-spoken lot on Usk. To-night Simon Orts was all 
 in black; and his hair, too, and his gross eyebrows were 
 black, and well-nigh to the cheek-bones of his clean 
 shaven countenance the thick beard showed black through 
 the skin. 
 
 Now he kept silence for a lengthy interval, his arms 
 crossed on his breast, gnawing meanwhile at the finger 
 nails of his left hand in an unattractive fashion he had of 
 meditating. When words came it was in a torrent. 
 
 "I will read you my riddle, then. You are a widow, 
 rich; as women go, you are not so unpleasant to look at 
 as most of em. If it became a clergyman to dwell upon 
 such matters, I would say that your fleshly habitation is 
 too fine for its tenant, since I know you to be a good- 
 for-nothing jilt. However, you are God s handiwork, 
 and doubtless He had His reasons for constructing you. 
 My Lord is poor ; last summer at Tunbridge you declined 
 to marry him. I am in his confidence, you observe. 
 
SIMON S HOUR 
 
 He took your decision in silence ware Rokesle when 
 he is quiet! Eh, I know the man, tisn t for nothing 
 that these ten years past I have studied his whims, 
 pampered his vanity, lied to him, toadied him ! You ad 
 mire my candor? faith, yes, I am very candid. I am 
 Rokesle s hanger-on ; he took me out of the gutter, and in 
 my fashion I am grateful. And you? Anastasia, had 
 you treated me more equitably fifteen years ago, I would 
 have gone to the stake for you, singing ; now I don t value 
 you the flip of a farthing. But, for old time s sake, I 
 warn you. You and your brother are Rokesle s guests 
 on Usk! Harry Heleigh 1 can handle a sword, I grant 
 you, but you are on Usk ! And Mrs. Morfit is here to 
 play propriety propriety on Usk, God save the mark! 
 And besides, Rokesle can twist his sister about his little 
 finger, as the phrase runs. And I find sentinels at the 
 door! I don t like it, Anastasia. In his way Rokesle 
 loves you; more than that, you are an ideal match to 
 retrieve his battered fortunes; and the name of my 
 worthy patron, I regret to say, is not likely ever to em 
 bellish the Calendar of Saints." 
 
 Simon Orts paused with a short laugh. The woman 
 had risen to her feet, her eyes widening and a thought 
 troubled, though her lips smiled contemptuously. 
 
 "La, I should have comprehended that this late in the 
 evening you would be in no condition to converse with 
 ladies. Believe me, though, Mr. Orts, I would be glad 
 to credit your warning to officious friendliness, were it 
 
 1 Henry Heleigh, thirteenth Earl of Brudenel, who succeeded 
 his cousin the twelfth Earl in 1759, and lived to a great age. 
 Bavois, writing in 1797, calls him "a very fine, strong old gentle 
 man." 
 
GALLANTRY 
 
 not that the cwdor about your person compels me to attri 
 bute it to gin." 
 
 "Oh, I have been drinking," he conceded ; "I have been 
 drinking with a most commendable perseverance for these 
 fifteen years. But at present I am far from drunk." 
 Simon Orts took a turn about the hall; in an instant he 
 faced her with an odd, almost tender smile. "You 
 adorable, empty-headed, pink-and-white fool," said Simon 
 Orts, "what madness induced you to come to Usk ? You 
 know that Rokesle wants you; you know that you don t 
 mean to marry him. Then why come to Usk? Do you 
 know who is king in this sea- washed scrap of earth? 
 Rokesle. German George reigns yonder in England, but 
 here, in the Isle of Usk, Vincent Floyer is king. And it 
 is not precisely a convent that he directs. The men of 
 Usk, I gather, after ten years experience in the adminis 
 tering of spiritual consolation hereabouts" and his teeth 
 made their appearance in honor of the jest, "are part 
 fisherman, part smuggler, part pirate, and part devil. 
 Since the last ingredient predominates, they have no very 
 unreasonable apprehension of hell, and would cheerfully 
 invade it if Rokesle bade em do so. As I have pointed 
 out, my worthy patron is subject to the frailties of the 
 flesh. Oh, I am candid, for if you report me to his Lord 
 ship I shall lie out of it. I have had practice enough to 
 do it handsomely. But Rokesle do you not know what 
 Rokesle is ?" 
 
 The Vicar of Heriz Magna would have gone on, but 
 Lady Allonby had interrupted, her cheeks flaming. "Yes, 
 yes," she cried; "I know him to be a worthy gentle 
 man. Tis true I could not find it in my heart to marry 
 him, yet I am proud to rank Lord Rokesle among my 
 
SIMON S HOUR 
 
 friends." She waved her hand toward the chimney- 
 piece, where hung and hangs to-day, the sword of 
 Aluric Floyer, the founder of the house of Rokesle. "Do 
 you see that old sword, Mr. Orts ? The man who wielded 
 it long ago was a gallant gentleman and a stalwart cap 
 tain. And my Lord, as he told me but on Thursday 
 afternoon, hung it there that he might always have in 
 mind the fact that he bore the name of this man, and 
 must bear it meritoriously. My Lord is a gentleman. 
 La, believe me, if you, too, were a gentleman, Mr. Orts, 
 you would understand! But a gentleman is not a tale 
 bearer; a gentleman does not defame any person behind 
 his back, far less the person to whom he owes his daily 
 bread." 
 
 "So he has been gulling you?" said Simon Orts; then 
 he added quite inconsequently : "I had not thought any 
 thing you could say would hurt me. I discover I was 
 wrong. Perhaps I am not a gentleman. Faith, no ; I am 
 only a shabby drunkard, a disgrace to my cloth, am I not, 
 Anastasia? Accordingly, I fail to perceive what old 
 Aluric Floyer has to do with the matter in hand. He 
 was reasonably virtuous, I suppose ; putting aside a disas 
 trous appetite for fruit, so was Adam : but, viewing their 
 descendants, I ruefully admit that in each case the strain 
 has deteriorated." 
 
 There was a brief silence; then Lady Allonby ob 
 served : "Perhaps I was discourteous. I ask your for 
 giveness, Mr. Orts. And now, if you will pardon the 
 suggestion, I think you had better go to your dying 
 parishioner." 
 
 But she had touched the man to the quick. "I am a 
 drunkard ; who made me so? Who was it used to cuddle 
 
10 GALLANTRY 
 
 me with so many soft words and kisses yes, kisses, my 
 Lady! till a wealthier man came a-wooing, and then 
 flung me aside like an old shoe?" 
 
 This drenched her cheeks with crimson. "I think we 
 had better not refer to that boy-and-girl affair. You 
 cannot blame me for your debauched manner of living. 
 I found before it was too late that I did not love you. 
 I was only a girl, and twas natural that at first I should 
 be mistaken in my fancies." 
 
 The Vicar had caught her by each wrist. "You don t 
 understand, of course. You never understood, for you 
 have no more heart than one of those pink-and-white 
 bisque figures that you resemble. You don t love me, 
 and therefore I will go to the devil may not be an all- 
 rational deduction, but tis very human logic. You don t 
 understand that, do you, Anastasia? You don t under 
 stand how when one is acutely miserable one remembers 
 that at the bottom of a wineglass or even at the bottom 
 of a tumbler of gin, one may come upon happiness, or 
 at least upon acquiescence to whatever the niggling gods 
 may send. You don t understand how one remembers, 
 when the desired woman is lost, that there are other 
 women whose lips are equally red and whose hearts are 
 tenderer and yes, whose virtue is less exigent. No; 
 women never understand these things : and in any event, 
 you would not understand, because you are only an ador 
 able pink-and-white fool." 
 
 "Oh, oh !" she cried, struggling. "How dare you ? You 
 insult me, you coward !" 
 
 "Well, you can always comfort yourself with the re 
 flection that it scarcely matters what a sot like me may 
 elect to say. And, since you understand me now no more 
 
SIMON S HOUR 11 
 
 than formerly, Anastasia, I tell you that the lover turned 
 adrift may well profit by the example of his predecessors. 
 Other lovers have been left forsaken, both in trousers and 
 in ripped petticoats ; and I have heard that when Chryseis 
 was reft away from Agamemnon, the anax andron made 
 himself tolerably comfortable with Briseis; and that, 
 when Theseus sneaked off in the night, Ariadne, after 
 having wept for a decent period, managed in the ultimate 
 to console herself with Theban Bacchus, which I sup 
 pose to be a courteous method of stating that the daughter 
 of Minos took to drink. So the forsaken lover has his 
 choice of consolation in wine or in that dearer danger, 
 woman. I have tried both, Anastasia. And I tell 
 you" 
 
 He dropped her hands as though they had been embers. 
 Lord Rokesle had come quietly into the hall. 
 
 "Why, what s this ?" Lord Rokesle demanded. "Simon, 
 you aren t making love to Lady Allonby, I hope? Fie, 
 man ! remember your cloth." 
 
 Simon Orts wheeled a different being, servile and 
 cringing. "Your Lordship is pleased to be pleasant. 
 Indeed, though, I fear that your ears must burn, sir, for 
 I was but now expatiating upon the manifold kindnesses 
 your Lordship has been so generous as to confer upon 
 your unworthy friend. I was admiring Lady Allonby s 
 ruffle, sir, Valenciennes, I take it, and very choice." 
 
 Lord Rokesle laughed. "So I am to thank you for 
 blowing my trumpet, am I ?" said Lord Rokesle. "Well, 
 you are not a bad fellow, Simon, so long as you are sober. 
 And now be off with you to Holies the rascal is dying, 
 they tell me. My luck, Simon! He made up a cravat 
 better than any one in the kingdom." 
 
12 GALLANTRY 
 
 "The ways of Providence are inscrutable," Simon Orts 
 considered; "and if Providence has in verity elected to 
 chasten your Lordship, doubtless it shall be, as anciently 
 in the case of Job the Patriarch, repaid by a recompense, 
 by a thousandfold recompense." And after a meaning 
 glance toward Lady Allonby, a glance that said : "I, 
 too, have a tongue," he was mounting the stairway to 
 the upper corridor when Lord Rokesle called to him. 
 
 "By my conscience! I forgot," said Lord Rokesle; 
 "don t leave Stornoway without seeing me again. I shall 
 want you by and by." 
 
 II 
 
 Lord Rokesle sat down upon the long, high-backed 
 bench, beside the fire, and facing Lady Allonby s arm 
 chair. 
 
 Neither he nor Lady Allonby spoke for a while. 
 
 In a sombre way Lord Rokesle was a handsome man, 
 and to-night, in brown and gold, very stately. His bear 
 ing savored faintly of the hidalgo; indeed, his mother was 
 a foreign woman, cast ashore on Usk, from a wrecked 
 Spanish vessel, and incontinently married by the despot 
 of the island. For her, Death had delayed his advent 
 unmercifully; but her reason survived the marriage by 
 two years only, and there were those familiar with the 
 late Lord Rpkesle s 1 peculiarities who considered that in 
 this, at least, the crazed lady was fortunate. Among 
 these gossips it was also esteemed a matter deserving 
 
 1 Born 1685, and accidentally killed by Sir Piers Sabiston in 
 1738; an accurate account of this notorious duellist, profligate, 
 charlatan and playwright is given in Ireson s Letters. 
 
SIMON S HOUR 13 
 
 comment that in the shipwrecks not infrequent about Usk 
 the women sometimes survived, but the men never. 
 
 Now Lord Rokesle regarded Lady Allonby, the while 
 that she displayed conspicuous interest in the play of the 
 flames. But by and by, "O vulgarity!" said Lady 
 Allonby. Tray endeavor to look a little more cheerful. 
 Positively, you are glaring at me like one of those dis 
 agreeable beggars one so often sees staring at bakery 
 windows/ 
 
 He smiled. "Do you remember what the Frenchman 
 wrote et pain ne voyent qu aux fenetres? There is not 
 an enormous difference between me and the tattered ras 
 cal of Chepe, for we both stare longingly at what we most 
 desire. And were I minded to hunt the simile to the foot 
 of the letter, I would liken your coquetry to the inter 
 vening window-pane, not easily broken through, but 
 very, very transparent, Anastasia." 
 
 "You are not overwhelmingly polite," she said, re 
 flectively; "but, then, I suppose, living in the country is 
 sure to damage a man s manners. Still, my dear Orson, 
 you smack too much of the forest." 
 
 "Anastasia," said Lord Rokesle, bending toward her, 
 "will you always be thus cruel ? Do you not understand 
 that in this world you are the only thing I care for ? You 
 think me a boor ; perhaps I am, and yet it rests with you, 
 my Lady, to make me what you will. For I love you. 
 Anastasia " 
 
 "Why, how delightful of you!" said she, languidly. 
 
 "It is not a matter for jesting. I tell you that I love 
 you." My Lord s color was rising. 
 
 But Lady Allonby yawned. "Your honor s most de 
 voted," she declared herself ; "still, you need not boast of 
 
14 GALLANTRY 
 
 your affection as if falling in love with me were an un 
 commonly difficult achievement. That, too, is scarcely 
 polite." 
 
 "For the tenth time I ask you will you marry me?" 
 said Lord Rokesle. 
 
 "Is t only the tenth time? Dear me, it seems like the 
 thousandth. Of course, I couldn t think of it. Heavens, 
 my Lord, how can you expect me to marry a man who 
 glares at me like that? Positively you look as ferocious 
 as the blackamoor in the tragedy, the fellow who smoth 
 ered his wife because she misplaced a handkerchief, you 
 remember." 
 
 Lord Rokesle had risen, and he paced the hall, as if 
 fighting down resentment. "I am no Othello," he said 
 at last ; "though, indeed, I think that the love I bear you 
 is of a sort which rarely stirs our English blood. Tis 
 not for nothing I am half -Spaniard. I warn you, Anas- 
 tasia, my love is a consuming blaze that will not pause 
 for considerations of policy nor even of honor. And you 
 madden me, Anastasia! To-day you hear my protesta 
 tions with sighs and glances and faint denials ; to-morrow 
 you have only taunts for me. Sometimes, I think, tis 
 hatred rather than love I bear you. Sometimes " He 
 clutched at his breast with a wild gesture. "I burn !" he 
 said. "Woman, give me back a human heart in place of 
 this flame you have kindled here, or I shall go mad! 
 Last night I dreamed of hell, and of souls toasted on 
 burning forks and fed with sops of bale-fire, and you 
 were there, Anastasia, where the flames leaped and curled 
 like red-blazoned snakes about the poor damned. And 
 I, too, was there. And through eternity I heard you cry 
 to God in vain, O dear, wonderful, golden-haired woman ! 
 
SIMON S HOUR 15 
 
 and we could see Him, somehow, see Him, a great 
 way off, with straight, white brows that frowned upon 
 you pitilessly. And I was glad. For I knew then that 
 I hated you. And even now, when I think I must go mad 
 for love of you, I yet hate you with a fervor that shakes 
 and thrills in every fibre of me. Oh, I burn, I burn !" he 
 cried, with the same frantic clutching at his breast. 
 
 Lady Allonby had risen. 
 
 "Positively, I must ask you to open a window if you 
 intend to continue in this strain. D ye mean to suffocate 
 me, n>y Lord, with your flames and your blazes and your 
 brimstone and so on ? You breathe conflagrations, like a 
 devil in a pantomime. I had as soon converse with a 
 piece of fireworks. So, if you ll pardon me, I will go 
 to my brother." 
 
 At the sound of her high, crisp speech his frenzy fell 
 from him like a mantle. "And you let me kiss you yes 
 terday! Oh, I know you struggled, but you did not 
 struggle very hard, did you, Anastasia?" 
 
 "Why, what a notion!" cried Lady Allonby; "as if a 
 person should bother seriously one way or the other about 
 the antics of an amorous clodhopper ! Meanwhile, I re 
 peat, my Lord, I wish to go to my brother." 
 
 "Egad!" Lord Rokesle retorted, "that reminds me I 
 have been notably remiss. I bear you a message from 
 Harry. He had to-night a letter from Job Nangle, who, 
 it seems, has a purchaser for Trevor s Folly at last. The 
 fellow is with our excellent Nangle at Peniston Friars, 
 and offers liberal terms if the sale be instant. The chance 
 was too promising to let slip, so Harry left the island an 
 hour ago. It happened by a rare chance that some of my 
 fellows were on the point of setting out for the mainland, 
 
16 GALLANTRY 
 
 and he knew that he could safely entrust you to Mrs. 
 Morfit s duennaship, he said." 
 
 "He should not have done so," Lady Allonby observed, 
 as if in a contention of mind. "He I will go to Mrs. 
 Morfit, then, to confess to her in frankness that, after all 
 these rockets and bonfires " 
 
 "Why, that s the unfortunate part of the whole affair," 
 said Lord Rokesle. "The same boat brought Sabina a 
 letter which summoned her to the bedside of her hus 
 band, 1 who, it appears, lies desperately ill at Kuyper 
 Manor. It happened by a rare chance that some of my 
 fellows were on the point of setting out for the mainland 
 from Heriz pier yonder, not from the end of the island 
 whence Harry sailed, so she and her maid embarked in- 
 stanter. Of course, there was your brother here to play 
 propriety, she said. And by the oddest misfortune in the 
 world," Lord Rokesle sighed, "I forgot to tell her that 
 Harry Heleigh had left Usk a half-hour earlier. My 
 memory is lamentably treacherous." 
 
 But Lady Allonby had dropped all affectation. "You 
 coward ! You planned this !" 
 
 "Candidly, yes. Nangle is my agent as well as Harry s, 
 you may remember. I have any quantity of his letters, 
 and of course an equal number of Archibald s. So I 
 spent the morning in my own apartments, Anastasia, 
 tracing letters against the window-pane, which was, I 
 suppose, a childish recreation, but then what would you 
 have? As you very justly observe, country life invari 
 ably coarsens a man s tastes ; and accordingly, as you may 
 
 1 Archibald Morfit, M.P. for Salop, and in 1753 elected Speaker, 
 which office he declined on account of ill-health. He was created 
 a baronet in 1758, through the Duke of Ormskirk s influence. 
 
SIMON S HOUR 17 
 
 now recall, I actually declined a game of ecarte with you 
 in order to indulge in, these little forgeries. Decidedly, 
 my dear, you must train your husband s imagination for 
 superior flights when you are Lady Rokesle." 
 
 She was staring at him as though he had been a portent. 
 "I am alone," she said. "Alone in this place with 
 you ! Alone ! you devil !" 
 
 "Your epithets increase in vigor. Just now I was only 
 a clodhopper. Well, I can but repeat that it rests with 
 you to make me what you will. Though, indeed, you are 
 to all intent alone upon Usk, and upon Usk there are 
 many devils. There are ten of them on guard yonder, 
 by the way, in case your brother shor * return inoppor 
 tunely, though that s scarcely probabU,. Obedient devils, 
 you observe, Anastasia, devils who exert and check 
 their deviltry as I bid em, for they esteem me Lucifer s 
 lieutenant. And I grant the present situation is an out 
 rage to propriety, yet the evil is not incurable. Lady 
 Allonby may not, if she value her reputation, pass to 
 night at Stornoway; but here am I, all willingness, and 
 upstairs is the parson. Believe me, Anastasia, the most 
 vinegarish prude could never object to Lady Rokesle s 
 spending to-night at Stornoway." 
 
 "Let me think, let me think!" Lady Allonby said, and 
 her hands plucked now at her hair, now at her dress. 
 She appeared dazed. "I can t think!" she wailed on a 
 sudden. "I am afraid. I O Vincent, Vincent, you 
 cannot do this thing! I trusted you, Vincent. I know 
 I let you make love to me, and I relished having you 
 make love to me. Women are like that. But I cannot 
 marry you, Vincent. There is a man, yonder in Eng 
 land, whom I love. He does not care for me any more, 
 
18 GALLANTRY 
 
 he is in love with my step-daughter. That is very 
 amusing, is it not, Vincent? Some day I may be his 
 mother-in-law. Why don t you laugh, Vincent? Come, 
 let us both laugh first at this and then at the jest you 
 have just played on me. Do you know, for an instant, 
 I believed you were in earnest? But Harry went to 
 sleep over the cards, didn t he? And Mrs. Morfit has 
 gone to bed with one of her usual headaches? Of 
 course ; and you thought you would retaliate upon me for 
 teasing you. You were quite right. Twas an excellent 
 jest. Now let us laugh at it. Laugh, Vincent! Oh!" 
 she said now, more shrilly, "for the love of God, laugh, 
 laugh ! or I shall go mad !" 
 
 But Lord Rokesle was a man of ice. "Matrimony is 
 a serious matter, Anastasia; tis not becoming in those 
 who are about to enter it to exhibit undue levity. I won 
 der what s keeping Simon ?" 
 
 "Simon Orts !" she said, in a half-whisper. Then she 
 came toward Lord Rokesle, smiling. "Why, of course, 
 I teased you, Vincent, but there was never any hard 
 feeling, was there? And you really wish me to marry 
 you? Well, we must see, Vincent. But, as you say, 
 matrimony is a serious matter. D ye know you say very 
 sensible things, Vincent? not at all like those silly fops 
 yonder in London. I dare say you and I would be very 
 happy together. But you wouldn t have any respect for 
 me if I married you on a sudden like this, would you? 
 Of course not. So you will let me consider it. Come 
 to me a month from now, say, is that too long to wait? 
 Well, I think tis too long myself. Say a week, then. I 
 must have my wedding-finery, you comprehend. We 
 women are such vain creatures not big and brave and 
 
SIMON S HOUR 19 
 
 sensible like you men. See, for example, how much 
 bigger your hand is than mine mine s quite lost in it, 
 isn t it? So since I am only a vain, chattering, help 
 less female thing, you are going to indulge me and let 
 me go up to London for some new clothes, aren t you, 
 Vincent? Of course you will; and we will be married 
 in a week. But you will let me go to London first, won t 
 you? away from this dreadful place, away I didn t 
 mean that. I suppose it is a very agreeable place when 
 you get accustomed to it. And tis only for clothes Oh, 
 I swear it is only for clothes, Vincent! And you said 
 you would yes, only a moment ago you distinctly said 
 you would let me go. Tis not as if I were not coming 
 back who said I would not come back? Of course I 
 will. But you must give me time, Vincent dear, you 
 must, you must, I tell you! O God!" she sobbed, and 
 flung from her the loathed hand she was fondling, "it s 
 no use !" 
 
 "No," said Lord Rokesle, rather sadly. "I am not 
 Samson, nor are you Delilah to cajole me. It s of no 
 use, Anastasia. I would have preferred that you came to 
 me voluntarily, but since you cannot, I mean to take you 
 unwilling. Simon," he called, loudly, "does that rascal 
 intend to spin out his dying interminably? Charon s 
 waiting, man." 
 
 From above, "Coming, my Lord," said Simon Orts. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The Vicar of Heriz Magna descended the stairway 
 with deliberation. His eyes twitched from the sobbing 
 woman to Lord Rokesle, and then back again, in that fur- 
 
20 GALLANTRY 
 
 tive way Orts had of glancing about a room without mov 
 ing his head ; he seemed to lie in ambush under his gross 
 brows; and whatever his thoughts may have been, he 
 gave them no utterance. 
 
 "Simon," said Lord Rokesle, "Lady Allonby is about to 
 make me the happiest of men. Have you a prayer-book 
 about you, Master Parson? for here s a loving couple 
 desirous of entering the blessed state of matrimony." 
 
 "The match is somewhat of the suddenest," said Simon 
 Orts. "But I have known these impromptu marriages 
 to turn out very happily very happily, indeed," he re 
 peated, rubbing his hands together, and smiling horribly. 
 "I gather that Mr. Heleigh will not grace the ceremony 
 with his presence?" 
 
 They understood each other, these two. Lord Rokesle 
 grinned, and in a few words told the ecclesiastic of the 
 trick which had insured the absence of the other guests ; 
 and Simon Orts also grinned, but respectfully, the grin 
 of the true lackey wearing his master s emotions like his 
 master s clothes, at second-hand. 
 
 "A very pretty stratagem," said Simon Orts ; "uncon 
 ventional, I must confess, but it is proverbially known 
 that all s fair in love." 
 
 At this Lady Allonby came to him, catching his hand. 
 "There is only you, Simon. Oh, there is no hope in that 
 lustful devil yonder. But you are not all base, Simon. 
 You are a man, ah, God ! if I were a man I would rip 
 out that devil s heart his defiled and infamous heart! 
 I would trample upon it, I would feed it to dogs !" 
 She paused. Her impotent fury was jerking at every 
 muscle, was choking her. "But I am only a woman. 
 Simon, you used to love me. You cannot have forgotten, 
 
SIMON S HOUR 21 
 
 Simon. Oh, haven t you any pity on a woman? Re 
 member, Simon remember how happy we were! Don t 
 you remember how the night- jars used to call to one an 
 other when we sat on moonlit evenings under the elm- 
 tree? And d ye remember the cottage we planned, 
 Simon? where we were going to live on bread and 
 cheese and kisses? And how we quarrelled because I 
 wanted to train vines over it ? You said the rooms would 
 be too dark. You said oh, Simon, Simon! if only I 
 had gone to live with you in that little cottage we planned 
 and never builded !" Lady Allonby was at his feet now. 
 She fawned upon him in somewhat the manner of a 
 spaniel expectant of a thrashing. 
 
 The Vicar of Heriz Magna dispassionately ran over 
 the leaves of his prayer-book, till he had found the mar 
 riage service, and then closed the book, his forefinger 
 marking the place. Lord Rokesle stood apart, and with 
 a sly and meditative smile observed them. 
 
 "Your plea is a remarkable one," said Simon Orts. 
 "As I understand it, you appeal to me to meddle in your 
 affairs on the ground that you once made a fool of me. 
 I think the obligation is largely optional. I remember 
 quite clearly the incidents to which you refer; and it 
 shames even an old sot like me to think that I was ever 
 so utterly at the mercy of a good-for-nothing jilt. I re 
 member every vow you ever made to me, Anastasia, and 
 I know they were all lies. I remember every kiss, every 
 glance, every caress all lies, Anastasia! And gad! the 
 only emotion it rouses in me is wonder as to why my 
 worthy patron here should want to marry you. Of 
 course you are wealthy, but, personally, I would not have 
 you for double the money. I must ask you to rise, Lady 
 
22 GALLANTRY 
 
 Rokesle. Pardon me if I somewhat anticipate your 
 title." 
 
 Lady Allonby stumbled to her feet. "Is there no man 
 hood in the world?" she asked, with a puzzled voice. 
 "Has neither of you ever heard of manhood, though but 
 as distantly as men hear summer thunder ? Had neither 
 of you a woman for a mother a woman, as I am or a 
 father who was not O God ! not as you are?" 
 
 "These rhetorical passages," said Lord Rokesle, "while 
 very elegantly expressed, are scarcely to the point. So 
 you and Simon went a-philandering once? Egad, that 
 lends quite a touch of romance to the affair. But de 
 spatch, Parson Simon, your lady s for your betters now." 
 
 "Dearly beloved, " said Simon Orts. 
 
 "Simon, you are not all base. I am helpless, Simon, 
 utterly helpless. There was a Simon once would not 
 have seen me weep. There was a Simon " 
 
 " we are gathered together here in the sight of God " 
 
 "You cannot do it, Simon, do I not know you to the 
 marrow? Remember not me not the vain folly of my 
 girlhood ! but do you remember the man you have been, 
 Simon Orts !" Fiercely Lady Allonby caught him, by the 
 shoulder. "For you do remember! You do remember, 
 don t you, Simon ?" 
 
 The Vicar stared at her. "The man I have been," said 
 Simon Orts; "yes! the man I have been!" Something 
 clicked in his throat with sharp distinctness. 
 
 "Upon my word," said Lord Rokesle, yawning, "this 
 getting married appears to be an uncommonly tedious 
 business." 
 
 Then Simon Orts laid aside his prayer-book and said : 
 "I cannot do it, my Lord. The woman s right." 
 
SIMON S HOUR 23 
 
 She clapped her hands to her breast, and stood thus, 
 reeling upon her feet. You would have thought her 
 in the crisis of some physical agony; immediately she 
 breathed again, deeply but with a flinching inhalation, 
 as though the contact of the air scorched her lungs, and, 
 swaying, fell. It was the Vicar who caught her as she 
 fell. 
 
 "I entreat your pardon ?" said Lord Rokesle, and with 
 out study of Lady Allonby s condition. This was men s 
 business now, and over it Rokesle s brow began to pucker. 
 
 Simon Orts bore Lady Allonby to the settle. He 
 passed behind it to arrange a cushion under her head, 
 with an awkward, grudging tenderness; and then rose 
 to face Lord Rokesle across the disordered pink frip 
 peries. 
 
 "The woman s right, my Lord. There is such a thing 
 as manhood. Manhood!" Simon Orts repeated, with a 
 sort of wonder; "why, I might have boasted it once. 
 Then came this cuddling bitch to trick me into a fool s 
 paradise to trick me into utter happiness, till Stephen 
 Allonby, a marquis son, clapped eyes on her and whis 
 tled, and within the moment she had flung me aside. 
 May God forgive me, I forgot I was His servant then! 
 I set out to go to the devil, but I went farther ; for I went 
 to you, Vincent Floyer. You gave me bread when I was 
 starving, but twas at a price. Ay, the price was that 
 I dance attendance on you, to aid and applaud your 
 knaveries, to be your pander, your lackey, your con 
 federate, that I puff out, in effect, the last spark of man 
 hood in my sot s body. Oh, I am indeed beholden to 
 you two ! to her for making me a sot, and to you for mak 
 ing me a lackey. But I will save her from you, Vincent 
 
24 GALLANTRY 
 
 Fioyer. Not for her sake" Orts looked down upon the 
 prostrate woman and snarled. "Christ, no! But 111 
 do it for the sake of the boy I have been, since I owe 
 that boy some reparation. I have ruined his nimble body, 
 I have dulled the wits he gloried in, I have made his name 
 a foul thing that honesty spits out of her mouth ; but, if 
 God yet reigns in heaven, I cleanse that name to-night !" 
 
 "Oh, bless me," Lord Rokesle observed; "I begin to 
 fear these heroics are contagious. Possibly I, too, shall 
 begin to rant in a moment. Meanwhile, as I understand 
 it, you decline to perform the ceremony. I have had to 
 warn you before this, Simon, that you mustn t take too 
 much gin when I am apt to need you. You are very 
 pitifully drunk, man. So you defy me and my evil 
 courses ! You defy me !" Rokesle laughed, genially, for 
 the notion amused him. "Wine is a mocker, Simon. 
 But come, despatch, Parson Tosspot, and let s have no 
 more of these lofty sentiments." 
 
 "I cannot do it. I O my Lord, my Lord! You 
 wouldn t kill an unarmed man !" Simon Orts whined, with 
 a sudden alteration of tone; for Lord Rokesle had com 
 posedly drawn his sword, and its point was now not far 
 from the Vicar s breast. 
 
 "I trust that I shall not be compelled to. Egad, it is a 
 very ludicrous business when the bridegroom is forced to 
 hold a sword to the parson s bosom all during the cere 
 mony; but a ceremony we must have, Simon, for Lady 
 Allonby s jointure is considerable. Otherwise Harkee, 
 my man, don t play the fool ! there are my fellows yonder, 
 any one of whom would twist your neck at a word from 
 me. And do you think I would boggle at a word ? Gad, 
 Simon, I believed you knew me better !" 
 
SIMON S HOUR 25 
 
 The Vicar of Heriz Magna kept silence for an instant ; 
 his eyes were twitching about the hall, in that stealthy 
 way of his. Finally, "It is no use," said he. "A poor 
 knave cannot afford the luxury of honesty. My life is 
 not a valuable one, perhaps, but even vermin have an 
 aversion to death. I resume my lackeyship, Lord 
 Rokesle. Perhaps twas only the gin. Perhaps In 
 any event, I am once more at your service. And as 
 guaranty of this I warn you that you are exhibiting in 
 the affair scant forethought. Mr. Heleigh is but three 
 miles distant. If he, by any chance, get wind of this 
 business, Denstroude will find a boat for him readily 
 enough ay, and men, too, now that the Colonel is at 
 feud with you. Many of your people visit the mainland 
 every night, and in their cups the inhabitants of Usk are 
 not taciturn. An idle word spoken over an inn-table may 
 bring an armed company thundering about your gates. 
 You should have set sentinels, my Lord." 
 
 "I have already done so," Rokesle said ; "there are ten 
 of em yonder. Still there is something in what you say. 
 We will make this affair certain." 
 
 Lord Rokesle crossed the hall to the foot of the stair 
 way and struck thrice upon the gong hanging there. 
 Presently the door leading to the corridor was opened, 
 and a man came into the hall. 
 
 "Punshon," said Lord Rokesle, "have any boats left 
 the island to-night ?" 
 
 "No, my Lord." 
 
 "You will see that none do. Also, no man is to leave 
 Stornoway to-night, either for Heriz Magna or the main 
 land ; and nobody is to enter Stornoway. Do you under 
 stand, Punshon?" 
 
26 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Yes, my Lord." 
 
 "If you will pardon me," said Simon Orts, with a grin, 
 "I have an appointment to-night. You d not have me 
 break faith with a lady ?" 
 
 "You are a lecherous rascal, Simon. But do as you are 
 bid and I indulge you. I am not afraid of your going to 
 Harry Heleigh after performing the ceremony. Nay, 
 my lad, for you are thereby particeps criminis. You will 
 pass Mr. Orts, Punshon, to the embraces of his whore. 
 Nobody else." 
 
 Simon Orts waved his hand toward Lady Allonby. 
 " Twere only kindness to warn Mr. Punshon there may 
 be some disturbance shortly. A lamentation or so." 
 
 At this Lord Rokesle clapped him upon the shoulder 
 and heartily laughed. "That s the old Simon always 
 on the alert. Punshon, no one is to enter this wing of 
 the castle, on any pretext no one, you understand. 
 Whatever noises you may hear, you will pay no attention. 
 Now go." 
 
 He went toward Lady Allonby and took her hand. 
 "Come, Anastasia!" said he. "Hold, she has really 
 swooned ! Why, what the devil, Simon !" 
 
 Simon Orts had flung the gong into the fire. "She 
 will be sounding that when she comes to," said Simon 
 Orts. "You don t want a rumpus fit to vex the dead 
 yonder in the Chapel." Simon Orts stood before the 
 fire, turning the leaves of his prayer-book. He seemed 
 to have difficulty in finding again the marriage service. 
 You heard the outer door of the corridor closing, heard 
 chains dragged ponderously, the heavy falling of a bolt. 
 Orts dropped the book and, springing into the arm-chair, 
 wrested Aluric Floyer s sword from its fastening. 
 
SIMON S HOUR 27 
 
 "Tricked, tricked!" said Simon Orts. "You were al 
 ways a fool, Vincent Floyer." 
 
 Lord Rokesle blinked at him, as if dazzled by unex 
 pected light. "What d ye mean ?" 
 
 "I have the honor to repeat you are a fool. I did not 
 know the place was guarded you told me. I needed 
 privacy ; by your orders no one is to enter here to-night. 
 I needed a sword you had it hanging here, ready for 
 the first comer. Oh, beyond doubt, you are a fool, Vin 
 cent Floyer!" Standing in the arm-chair, Simon Orts 
 bowed fantastically, and then leaped to the ground with 
 the agility of an imp. 
 
 "You have tricked me neatly," Lord Rokesle conceded, 
 and his tone did not lack honest admiration. "By gad, 
 I have even given them orders to pass you after you 
 have murdered me! Exceedingly clever, Simon, but 
 one thing you overlooked. You are very far from my 
 match at fencing. So I shall presently kill you. And 
 afterward, ceremony or no ceremony, the woman s mine." 
 
 "I am not convinced of that," the Vicar observed. 
 * Tis true I am no swordsman ; but there are behind my 
 sword forces superior to any which skill might muster. 
 The sword of your fathers fights against you, my Lord 
 against you that are their disgrace. They loved honor 
 and truth; you betrayed honor, you knew not truth. 
 They revered womanhood; you reverence nothing, and 
 your life smirches your mother s memory. Ah, believe 
 me, they all fight against you! Can you not see them, 
 my Lord? yonder at my back? old Aluric Floyer and 
 all those honest gentlemen, whose blood now blushes in 
 your body ay, blushes to be confined in a vessel so 
 ignoble! Their armament fights against you, a host of 
 
28 GALLANTRY 
 
 gallant phantoms. And rfiy hatred, too, fights against 
 you the cur s bitter hatred for the mastering hand it 
 dares not bite. I dare now. You made me your pander, 
 you slew my manhood; in return, body and soul, I de 
 molish you. Even my hatred for that woman fights 
 against you; she robbed me of my honor is it not a 
 tragical revenge to save her honor, to hold it in my hand, 
 mine, to dispose of as I elect, and then fling it to her 
 as a thing contemptible? Between you, you have ruined 
 me; but it is Simon s hour to-night. I shame you both, 
 and past the reach of thought, for presently I shall take 
 your life in the high-tide of your iniquity, praise God! 
 and presently I shall give my life for hers. Ah, I am 
 fey, my Lord ! You are a dead man, Vincent Floyer, for 
 the powers of good and the powers of evil alike contend 
 against you." 
 
 He spoke rather sadly than otherwise ; and there was a 
 vague trouble in Lord Rokesle s face, though he shook 
 his head impatiently. "These are fine words to come 
 from the dirtiest knave unhanged in England. * 
 
 "Great ends may be attained by petty instruments, 
 my Lord ; a filthy turtle quenched the genius of /Eschylus, 
 and they were only common soldiers who shed the blood 
 that redeemed the world." 
 
 Lord Rokesle pished at this. Yet he was strangely 
 unruffled. He saluted with quietude, as equal to equal, 
 and the two crossed blades. 
 
 Simon Orts fought clumsily, but his encroachment was 
 unwavering. From the first he pressed his opponent 
 with a contained resolution. The Vicar was as a man 
 fighting in a dream with a drugged obstinacy, unswerv 
 ing. Lord Rokesle had wounded him in the arm, but 
 
SIMON S HOUR 29 
 
 Orts did not seem aware of this. He crowded upon his 
 master. Now there were little beads of sweat on Lord 
 Rokesle s brow, and his tongue protruded from his 
 mouth, licking at it ravenously. Step by step Lord 
 Rokesle drew back ; there was no withstanding this dumb 
 fanatic, who did not know when he was wounded, who 
 scarcely parried attack. 
 
 "Even on earth you shall have a taste of hell," said 
 Simon Orts. "There is terror in your eyes, my worthy 
 patron." 
 
 Lord Rokesle flung up his arms as the sword dug into 
 his breast. "I am afraid! I am afraid!" he wailed. 
 Then he coughed, and seemed with his straining hands 
 to push a great weight from him as the blood frothed 
 about his lips and nostrils. "O Simon, I am afraid! 
 Help me, Simon !" 
 
 Old custom spoke there. Followed silence, and pres 
 ently the empty body sprawled upon the floor. Vincent 
 Floyer had done with it. 
 
 IV 
 
 Simon Orts knelt, abstractedly wiping Aluric Floyer s 
 sword upon the corner of a rug. It may be that he de 
 rived comfort from this manual employment which neces 
 sitated attention without demanding that it concentrate his 
 mind ; it may have enabled him to forget how solitary the 
 place was, how viciously his garments rustled when he 
 moved : the fact is certain that he cleaned the sword, over 
 and over again. 
 
 Then a scraping of silks made him wince. Turning, 
 he found Lady Allonby half -erect upon the settle. She 
 
30 GALLANTRY 
 
 stared about her with a kind of infantile wonder; her 
 glance swept over Lord Rokesle s body, without to all 
 appearance finding it an object of remarkable interest. 
 "Is he dead?" 
 
 "Yes," said Simon Orts; "get up!" His voice had a 
 rasp; she might from his tone have been a refractory 
 dog. But Lady Allonby obeyed him. 
 
 "We are in a devil of a mess," said Simon Orts; "yet 
 I see a way out of it if you can keep your head. Can 
 you?" 
 
 "I am past fear," she said, dully. "I drown, Simon, 
 in a sea of feathers. I can get no foothold, I clutch noth 
 ing that is steadfast, and I smother. I have been like 
 this in dreams. I am very tired, Simon." 
 
 He took her hand, collectedly appraising her pulse. He 
 put his own hand upon her bared bosom, and felt the 
 beat of her heart. "No," said Simon Orts, "you are not 
 afraid. Now, listen: You lack time to drown in a sea 
 of feathers. You are upon Usk, among men who differ 
 from beasts by being a thought more devilish, and from 
 devils by being a little more bestial ; it is my opinion that 
 the earlier you get away the better. Punshon has orders 
 to pass Simon Orts. Very well ; put on this." 
 
 He caught up his long cloak and wrapped it about her. 
 Lady Allonby stood rigid. But immediately he frowned 
 and removed the garment from her shoulders. 
 
 "That won t do. Your skirts are too big. Take em 
 off." 
 
 Submissively she did so, and presently stood before 
 him in her under-petticoat. 
 
 "You cut just now a very ludicrous figure, Anastasia. 
 I dare assert that the nobleman who formerly inhabited 
 
SIMON S HOUR 31 
 
 yonder carcass would still be its tenant if he had known 
 how greatly the beauty he went mad for was beholden to 
 the haberdasher and the mantua-maker, and quite possibly 
 the chemist. Persicos odi, Anastasia; tis a humiliating 
 reflection that the hair of a dead woman artfully disposed 
 about a living head should have the power to set men 
 squabbling, and murder be at times engendered in a paint- 
 pot. However, wrap yourself in the cloak. Now turn 
 up the collar, so. Now pull down the hatbrim. Um 
 J a pretty well. Chance favors us unblushingly. You 
 may thank your stars it is a rainy night and that I am a 
 little man. You detest little men, don t you? Yes, I 
 remember." Simon Orts now gave his orders, emphasiz 
 ing each with a not over-clean forefinger. "When I open 
 this door you will go out into the corridor. Punshon or 
 one of the others will be on guard at the farther end. 
 Pay no attention to him. There is only one light on 
 the left. Keep to the right, in the shadow. Stagger as 
 you go; if you can manage a hiccough, the imitation will 
 be all the more lifelike. Punshon will expect something 
 of the sort, and he will not trouble you, for he knows that 
 when I am fuddled I am quarrelsome. Tis a diverting 
 world, Anastasia, wherein, you now perceive, habitual 
 drunkenness and an unbridled temper may sometimes 
 prove commendable, as they do to-night, when they aid 
 persecuted innocence!" Here Simon Orts gave an un 
 pleasant laugh. 
 
 "But I do not understand " 
 
 "You understand very little except coquetry and the 
 proper disposition of a ruffle. Yet this is simple. My 
 horse is tied at the postern. Mount astride, mind. 
 You know the way to the Vicarage, so does the horse; 
 
32 GALLANTRY 
 
 you will find that posturing half-brother of mine at the 
 Vicarage. Tell Frank what has happened. Tell him to 
 row you to the mainland; tell him to conduct you to 
 Colonel Denstroude s. Then you must shift for your 
 self; but Denstroude is a gentleman, and Denstroude 
 would protect Beelzebub if he came to him a fugitive 
 from Vincent Floyer. Now do you understand?" 
 
 "Yes," said Lady Allonby, and seated herself before 
 the fire, "y es > I understand. I am to slip away in the 
 darkness and leave you here to answer for Lord Rokesle s 
 death to those devils. La, do you really think me as 
 base as that?" 
 
 Now Simon Orts was kneeling at her side. The black 
 cloak enveloped her from head to foot, and the turned-up 
 collar screened her sunny hair; in the shadow of the 
 broad hatbrim you could see only her eyes, resplendent 
 and defiant, and in them the reflection of the vaulting 
 flames. "You would stay, Anastasia?" 
 
 "I will not purchase my life at the cost of yours. I 
 will be indebted to you for nothing, Simon Orts." 
 
 The Vicar chuckled. "Nor appeared Less than arch 
 angel ruined," he said. "No, faith, not a Whit less ! We 
 are much of a piece, Anastasia. Do you know if affairs 
 had fallen out differently I think I might have been a 
 man and you a woman? As it is " Kneeling still, his 
 glance devoured her. "Yes, you would stay. And you 
 comprehend what staying signifies. Tis pride, your dam 
 nable pride, that moves you, but I rejoice, for it proves 
 you a brave woman. Courage, at least, you possess, and 
 this is the first virtue I have discovered in you for a long 
 while. However, there is no necessity for your staying. 
 The men of Usk will not hurt Simon Orts." 
 
SIMON S HOUR 33 
 
 She was very eager to believe this. Lady Allonby had 
 found the world a pleasant place since her widowhood. 
 "They will not kill you? You swear it, Simon?" 
 
 "Why, the man was their tyrant. They obeyed him 
 yes, through fear. I am their deliverer, Anastasia. 
 But if they found a woman here a woman not ill-look 
 ing " Simon Orts snapped his fingers. "Faith, I leave 
 you to conjecture," said he. 
 
 They had both risen, he smiling, the woman in a 
 turbulence of hope and terror. "Swear to it, Simon!" 
 
 "Anastasia, were affairs as you suppose them,, I would 
 have a curt while to live. Were affairs as you suppose 
 them, I would stand now at the threshold of eternity. 
 And I swear to you, upon my soul s salvation, that I have 
 nothing to fear. Nothing will ever hurt me any more." 
 
 "No, you would not dare to lie in the moment of 
 death," she said, after a considerable pause. "I believe 
 you. I will go. Good-bye, Simon." Lady Allonby went 
 toward the door opening into the corridor, but turned 
 there and came back to him. "I shall never see you 
 again. And, la, I think that I rather hate you than other 
 wise, for you remind me of things I would willingly for 
 get. But, Simon, I wish we had gone to live in that little 
 cottage we planned, and quarrelled over, and never built ! 
 I think we would have been happy." 
 
 Simon Orts raised her hand to his lips. "Yes," said he, 
 "we would have been happy. I would have been by this 
 a man doing a man s work in the world, and you a matron, 
 grizzling, perhaps, but rich in content, and in love opulent. 
 As it is, you have your flatterers, your gossip, and your 
 cards ; I have my gin. Good-bye, Anastasia." 
 
 "Simon, why have you done this ?" 
 
34 GALLANTRY 
 
 The Vicar of Heriz Magna flung out his hands in a 
 gesture of impotence. "I dare confess now that which 
 even to myself I have never dared confess. I suppose 
 the truth of it is that I have loved you all my life." 
 "I am sorry. I am not worth it, Simon." 
 "No; you are immeasurably far from being worth it. 
 But one does not justify these fancies by mathematics. 
 Good-bye, Anastasia." 
 
 Holding the door ajar, the Vicar of Heriz Magna heard 
 a horse s hoofs slap their leisurely way down the hillside. 
 Presently the sound died and he turned back into the 
 hall. 
 
 "A brave woman, that ! Oh, a trifling, shallow-hearted 
 jilt, but a brave creature! 
 
 "I had to lie to her. She would have stayed else. And 
 perhaps it is true that, in reality, I have loved her all my 
 life, or in any event, have hankered after the pink-and- 
 white flesh of her as any gentleman might. Pschutt! a 
 pox on all lechery says the dying man, since it is now 
 necessary to put that strapping yellow-haired trollop out 
 of your mind, Simon Orts yes, after all these years, to 
 put her quite out of your mind. Faith, she might 
 wheedle me now to her heart s content, and my pulse 
 would never budge; for I must devote what trivial time 
 there is to hoping they will kill me quickly. He was 
 their god, that man !" 
 
 Simon Orts went toward the dead body, looking down 
 into the distorted face. "And I, too, loved him. Yes, 
 such as he was, he was the only friend I had. And I 
 
SIMON S HOUR 35 
 
 think he liked rne," Simon Orts said aloud, with a touch 
 of shy pride. "Yes, and you trusted me, didn t you, 
 Vincent? Wait for me, then, my Lord, I shall not be 
 long. And now I ll serve you faithfully. I had to play 
 the man s part, you know, you mustn t grudge old Simon 
 his one hour of manhood. You wouldn t, I think. And 
 in any event, I shall be with you presently, and you can 
 cuff me for it if you like just as you used to do." 
 
 He covered the dead face with his handkerchief, but 
 in the instant he drew it away. "No, not this coarse 
 cambric. You were too much of a fop, Vincent. I will 
 use yours the finest linen, my Lord. You see old Simon 
 knows your tastes." 
 
 He drew himself erect exultantly. 
 
 "They will come at dawn to kill me; but I have had 
 my hour. God, the man I might have been! And now 
 well, perhaps He would not be offended if I said a bit 
 of a prayer for Vincent." 
 
 So the Vicar of Heriz Magna knelt beside the flesh that 
 had been Lord Rokesle, and there they found him in the 
 morning. 
 
II 
 
 LOVE AT MARTINMAS 
 
 As Played at Tunbridge Wells, April i, 
 
 "He to love an altar built 
 Of twelve vast French romances, neatly gilt. 
 There lay three garters, half a pair of gloves, 
 And all the trophies of his former loves ; 
 With tender billet-doux he lights the pyre, 
 And breathes three amorous sighs to raise the fire; 
 Then prostrate falls, and begs ivith ardent eyes 
 Soon to obtain, and long possess the prize." 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 MR. ERWYN, a gentleman of the town, ceremonious and a 
 
 coxcomb, but a man of honor. 
 LADY ALLONBY, a woman of fashion, and widow to 
 
 Lord Stephen Allonby. 
 Miss ALLONBY, daughter to Lord Stephen by a former 
 
 marriage, of a considerable fortune in her own hands. 
 
 FOOTMEN to Lady Allonby; and in the Proem FRANCIS 
 ORTS, commonly know as FRANCIS VANRINGHAM, a 
 dissolute play-actor. 
 
 SCENE 
 
 A drawing-room in Lady Allonby s rilla at Tunbridge 
 Wells. 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 
 PROEM: To be Filed for Reference Hereafter 
 
 LADY ALLONBY followed in all respects the 
 Vicar s instructions ; and midnight found her upon 
 the pier of Bishops Onslow, Colonel Denstroude s 
 big and dilapidated country-residence. Frank Orts had 
 assisted her from the rowboat without speaking; indeed, 
 he had uttered scarcely a word, save to issue some neces 
 sary direction, since the woman first came to him at the 
 Vicarage with her news of the night s events. Now he 
 composedly stepped back into the boat. 
 
 "You ve only to go forward," said Frank Orts. "I 
 regret that for my own part I m no longer an acceptable 
 visitor here, since the Colonel and I fought last summer 
 over one Molly Yates. Nay, I beseech you, put up your 
 purse, my Lady." 
 
 "Then I can but render you my heartfelt thanks," re 
 plied Lady Allonby, "and incessantly remember you in 
 daily prayers for the two gallant men who have this night 
 saved a woman from great misery. Yet there is that in 
 your voice which is curiously familiar, Mr. Orts, and I 
 think that somewhere you and I have met before this." 
 
 "Ay," he responded, "you have squandered many a 
 shilling on me here in England, where Francis Vanring- 
 ham bellows and makes faces with the rest of the Globe 
 Company. On Usk, you understand, I m still Frank 
 Orts, just as I was christened; but elsewhere the name 
 
 39 
 
40 GALLANTRY 
 
 of Vanringham was long ago esteemed more apt to em 
 bellish and adorn the bill of a heroic play. Ay, you ve 
 been pleased to applaud my grimaces behind the foot 
 lights, more than once; your mother-in-law, indeed, the 
 revered Marchioness-Dowager of Falmouth, is among 
 my staunchest patrons." 
 
 "Heavens! then we shall all again see one another at 
 Tunbridge!" said Lady Allonby, who was recovering her 
 spirits; "and I shall have a Heaven-sent opportunity to 
 confirm my protestations that I am not ungrateful. Mr. 
 Vanringham, I explicitly command you to open in The 
 Orphan, since as Castalio in that piece you are the most 
 elegant and moving thing in the universal world." x 
 
 "Your command shall be obeyed," said the actor. 
 "And meantime, my Lady, I bid you an au revoir, with 
 many millions of regrets for the inconveniences to which 
 you ve been subjected this evening. Oho, we are lament 
 ably rustic hereabout." 
 
 And afterward as he rowed through the dark the man 
 gave a grunt of dissatisfaction. 
 
 "I was too abrupt with her. But it vexes me to have 
 Brother Simon butchered like this. . . . These natural 
 instincts are damnably inconvenient, and expensive, at 
 times, Mr. Vanringham, beside being ruinous to one s 
 sense of humor, Mr. Vanringham. Why, to think that 
 she alone should go scot-free ! and of her ordering a stage- 
 box within the hour of two men s destruction on her ac- 
 
 1 This was the opinion of others as well. Thorsby (Roscius 
 Anglicanus) says, "Mr. Vanringham was good in tragedy, as well 
 as in comedy, especially as Castalio in Otway s Orphan, and the 
 more famous Gar rick came, in that part, far short of him." 
 Vanringham was also noted for his Valentine in Love for Love 
 and for his Beaugard in The Soldier s Fortune. 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 41 
 
 count! Upon reflection, I admire the woman to the 
 very tips of my toes. Eh, well ! I trust to have need of 
 her gratitude before the month is up." 
 
 Since Colonel Denstroude proved a profane and dis 
 solute and helpful person, Lady Allonby was shortly re 
 established in her villa at Tunbridge Wells, on the Sussex 
 side, where she had resolved to find a breathing-space 
 prior to the full season in London. And thereupon she 
 put all thoughts of Usk quite out of her mind : it had been 
 an unhappy business, but it was over. In the meanwhile 
 her wardrobe needed replenishing now that spring was 
 coming in; the company at the Wells was gay enough; 
 and Lady Allonby had always sedulously avoided any 
 thing that was disagreeable. 
 
 Mr. Erwyn Lady Allonby was far from cataloguing 
 under that head. Mr. George Erwyn had been for years 
 a major-general, at the very least, in Fashion s army, 
 and was concededly a connoisseur of all the elegancies. 
 
 Mr. Erwyn sighed as he ended his recital half for pity 
 of the misguided folk who had afforded Tunbridge its 
 latest scandal, half for relief that, in spite of many diffi 
 culties, the story had been set forth in discreet language 
 which veiled, without at all causing you to miss, the more 
 unsavory details. 
 
 "And so," said he, "poor Harry is run through the 
 lungs, and Mrs. Anstruther has recovered her shape and 
 is to be allowed a separate maintenance." 
 
 "Tis shocking!" said Lady Allonby. 
 
 " Tis incredible," said Mr. Erwyn, "to my mind, at 
 
42 GALLANTRY 
 
 least, that the bonds of matrimony should be slipped thus 
 lightly. But the age is somewhat lax and the world now 
 views with complaisance the mad antics of half-grown 
 lads and wenches who trip toward the altar as carelessly 
 as if the partnership were for a country-dance." 
 
 Lady Allonby stirred her tea and said nothing. Noto 
 riously her marriage had been unhappy; and her two 
 years of widowhood (dating from the unlamented 
 seizure, brought on by an inherited tendency to apoplexy 
 and French brandy, which carried off Lord Stephen 
 Allonby of Prestoriwoode) had to all appearance never 
 tempered her distrust of the matrimonial state. Cer 
 tain it was that she had refused many advantageous 
 offers during this period, for her jointure was consider 
 able, and, though in candid moments she confessed to 
 thirty-three, her dearest friends could not question Lady 
 Allonby s good looks. She was used to say that she 
 would never re-marry, because she desired to devote her 
 self to her step-daughter, but, as gossip had it at Tun- 
 bridge, she was soon to be deprived of this subterfuge; 
 for Miss Allonby had reached her twentieth year, and 
 was nowadays rarely seen in public save in the company 
 of Mr. Erwyn, who, it was generally conceded, stood high 
 in the girl s favor and was desirous of rounding off his 
 career as a leader of fashion with the approved comcedic 
 denouement of marriage with a young heiress. 
 
 For these reasons Lady Allonby heard with interest 
 his feeling allusion to the laxity of the age, and through 
 a moment pondered thereon, for it seemed now tolerably 
 apparent that Mr. Erwyn had lingered, after the depar 
 ture of her other guests, in order to make a disclosure 
 which Tunbridge had for many months expected. 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 43 
 
 "I had not thought/ said she, at length, "that you, 
 of all men, would ever cast a serious eye toward mar 
 riage. Indeed, Mr. Erwyn, you have loved women so 
 long that I must dispute your ability to love a woman 
 and your amours have been a byword these twenty 
 years." 
 
 "Dear lady," said Mr. Erwyn, "surely you would not 
 confound amour with love? Believe me, the translation 
 is inadequate. Amour is but the summer wave that lifts 
 and glitters and laughs in the sunlight, and within the 
 instant disappears; but love is the unfathomed eternal 
 sea itself. Or to shift the metaphor Amour is a gen 
 eral under whom youth must serve : Curiosity and Lusti 
 ness are his recruiting officers, and it is well to fight under 
 his colors, for it is against Ennui that he marshals his 
 forces. Tis a resplendent conflict, and young blood 
 cannot but stir and exult as paradoxes, marching and 
 countermarching at the command of their gay general 
 issimo, make way for one another in iridescent squadrons, 
 while through the steady musketry of epigram one hears 
 the clash of contending repartees, or the cry of a wailing 
 sonnet. But this lord of laughter may be served by 
 the young alone ; and by and by each veteran scarred, it 
 may be, but not maimed, dear lady is well content to 
 relinquish the glory and adventure of such colorful cam 
 paigns for some quiet inglenook, where, with love to 
 make a third, he prattles of past days and deeds with one 
 that goes hand in hand with him toward the tomb." 
 
 Lady Allonby accorded this conceit the tribute of a 
 sigh; then glanced in the direction of four impassive 
 footmen to make sure they were out of earshot. 
 
 "And so?" said she. 
 
44 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Split me!" said Mr. Erwyn, "I thought you had noted 
 it long ago." 
 
 "Indeed," she observed, reflectively, "I suppose it is 
 quite time." 
 
 "I am not," said Mr. Erwyn, "in the heyday of my 
 youth, I grant you ; but I am not for that reason neces 
 sarily unmoved by the attractions of an advantageous 
 person, a fine sensibility and all the graces." 
 
 He sipped his tea with an air of resentment; and 
 Lady Allonby, in view of the disparity of age which ex 
 isted between Mr. Erwyn and her step-daughter, had 
 cause to feel that she had blundered into gaucherie; and 
 to await with contrition the proposal for her step 
 daughter s hand that the man was (at last) about to 
 broach to her, as the head of the family. 
 
 "Who is she ?" said Lady Allonby, all friendly interest. 
 
 "An angel," said Mr. Erwyn, fencing. 
 
 "Beware," Lady Allonby exhorted, "lest she prove a 
 recording angel ; a wife who takes too deep an interest in 
 your movements will scarcely suit you." 
 
 "Oh, I am assured," said Mr. Erwyn, smiling, "that on 
 Saturdays she will allow me the customary half -holiday." 
 
 Lady Allonby, rebuffed, sought consolation among the 
 conserves. 
 
 "Yet, as postscript," said Mr. Erwyn, "I do not desire 
 a wife who will take her morning chocolate with me and 
 sup with Heaven knows whom. I have seen too much of 
 mariage a la mode, and I come to her, if not with the 
 transports of an Amadis, at least with an entire affection 
 and respect." 
 
 Then," said Lady Allonby, "you love this woman?" 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 45 
 
 "Very tenderly," said Mr. Erwyn; "and, indeed, I 
 would, for her sake, that the errors of my past life were 
 not so numerous, nor the frailty of my aspiring resolu 
 tions rendered apparent ah, so many times! to a gap 
 ing and censorious world. For, as you are aware, I 
 cannot offer her an untried heart; tis somewhat worn 
 by many barterings. But I know that this heart beats 
 with accentuation in her presence; and when I come to 
 her some day and clasp her in my arms, as I aspire to do, 
 I trust that her lips may not turn away from mine and 
 that she may be more glad because I am so near and 
 that her stainless heart may sound an echoing chime. 
 For, with a great and troubled adoration, I love her as I 
 have loved no other woman ; and this much, I submit, you 
 cannot doubt." 
 
 "I?" said Lady Allonby, with extreme innocence. 
 "La, how should I know?" 
 
 "Unless you are blind," Mr. Erwyn observed "and I 
 apprehend those spacious shining eyes to be more keen 
 than the tongue of a dowager, you must have seen of 
 late that I have presumed to hope to think that she 
 whom I love so tenderly might deign to be the affectionate, 
 the condescending friend who would assist me to retrieve 
 the indiscretions of my youth " 
 
 The confusion of his utterance, his approach to posi 
 tive agitation as he waved his teaspoon, moved Lady 
 Allonby. "It is true," she said, "that I have not been 
 wholly blind" 
 
 "Anastasia," said Mr. Erwyn, with yet more feeling, 
 "is not our friendship of an age to justify sincerity ?" 
 
 "Oh, bless me, you toad ! but let us not talk of things 
 
46 GALLANTRY 
 
 that happened under the Tudors. Well, I have not been 
 unreasonably blind, and I do not object, and I do not 
 believe that Dorothy will prove obdurate." 
 
 "You render me the happiest of men," Mr. Erwyn 
 stated, rapturously. "You have, then, already discussed 
 this matter with Miss Allonby ?" 
 
 "Not precisely," said she, laughing; "since I had 
 thought it apparent to the most timid lover that the first 
 announcement came with best grace from him." 
 
 "O* my conscience, then, I shall be a veritable Demos 
 thenes," said Mr. Erwyn, laughing likewise: "and in 
 4 common decency she will consent." 
 
 "Your conceit," said Lady Allonby, "is appalling." 
 
 " Tis beyond conception," Mr. Erwyn admitted ; "and 
 I propose to try marriage as a remedy. I have heard that 
 nothing so takes down a man." 
 
 "Impertinent!" cried Lady Allonby: "now of what 
 ever can the creature be talking!" 
 
 "I mean that, as your widowship well knows, marrying 
 puts a man in his proper place. And that the outcome 
 is salutary for proud, puffed-up fellows I would be the 
 last to dispute. Indeed, I incline to dispute nothing, for I 
 find that perfect felicity is more potent than wine. I am 
 now all pastoral raptures, and were it not for the foot 
 men there, I do not know to what lengths I might go." 
 
 "In that event," Lady Allonby decided, "I shall fetch 
 Dorothy, that the crown may be set upon your well- 
 being. And previously I will dismiss the footmen." She 
 did so with a sign toward those lordly beings. 
 
 "Believe me," said Mr. Erwyn, " tis what I have long 
 wished for. And when Miss Allonby honors me with her 
 attention I shall, since my life s happiness depends upon 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 47 
 
 the issue, plead with all the eloquence of a starveling 
 barrister, big with the import of his first case. May I, 
 indeed, rest assured that any triumph over her possible 
 objections may be viewed with not unfavorable eyes?" 
 
 "O sir," said Lady Allonby, "believe me, there is 
 nothing I more earnestly desire than that you may obtain 
 all which is necessary for your welfare. I will fetch 
 Dorothy." 
 
 The largest footman but one removed Mr. Erwyn s 
 cup. 
 
 II 
 
 Mr. Erwyn, left alone, smiled at his own reflection in 
 the mirror ; rearranged his ruffles with a deft and shapely 
 hand; consulted his watch; made sure that the padding 
 which enhanced the calves of his most notable legs was 
 all as it should be; seated himself and hummed a merry 
 air, in meditative wise ; and was in such posture when the 
 crimson hangings that shielded the hall-door quivered 
 and broke into tumultuous waves and yielded up Miss 
 Dorothy Allonby. 
 
 Being an heiress, Miss Allonby was by an ancient cus 
 tom brevetted a great beauty; and it is equitable to add 
 that the sourest misogynist could hardly have refused, 
 pointblank, to countersign the commission. They said of 
 Dorothy Allonby that her eyes were as large as her bank 
 account, and nearly as formidable as her tongue ; and it 
 is undeniable that on provocation there was in her speech 
 a tang of acidity, such (let us say) as renders a salad 
 none the less palatable. In a word, Miss Allonby pitied 
 the limitations of masculine humanity more readily than 
 
48 GALLANTRY 
 
 its amorous pangs, and cuddled her women friends as she 
 did kittens, with a wary and candid apprehension of 
 their power to scratch; and decision was her key-note; 
 continually she knew to the quarter-width of a cobweb 
 what she wanted, and invariably she got it. 
 
 Such was the person who, with a habitual emphasis 
 which dowagers found hoydenish and all young men 
 adorable, demanded without prelude : 
 
 "Heavens ! What can it be, Mr. Erwyn, that has cast 
 Mother into this unprecedented state of excitement?" 
 
 "What, indeed?" said he, and bowed above her prof 
 fered hand. 
 
 "For like a hurricane, she burst into my room and 
 cried, Mr. Erwyn has something of importance to de 
 clare to you why did you put on that gown ? bless you, 
 my child all in one eager breath ; then kissed me, and 
 powdered my nose, and despatched me to you without 
 any explanation. And why?" said Miss Allonby. 
 
 "Why, indeed?" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "It is very annoying," said she, decisively. 
 
 "Sending you to me?" said Mr. Erwyn, a magnitude 
 of reproach in his voice. 
 
 "That," said Miss Allonby, "I can pardon and easily. 
 But I dislike all mysteries, and being termed a child, 
 and being " 
 
 "Yes?" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 " an d being powdered on the nose," said Miss Allonby, 
 with firmness. She went to the mirror, and, standing on 
 the tips of her toes, peered anxiously into its depths. 
 She rubbed her nose, as if in disapproval, and frowned, 
 perhaps involuntarily pursing up her lips, which Mr. 
 Erwyn intently regarded, and then wandered to the ex- 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 49 
 
 treme end of the apartment, where he evinced a sudden 
 interest in bric-a-brac. 
 
 "Is there any powder on my nose ?" said Miss Allonby. 
 
 "I fail to perceive any," said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "Come closer," said she. 
 
 "I dare not/ said he. 
 
 Miss Allonby wheeled about. "Fie!" she cried; "one 
 who has served against the French, 1 and afraid of pow 
 der!" 
 
 "It is not the powder that I fear." 
 
 "What, then?" said she, in sinking to the divan beside 
 the disordered tea-table. 
 
 "There are two of them," said Mr. Erwyn, "and they 
 are so red " 
 
 "Nonsense !" cried Miss Allonby, with heightened color. 
 
 " Tis best to avoid temptation," said Mr. Erwyn, 
 virtuously. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," she assented, "it is best to avoid hav 
 ing your ears boxed." 
 
 Mr. Erwyn sighed as if in the relinquishment of an 
 empire. Miss Allonby moved to the farther end of the 
 divan. 
 
 "What was it," she demanded, "that you had to tell 
 me?" 
 
 " Tis a matter of some importance " said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "Heavens!" said Miss Allonby, and absent-mindedly 
 drew aside her skirts; "one would think you about to 
 make a declaration." 
 
 1 This was not absolutely so. Mr. Erwyn had, however, in an 
 outburst of patriotism, embarked, as a sort of cabin passenger, 
 with his friend Sir John Morris, and possessed in consequence 
 some claim to share such honor as was won by the glorious 
 fiasco of Dungeness. 
 
50 GALLANTRY 
 
 Mr. Erwyn sat down beside her. "I have been known," 
 said he, "to do such things." 
 
 The divan was strewn with cushions in the Oriental 
 fashion. Miss Allonby, with some adroitness, slipped 
 one of them between her person and the locality of her 
 neighbor. "Oh!" said Miss Allonby. 
 
 "Yes," said he, smiling over the dragon-embroidered 
 barrier ; "I admit that I am even now shuddering upon 
 the verge of matrimony." 
 
 "Indeed!" she marvelled, secure in her fortress. 
 "Have you selected an accomplice?" . 
 
 "Split me, yes !" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "And have I the honor of her acquaintance ?" said Miss 
 Allonby. 
 
 "Provoking !" said Mr. Erwyn ; "no woman knows her 
 better." 
 
 Miss Allonby smiled. "Dear Mr. Erwyn," she stated, 
 "this is a disclosure I have looked for these six months." 
 
 "Split me !" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "Heavens, yes!" said she. "You have been a rather 
 dilatory lover " 
 
 "I am inexpressibly grieved, that I should have kept 
 you waiting " 
 
 " and in fact, I had frequently thought of reproach 
 ing you for your tardiness " 
 
 "Nay, in that case," said Mr. Erwyn, "the matter 
 could, no doubt, have been more expeditiously arranged." 
 
 " since your intentions have been quite apparent." 
 
 Mr. Erwyn removed the cushion. "You do not, then, 
 disapprove," said he, "of my intentions?" 
 
 "Indeed, no," said Miss Allonby; "I think you will 
 make an excellent step-father." 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 51 
 
 The cushion fell to the floor. Mr. Erwyn replaced it 
 and smiled. 
 
 "And so," Miss Allonby continued, "Mother, believing 
 me in ignorance, has deputed you to inform me of this 
 most transparent secret? How strange is the blindness 
 of lovers! But I suppose," sighed Miss Allonby, "we 
 are all much alike." 
 
 "We?" said Mr. Erwyn, softly. 
 
 "I meant " said- Miss Allonby, flushing somewhat. 
 
 "Yes?" said Mr. Erwyn. His voice sank to a pleading 
 cadence. "Dear child, am, I not worthy of trust ?" 
 
 There was a microscopic pause. 
 
 "I am going to the Pantiles this afternoon," declared 
 Miss Allonby, at length, "to feed the swans." 
 
 "Ah," said Mr. Erwyn, and with comprehension; 
 "surely, he, too, is rather tardy." 
 
 "Oh," said she, "then you know?" 
 
 "I know," he announced, "that there is a tasteful 
 and secluded summer-house near the Fountain of Nep 
 tune." 
 
 "I was never allowed," said Miss Allonby, unconvinc- 
 ingly, "to go into secluded summer-houses with any one ; 
 and, besides, the gardeners keep their beer jugs there 
 under the biggest bench." 
 
 Mr. Erwyn beamed upon her paternally. "I was not, 
 till this, aware," said he, "that Captain Audaine was so 
 much interested in ornithology. Yet what if, even when 
 he is seated upon that biggest bench, your Captain does 
 not utterly lose the head he is contributing to the tete- 
 a-tete?" 
 
 "Oh, but he will," said Miss Allonby, with confidence ; 
 then she reflectively added: "I shall have again to be 
 
52 GALLANTRY 
 
 painfully surprised by his declaration, for, after all, it 
 will only be his seventh." 
 
 "Doubtless," Mr. Erwyn considered, "your astonish 
 ment will be extreme when you rebuke him, there above 
 hortensial beer jugs " 
 
 "And I shall be deeply grieved that he has so utterly 
 misunderstood my friendly interest in his welfare; and 
 I shall be highly indignant after he has in effect, after 
 he has" 
 
 "But not until afterward?" said Mr. Erwyn, holding 
 up a forefinger. "Well, I have told you their redness is 
 fatal to good resolutions." 
 
 " after he has astounded me by his seventh avowal. 
 And I shall behave in precisely the same manner the 
 eighth time he recurs to the repugnant subject." 
 
 "But the ninth time?" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "He has remarkably expressive eyes," Miss Allonby 
 stated, "and really, Mr. Erwyn, it is the most lovable 
 creature when it raves about my flint-heartedness and 
 cutting its poor throat and murdering every man I ever 
 nodded to !" 
 
 "Ah, youth, youth!" sighed Mr. Erwyn. "Dear child, 
 I pray you, do not trifle with the happiness that is within 
 your grasp! Si jeunesse savait the proverb is some 
 what musty. But we who have attained the St. Martin s 
 summer of our lives and have grown capable of but a 
 calm and tempered affection at the utmost we cannot 
 but look wistfully upon the raptures and ignorance of 
 youth, and we would warn you, were it possible, of the 
 many dangers whereby you are encompassed. For Love 
 is a deity that must not be trifled with; his voice may 
 chaunt the requiem of all which is bravest in our 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS S3 
 
 mingled natures, or sound a stave of such nobility as 
 heartens us through life. He is kindly, but implacable; 
 beneficent, a bestower of all gifts upon the faithful, a be- 
 stower of very terrible gifts upon those that flout him; 
 and I who speak to you have seen my own contentment 
 blighted, by just such flippant jesting with Love s omnipo 
 tence, before the edge of my first razor had been dulled. 
 Tis true, I have lived since in indifferent comfort; yet 
 it is but a dreary banquet where there is no platter laid 
 for Love, and within the chambers of my heart dust- 
 gathering now, my dear ! he has gone unfed these fifteen 
 years or more." 
 
 "Ah, goodness!" sighed Miss Allonby, touched by the 
 ardor of his speech. "And so, you have loved Mother 
 all of fifteen years?" 
 
 "Nay, split me !" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "Your servant, sir," said the voice of Lady Allonby; 
 "I trust you young people have adjusted matters to your 
 satisfaction?" 
 
 Ill 
 
 "Dear madam," cried Miss Allonby, "I am overjoyed !" 
 then kissed her step-mother vigorously and left the room, 
 casting in passage an arch glance at Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "O vulgarity!" said Lady Allonby, recovering her 
 somewhat rumpled dignity, "the sweet child is yet un 
 polished. But, I suppose, we may regard the matter 
 as settled?" 
 
 "Yes," said Mr. Erwyn, "I think, dear lady, we may 
 with safety regard the matter as settled." 
 
 "Dorothy is of an excitable nature," she observed, and 
 
54 GALLANTRY 
 
 seated herself upon the divan ; "and you, dear Mr. Erwyn, 
 who know women so thoroughly, will overlook the agita 
 tion of an artless girl placed in quite unaccustomed cir 
 cumstances. Nay, I myself was affected by my first 
 declaration." 
 
 "Doubtless," said Mr. Erwyn, and sank beside her, 
 "Lord Stephen was very moving." 
 
 "I can assure you," said she, smiling, "that he was not 
 the first." 
 
 "F gad," said he, "I remember perfectly, in the old 
 days, when you were betrothed to that black-visaged 
 young parson " 
 
 "Well, I do not remember anything of the sort," Lady 
 Allonby stated ; and she flushed. 
 
 "You wore a blue gown," he said. 
 
 "Indeed?" said she. 
 
 "And" 
 
 "La, if I did," said Lady Allonby, "I have quite for 
 gotten it, and it is now your manifest duty to do like 
 wise." 
 
 "Never in all these years," said Mr. Erwyn, sighing, 
 "have I been able to forget it." 
 
 "I was but a girl, and twas natural that at first I should 
 be mistaken in my fancies," Lady Allonby told him, pre 
 cisely as she had told Simon Orts : "and at all events, there 
 is nothing less well-bred than a good memory. I would 
 decline to remain in the same room with one were it not 
 that Dorothy has deserted you in this strange fashion. 
 Whither, pray, has she gone?" 
 
 Mr. Erwyn smiled. "Her tender heart," said Mr. 
 Erwyn, "is affected by the pathetic and moving spectacle 
 of the poor hungry swans, pining for their native land 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 55 
 
 and made a raree-show for visitors in the Pantiles; and 
 she has gone to stay them with biscuits and to comfort 
 them with cakes." 
 
 "Really!" said Lady Allonby. 
 
 "And," Mr. Erwyn continued, "to defend her from the 
 possible ferocity of the gold-fish, Captain Audaine had 
 obligingly afforded service as an escort." 
 
 "Oh," said Lady Allonby; then added, "in the cir 
 cumstances she might permissibly have broken the en 
 gagement." 
 
 "But there is no engagement," said Mr. Erwyn "as 
 yet." 
 
 "Indeed?" said she. 
 
 "Harkee," said he ; "should he make a declaration this 
 afternoon she will refuse him." 
 
 "Why, but of course!" Lady Allonby marveled. 
 
 "And the eighth time," said he. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," said she; "but at whatever are you 
 hinting?" 
 
 "Yet the ninth time" 
 
 "Well, what is it, you grinning monster?" 
 
 Mr. Erwyn allowed himself a noiseless chuckle. 
 "After the ninth time," Mr. Erwyn declared, "there will 
 be an engagement." 
 
 "Mr. Erwyn !" cried Lady Allonby, with widened eyes, 
 "I had understood that Dorothy looked favorably upon 
 your suit." 
 
 "Anastasia!" cried he; and then his finger-tips lightly 
 caressed his brow. " Tis the first I had heard of it," 
 said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "Surely" she began. 
 
 "Nay, but far more surely," said he, "in consideration 
 
56 GALLANTRY 
 
 of the fact that, not a half-hour since, you deigned to 
 promise me your hand in marriage " 
 
 "O la now !" cried Lady Allonby ; and, recovering her 
 self, smiled courteously. " Tis the first I had heard of 
 it," said she. 
 
 They stared at each other in wonderment. Then Lady 
 Allonby burst into laughter. 
 
 "D ye mean ?" said she. 
 
 "Indeed/ said Mr. Erwyn, "so unintentional was I of 
 aspiring to Miss Allonby s affections that all my soul 
 was set upon possessing the heart and person of a lady, 
 in my humble opinion, far more desirable." 
 
 "I had not dreamed " she commenced. 
 
 "Behold," said Mr. Erwyn, bitterly, "how rightly is 
 my presumption punished. For I, with a fop s audacity, 
 had thought my love for you of sufficient moment to have 
 been long since observed ; and, strong in my conceit, had 
 scorned a pleasing declaration made up of faint phrases 
 and whining ballad-endings. I spoke as my heart 
 prompted me ; but the heart has proven a poor counsellor, 
 dear lady, and now am I rewarded. For you had not 
 even known of my passion, and that which my presump 
 tion had taken for a reciprocal tenderness proves in the 
 ultimate but a kindly aspiration to further my union 
 with another." 
 
 "D ye love me, toad?" said Lady Allonby, and very 
 softly. 
 
 "Indeed," said Mr. Erwyn, "I have loved you all my 
 life, first with a boyish inclination that I scarce knew 
 was love, and, after your marriage with an honorable 
 man had severed us, as I thought, irrevocably, with such 
 love as an ingenuous person may bear a woman whom 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 57 
 
 both circumstances and the respect in which he holds her 
 have placed beyond his reach, a love that might not be 
 spoken, but of which I had considered you could never 
 be ignorant." 
 
 "Mr. Erwyn," said she, "at least I have not been 
 ignorant " 
 
 "They had each one of them some feature that re 
 minded me of you. That was the truth of it, a truth so 
 patent that we will not discuss it. Instead, dear madam, 
 do you for the moment grant a losing gamester the right 
 to rail at adverse fate! for I shall trouble you no more. 
 Since your widowhood I have pursued you with atten 
 tions which, I now perceive, must at many times have 
 proven distasteful. But my adoration had blinded me; 
 and I shall trouble you no more. I have been too serious, 
 I did not know that our affair was but a comedy of the 
 eternal duel between man and woman; nor am I sorry, 
 dear opponent, that you have conquered. For how valor- 
 ously you fought ! Eh, let it be ! for you have triumphed 
 in this duel, O puissant lady, and I yield the victor 
 a devoted and, it may be, a rather heavy heart; and I 
 shall trouble you no more." 
 
 "Ah, sir," said Lady Allonby, "you are aware that 
 once " 
 
 "Indeed," said Mr. Erwyn, " twas the sand on which 
 I builded. But I am wiser now, and I perceive that the 
 feeling you entertain toward me is but the pallid shadow 
 of a youthful inclination. I shall not presume upon it. 
 Oh, I am somewhat proud, dear Anastasia ; I have freely 
 given you my heart, such as it is; and were you minded 
 to accept it, even at the eleventh hour, through friendship 
 or through pity only, I would refuse. For my love of 
 
58 GALLANTRY 
 
 you has been the one pure and quite unselfish emotion 
 of my life, and I may not barter it for an affection of 
 lesser magnitude either in kind or in degree. And so, 
 farewell!" 
 
 "Yet hold, dear sir" said Lady Allonby. "Lord, but 
 will you never let me have the woman s privilege of 
 talking!" 
 
 "Nay, but I am, as ever, at your service," . said Mr. 
 Erwyn, and he paused in transit for the door. 
 
 " since, as this betokens " 
 
 " Tis a tasteful handkerchief," said Mr. Erwyn "but 
 somewhat moist !" 
 
 "And my eyes?" 
 
 "Red," said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "I have been weeping, toad, with my head on the pin 
 cushion, and the maid trying to tipsify me with brandy." 
 
 "Why?" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "I thought you were to marry Dorothy." 
 
 Mr. Erwyn resumed his seat. "You objected?" he 
 said. 
 
 "I think, old monster," Lady Allonby replied, "that I 
 would entertain the same objection to seeing any woman 
 thus sacrificed " 
 
 "Well?" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 "except" 
 
 "Incomparable Anastasia!" said Mr. Erwyn. 
 
 IV 
 
 Afterward these two sat long in the twilight, talking 
 very little, and with their eyes rarely meeting, although 
 their hands met frequently at quite irrelevant intervals. 
 
LOVE AT MARTINMAS 59 
 
 Just the graze of a butterfly to make it certain that the 
 other was there : but all the while they both regarded the 
 tiny fire which had set each content of the room a-dancing 
 in the companionable darkness. For each, I take it, pre 
 ferred to think of the other as being still the naive young 
 person each remembered ; and the firelight made such 
 thinking easier. 
 
 "D ye remember ?" was woven like a refrain through 
 their placid duo .... 
 
 It was, one estimates, their highest hour. Frivolous 
 and trivial persons you might have called them and have 
 justified the accusation; but even to the fop and the 
 coquette was granted an hour wherein all human hap 
 penings seemed to be ordered by supernal wisdom lov 
 ingly. Very soon they would forget this hour; mean 
 while there was a wonderful sense of dreams come true. 
 
Ill 
 
 THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 
 As Played at Tunbridge Wells, April i, 1750 
 
 "But this is the most cruel thing, to marry one does 
 not know how, nor why, nor wherefore. Gad, I never 
 liked anybody less in my life. Poor woman! Gad, I m 
 sorry for her, too; for I have no reason to hate her 
 neither; but I wish we could keep it secret! why, I don t 
 believe any of this company would speak of it! 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 CAPTAIN AUDAINE, of a pompous and handsome person, 
 
 and loves Miss Allonby. 
 LORD HUMPHREY DEGGE, younger son to the Marquis of 
 
 Venour, makes love to Miss Allonby. 
 GERALD ALLONBY, brother to Miss Allonby, a true raw 
 
 Squire. 
 
 MR. ERWYN, betrothed to Lady Allonby. 
 VANRINGHAM, an impudent tragedian of the Globe 
 
 Company. 
 QUARMBY, Vanringham s associate. 
 
 Miss ALLONBY, an heiress, of a petulant humor, in love 
 
 with Audaine. 
 MARCHIONESS OF FALMOUTH, an impertinent affected 
 
 dowager, and grandmother to Miss Allonby. 
 LADY ALLONBY, step-mother to Miss Allonby and Gerald. 
 
 POSTILIONS, SERVANTS, Etc. 
 
 SCENE 
 
 Tunbridge Wells, thence shifting to Chetwode Lodge, Mr. 
 Babington-Herle s house, on Rusthall Common, 
 within two miles of the town. 
 
 62 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 
 PROEM: Introductive of Captain Francis Audaine 
 
 IT appears convenient here to pursue Miss Allonby 
 on her stroll about the Pantiles in company with 
 Captain Audaine. The latter has been at pains to 
 record the events of the afternoon and evening, so that 
 I give you his own account of them, though I abridge in 
 consideration of his leisured style. Pompous and ver 
 bose I grant the Captain, even in curtailment ; but you are 
 to remember these were the faults 1 of his age, ingrained 
 and defiant of deletion ; and should you elect to peruse his 
 memoirs * you will find that I have considerately spared, 
 you a majority of the digressions to which the future 
 Earl of Garendon was lamentably addicted. 
 
 For the purpose of my tale you are to view him as Tun- 
 bridge did at this particular time: as a handsome and 
 formal person, twenty-eight years old or thereabouts, of 
 whom nobody knew anything quite definite beyond the 
 genealogic inference to be drawn from a smatch of the 
 brogue save that after a correspondence of gallantries, 
 of some three weeks duration, he was the manifest slave 
 of Miss Dorothy Allonby, and had already fought three 
 
 1 There appears to have been no American edition since that, 
 in 1836, printed in Philadelphia, "for Thomas Wardle, No. 15 
 Minor Street." In England the memoirs of Lord Garendon are 
 to all appearance equally hard to come by, and seem to have been 
 out of print since 1907. 
 
 63 
 
64 GALLANTRY 
 
 duels behind Ormerod House, with Will Pratchet, Lord 
 Humphrey Degge, and Sir Eugene Harrable, respectively, 
 each one of whom was a declared suitor for her hand. 
 And with this prelude I begin on my transcription. 
 
 Miss Allonby (says Captain Audaine) was that after 
 noon in a mighty cruel humor. Though I had omitted 
 no reasonable method to convince her of the immensity 
 of my passion, twas without the twitch of an eyelash 
 she endured the volley of my sighs and the fusillade of 
 my respectful protestations; and candor compels me to 
 admit that toward the end her silvery laughter disrupted 
 the periods of a most elegant and sensible peroration. 
 And when the affair was concluded, and for the seventh 
 time I had implored her to make me the happiest of men, 
 the rogue merely observed : "But I don t want to marry 
 you. Why on earth should I?" 
 
 "For the sake of peace," I replied, "and in self -protec 
 tion, since as long as you stay obdurate I shall continue- 
 to importune, and by and by I shall pester you to death." 
 
 "Indeed, I think it more than probable," she returned ; 
 "for you dog me like a bailiff. I am cordially a-weary, 
 Captain Audaine, of your incessant persecutions; and, 
 after all, marrying you is perhaps the civilest way to be 
 rid of both them and you." 
 
 But by this I held each velvet-soft and tiny hand. 
 "Nay," I dissented ; "the subject is somewhat too sacred 
 for jest. I am no modish lover, dearest and best of 
 creatures, to regard marriage as the. thrifty purchase of 
 an estate, and the lady as so much bed- furniture thrown 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 65 
 
 in with the mansion. I love you with completeness : and 
 give me leave to assure you, madam, with a freedom 
 which I think permissible on so serious an occasion that, 
 even as beautiful as you are, I could never be contented 
 with your person without your heart." 
 
 She sat with eyes downcast, all one blush. Miss 
 Dorothy Allonby was in the bloom of nineteen, and shone 
 with every charm peculiar to her sex. But I have no 
 mind to weary you with poetical rhodomontades till, as 
 most lovers do, I have proven her a paragon and myself 
 an imbecile: it suffices to say that her face, and shape, 
 and mien, and wit, alike astounded and engaged all those 
 who had the happiness to know her; and had long ago 
 rendered her the object of my entire adoration and the 
 target of my daily rhapsodies. Now I viewed her with 
 a dissension of the liveliest hopes and fears ; for she had 
 hesitated, and had by this hesitation conceded my ad 
 dresses to be not irretrievably repugnant ; and within the 
 instant I knew that any life undevoted to her service and 
 protection could be but a lingering disease. 
 
 But by and by, "You shall have your answer this eve 
 ning," she said, and so left me. 
 
 I fathomed the meaning of "this evening" well enough. 
 For my adored Dorothy was all romance, and by pref 
 erence granted me rendezvous in the back garden, where 
 she would tantalize me nightly, from her balcony, after 
 the example of the Veronese lady in Shakespeare s 
 spirited tragedy, which she prodigiously admired. As 
 concerns myself, a reasonable liking for romance had been 
 of late somewhat tempered by the inclemency of the 
 weather and the obvious unfriendliness of the dog; but 
 there is no resisting a lady s commands ; and clear or foul, 
 
66 GALLANTRY 
 
 you might at any twilight s death have found me under 
 her window, where a host of lyric phrases asserted the 
 devotion which a cold in the head confirmed. 
 
 This night was black as a coal-pit. Strolling beneath 
 the casement, well wrapt in my cloak (for it drizzled), I 
 meditated impartially upon the perfections of my dear 
 mistress and the tyrannic despotism of love. Being the 
 source of our existence, tis not unreasonably, perhaps, 
 that this passion assumes the proprietorship of our 
 destinies and exacts of all mankind a common tribute. 
 To-night, at least, I viewed the world as a brave pavilion, 
 lighted by the stars and swept by the clean winds of 
 heaven, wherein we enacted varied roles with God as 
 audience; where, in turn, we strutted or cringed about 
 the stage, where, in turn, we were beset and rent by an 
 infinity of passions; but where every man must play the 
 part of lover. That passion alone, I said, is universal ; it 
 set wise Solomon a- jigging in criminal byways, and sin 
 ewy Hercules himself was no stranger to its inquietudes 
 and joys. And I cried aloud with the Roman, Parce 
 precorf and afterward upon high Heaven to make me a 
 little worthier of Dorothy. 
 
 II 
 
 Engrossed in meditations such as these, I was fetched 
 earthward by the clicking of a lock, and, turning, saw 
 the door beneath her balcony unclose and afford egress 
 to a slender and hooded figure. My amazement was con 
 siderable and my felicity beyond rhetoric. 
 
 "Dorothy!" I whispered. 
 
 "Come!" was her response; and her finger-tips rested 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 67 
 
 upon my arm the while that she guided me toward the 
 gateway opening into Jervis Lane. I followed with a 
 trepidation you may not easily conceive; nor was this 
 diminished when I found awaiting us a post-chaise, into 
 which my angel hastily tripped. 
 
 I babbled I know not what inarticulate nonsense. But, 
 "Heavens !" she retorted, "d ye mean to keep the parson 
 waiting all night?" 
 
 This was her answer, then. Well, twas more than I 
 could have hoped for, though to a man of any sensibility 
 this summary disposal of our love-affair could not but 
 vaguely smack of the distasteful. Say what you will, 
 every gentleman has about him somewhere a tincture of 
 that venerable and artless age when wives were taken 
 by capture and were retained by force; he prefers to 
 have the lady hold off until the very last ; and properly, 
 her tongue must sound defiance long after melting eyes 
 have signalled that the traitorous heart of her, like an 
 anatomical Tarpeia, is ready to betray the citadel and 
 yield the treasury of her charms. 
 
 Nevertheless, I stepped into the vehicle. The postilion 
 was off in a twinkling, as the saying is, over the rough 
 est road in England. Conversation was impossible, for 
 Dorothy and I were jostling like two pills in a box ; and 
 as the first observation I attempted resulted in a badly 
 bitten tongue, I prudently held my peace. 
 
 This endured for, perhaps, a quarter of an hour, at the 
 end of which period the post-chaise on a sudden stopped, 
 and I assisted my companion to alight. Before us was a 
 villa of considerable dimension, and situate, so far as I 
 could immediately detect, in the midst of a vast and 
 desolate moor; there was no trace of human habitation 
 
GALLANTRY 
 
 within the radius of the eye; and the house itself 
 presented not a glimpse of tenancy or illumination. 
 
 "O Lord, madam " I began. 
 
 "Hasten!" spoke a voice from within the Parsonage. 
 And Dorothy drew me toward a side door, overhung 
 with ivy, where, sure enough, a dim light burned. Twas 
 but a solitary candle stuck upon a dresser at the remoter 
 end of a large and low-ceiled apartment; and in this 
 flickering obscurity we found a tremulous parson in full 
 canonicals, who had united our hands and gabbled half 
 way through the marriage service before I had the 
 slightest notion of what was befalling me. 
 
 And such is the unreasonable disposition of mankind 
 that the attainment of my most ardent desires aroused a 
 feeling not altogether unakin to irritation. This skulking 
 celerity, this hole-and-corner business, I thought, was in 
 ill-accord with the respect due to a sacrament; and I 
 could have wished my marriage to have borne a less 
 striking resemblance to the conference of three thieves 
 in a cellar. But twas over in two twos. Within scantier 
 time than it takes to tell of it, Francis and Dorothy were 
 made one, and I had turned to salute my wife. 
 
 She gave a shriek of intolerable anguish. "Heavens!" 
 said she, "I have married the wrong man!" 
 
 Ill 
 
 Without delay I snatched up the guttering candle and 
 held it to my wife s countenance. You can conceive 
 that twas with no pleasurable emotion I discovered I had 
 inadvertently espoused the Dowager Marchioness of 
 Falmouth, my adored Dorothy s grandmother; and in 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 69 
 
 frankness I can t deny that the lady seemed equally dis 
 satisfied : words failed us ; and the newly wedded couple 
 stared at each other in silence. 
 
 "Captain Audaine," said she, at last, "the situation is 
 awkward." 
 
 "Sure, madam," I returned, "and that is the precise 
 thought which has just occurred to me." 
 
 "And I am of the opinion," she continued, "that you 
 owe me some sort of explanation. For I had planned to 
 elope with Mr. Vanringham " 
 
 "Do I understand your Ladyship to allude to Mr. 
 Francis Vanringham, the play-actor, at present the talk 
 of Tunbridge?" 
 
 She bowed a grave response. 
 
 "This is surprising news," said I. "And grant me 
 leave to tell you that a woman of mature years, possessed 
 of an abundant fortune and unassailable gentility, does 
 not by ordinary sneak out of the kitchen door to meet a 
 raddle-faced actor in the middle of the night. Tis, in 
 deed, a circumstance to stagger human credulity. Oh, 
 believe me, madam, for a virtuous woman the back garden 
 is not a fitting approach to the altar, nor is a comedian 
 an appropriate companion there at eleven o clock in the 
 evening." 
 
 "Hey, my fine fellow," says my wife, "and what were 
 you doing in the back garden?" 
 
 "Among all true lovers," I returned, "it is an immemo 
 rial custom to prowl like sentinels beneath the windows 
 of the beauteous adored. And I, madam, had the 
 temerity to aspire toward an honorable union with your 
 granddaughter." 
 
 She wrung her withered hands. "That any reputable 
 
70 GALLANTRY 
 
 woman should have nocturnal appointments with gentle 
 men in the back garden, and beguile her own grand 
 mother into an odious marriage! I protest, Captain 
 Audaine, the degenerate world of to-day is no longer a 
 suitable residence for a lady!" 
 
 "Look you, sir, this is a cruel bad business," the Parson 
 here put in. He was pacing the apartment in an alterca 
 tion of dubiety and amaze. "Mr. Vanringham will be 
 vexed." 
 
 "You will pardon me," I retorted, "if I lack pity to 
 waste upon your Mr. Vanringham, At present I devote 
 all funds of compassion to my own affairs. Am I, 
 indeed, to understand that this lady and I are legally 
 married ?" 
 
 He rubbed his chin. "By the Lord Harry," says he, 
 " tis a case that lacks precedents ! But the coincidence 
 of the Christian names is devilish awkward; the service 
 takes no cognizance of surnames; and I have merely 
 united a Francis and a Dorothy." 
 
 "O Lord, Mr. What-d ye-call-um," said I, "then there 
 is but one remedy and that is an immediate divorce." 
 
 My wife shrieked. "Have you no sense of decency, 
 Captain Audaine? Never has there been a divorce in 
 my family. And shall I be the first to drag that honored 
 name into a public court, to have my reputation worried 
 at the bar by a parcel of sniggering lawyers, while the 
 town wits buzz about it like flies around carrion ? I pray 
 you, do not suggest any such hideous thing." 
 
 "Here s the other Francis," says the Parson, at this 
 point. And it was, a raffish, handsome, slender, red- 
 haired fellow, somewhat suggestive of the royal duke, yet 
 rather more like a sneak-thief, and with a whiff some- 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 71 
 
 where of the dancing-master. At first glance you recog 
 nized in the actor a personage, for he compelled the eye 
 with a monstrous vividness of color and gesture. To 
 night he had missed his lady at their rendezvous, owing 
 to my premature appearance, and had followed us 
 post-haste. 
 
 "My Castalio!" she screamed. "My Beaugard !" * She 
 ran to him, and with disjointed talk and quavering ut 
 terance disclosed the present lamentable posture of 
 affairs. 
 
 And I found the tableau they presented singular. My 
 wife had been a toast, they tell me, in Queen Anne s time, 
 and even now the lean and restless gentlewoman showed 
 as the abandoned house of youth and wit and beauty, 
 with here and there a trace of the old occupancy ; always 
 her furtive eyes shone with a cold and shifting glitter, 
 as though a frightened imp peeped through a mask of 
 Hecuba ; and in every movement there was an ineffable 
 touch of something loosely hinged and fantastic. In a 
 word, the Marchioness was not unconscionably sane, and 
 was known far and wide as a gallant woman resolutely 
 oblivious to the batterings of time, and so avid of flattery 
 that she was ready to smile on any man who durst give 
 the lie to her looking-glass. Demented landlady of her 
 heart, she would sublet that antiquated chamber to the 
 first adventurer who came prepared to pay his scot in 
 the false coin of compliment; and twas not difficult to 
 
 1 1 never saw the rascal act, thank Heaven, since in that event, 
 report assures me, I might conceivably have accredited him with 
 the possession of some meritorious qualities, however trivial ; but, 
 it appears, these two above-mentioned roles were the especial 
 puppetry in which Mr. Vanringham was most successful in wring 
 ing tears and laughter from the injudicious. F. A. 
 
72 GALLANTRY 
 
 comprehend how this young Thespian had acquired its 
 tenancy. 
 
 But now the face of Mr. Vanringham was attenuated 
 by her revelations, and the wried mouth of Mr. Vanring 
 ham suggested that the party be seated, in order to con 
 sider more at ease the unfortunate contretemps. Fresh 
 lights were kindled, as one and all were past fear of dis 
 covery by this; and we four assembled about a table 
 which occupied the centre of the apartment. 
 
 IV 
 
 "The situation," Mr. Vanringham, began, "may reason 
 ably be described as desperate. Here we sit, four ruined 
 beings. For Dr. Quarmby has betrayed an unoffending 
 couple into involuntary matrimony, an act of which his 
 Bishop can scarcely fail to take official notice; Captain 
 Audaine and the Marchioness are entrapped into a love 
 less marriage, than which there mayn t be a greater 
 misery in life; and my own future, I needn t add, is ir 
 revocably blighted by the loss of my respected Dorothy, 
 without whom continued animation must necessarily be a 
 hideous and hollow mockery. Yet there occurs to me a 
 panacea for these disasters." 
 
 "Then, indeed, Mr. Vanringham," said I, "there is one 
 of us who will be uncommonly glad to know the name 
 of it." 
 
 He faced me with a kind of compassion in his wide- 
 set brown eyes. "You, sir, have caused a sweet and 
 innocent lady to marry you against her will Oho, be 
 yond doubt, your intentions were immaculate; but the 
 outcome remains in its stark enormity, and the hand of 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 73 
 
 an inquisitive child is not ordinarily salved by its previous 
 ignorance as to the corrosive properties of fire. You 
 have betrayed confiding womanhood, an act abhorrent to 
 all notions of gentility. There is but one conclusive 
 proof of your repentance. Need I mention that I allude 
 to self-destruction?" 
 
 "O Lord, sir," I observed, "suicide is a deadly sin, 
 and I would not willingly insult any gentlewoman by 
 evincing so marked a desire for the devil s company* in 
 preference to hers." 
 
 "Your argument is sophistry," he returned, "since tis 
 your death alone that can endear you to your bride. 
 Death is the ultimate and skilled assayer of alloyed hu 
 manity: and by his art our gross constituents our 
 foibles, our pettinesses, nay, our very crimes are precipi 
 tated into the cofHn, the while that his crucible sets free 
 the volatile pure essence, and shows as undefiled by all 
 life s accidents that part of divinity which harbors in the 
 vilest bosom. This only is remembered : this only mounts, 
 like an ethereal spirit, to hallow the finished-with 
 blunderer s renown, and reverently to enshrine his body s 
 resting-place. Ah, no, Captain Audaine! death alone 
 may canonize the husband. Once you re dead, your wife 
 will adore you; once you re dead, your wife and I have 
 before us an open road to connubial felicity, a road which, 
 living, you sadly encumber; and only when he has de 
 livered your funeral oration may Dr. Quarmby be exempt 
 from apprehension lest his part in your marriage cere 
 mony bring about his defrockment. I urge the greatest 
 good for the greatest number, Captain ; living, you plunge 
 all four of us into suffering; whereas the nobility of an 
 immediate felo-de-se will in common decency exalt your 
 
74 GALLANTRY 
 
 soul to Heaven accompanied and endorsed by the fervent 
 prayers of three grateful hearts." 
 
 "And by the Lord Harry," says the Parson ; "while no 
 clergyman extant has a more cordial aversion to suicide, 
 I cannot understand why a prolonged existence should 
 tempt you. You love Miss Dorothy Allonby, as all Tun- 
 bridge knows; and to a person of sensibility, what can 
 be more awkward than to have thrust upon him grand- 
 f athership of the adored one ? You must in this position 
 necessarily be exposed to the committal of a thousand 
 gaucheries; and if you insist upon your irreligious pro 
 ject of procuring a divorce, what, I ask, can be your 
 standing with the lady ? Can she smile upon the suit of 
 an individual who has publicly cast aside the sworn love 
 and obedience of the being to whom she owes her very 
 existence? or will any clergyman in England participate 
 in the union of a woman to her ex-grandfather? Nay, 
 believe me, sir, tis less the selfishness than the folly of 
 your clinging to this vale of tears which I deplore. And 
 I protest that this rope" he fished up a coil from the 
 corner "appears to have been deposited here by a benign 
 and all-seeing Providence to suggest the manifold ad 
 vantages of hanging yourself as compared with the untidy 
 operation of cutting one s throat." 
 
 "And conceive, sir," says my wife, "what must be the 
 universal grief for the bridegroom so untimelily taken off 
 in the primal crescence of his honeymoon! Your funeral 
 will be unparalleled both for sympathy and splendor; 
 all Tunbridge will attend in tears ; and twill afford me a 
 melancholy but sincere pleasure to extend to you the hos 
 pitality of the Allonby mausoleum, which many connois- 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 75 
 
 seurs have accounted the finest in the three kingdoms." 
 
 "I must venture," said I, "to terminate this very 
 singular conversation. You have, one and all, set forth 
 the advantages of my immediate demise ; your logic is un 
 assailable and has proven suicide my plain duty ; and my 
 rebuttal is confined to the statement that I will see every 
 one of you damned before I ll do it." 
 
 Mr. Francis Vanringham rose with a little bow. "You 
 have insulted both womanhood and the Established 
 Church by the spitting out of that ribald oath; and me 
 you have with equal levity wronged by the theft of my 
 affianced bride. I am only a play-actor, but in inflicting 
 an insult a gentleman must either lift his inferior to his 
 own station or else forfeit his gentility. I wear a sword, 
 Captain Auclaine. Heyho, will you grant me the usual 
 satisfaction?" 
 
 "My fascinating comedian," said I, "if tis a fight you 
 are desirous of, I can assure you that in my present state 
 I would cross swords with a costermonger, or the devil, 
 or the Archbishop of Canterbury, with equal impartiality. 
 But scarcely in the view of a lady, and, therefore, as you 
 boast the greater influence in that quarter, will you 
 kindly advise the withdrawal of yonder unexpected addi 
 tion to my family?" 
 
 "There s an inner room," says he, pointing to the door 
 behind me; and I held it open as my wife swept through. 
 
 "You are the epitome of selfishness," she flung out, in 
 passing; "for had you possessed an ounce of gallantry, 
 you would long ago have freed me from this odious mar 
 riage." 
 
 "Sure, madam," I returned, with a congee; "and is it 
 
76 GALLANTRY 
 
 not rather a compliment that I so willingly forfeit a 
 superlunar bliss in order to retain the pleasure of your 
 society ?" 
 
 She sniffed, and I closed the door; and within the 
 moment the two men fell upon me, from the rear, and 
 presently had me trussed like a fowl and bound with that 
 abominable Parson s coil of rope. 
 
 "Believe me," says Mr. Vanringham, now seated upon 
 the table and indolently dangling his heels, the ecclesi 
 astical monstrosity, having locked the door upon Mrs. 
 Audaine, had occupied a chair and was composedly smok 
 ing a churchwarden, "believe me, I lament the neces 
 sity of this uncouth proceeding. But heyho! man is a 
 selfish animal. You take me, sir, my affection for yon 
 der venerable lady does not keep me awake o nights; 
 yet is a rich marriage the only method to amend my 
 threadbare fortunes, so that I cheerfully avail myself of 
 her credulity. By God!" cried he, with a quick raising 
 of the voice, "to -morrow I had been a landed gentleman 
 but for you, you blundering omadhaun ! And is a shabby 
 merry-andrew from the devil knows where to pop in and 
 spoil the prettiest plot was ever hatched?" 
 
 Twas like a flare of lightnjng, this sudden outburst of 
 malignity ; for you saw in it, quintessentialized, the man s 
 stark and venomous hatred of a world which had ill-used 
 him ; and twas over with too as quickly as the lightning, 
 yielding to the pleasantest smile imaginable. Meanwhile 
 you are to picture me, and my emotions, as I lay beneath 
 his oscillating toes, entirely helpless. 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 77 
 
 " Twas not that I lacked the courage to fight you," he 
 continues, "nor the skill, either. But there is always the 
 possibility that by some awkward thrust or other you 
 might deprive the stage of a distinguished ornament ; and 
 as a sincere admirer of my genius, I must, in decency, 
 avoid such risks. Twas necessary to me, of course, that 
 you be got out of this world speedily, since a further con 
 tinuance of your blunderings would interfere with my 
 plans for the future; having gone thus far, I cannot 
 reasonably be expected to cede my interest in the 
 Marchioness and her estate. Accordingly I decide upon 
 the handiest method and tip the wink to Quarmby here; 
 the lady quits the apartment in order to afford us 
 opportunity to settle our pretensions, with cutlery as 
 arbiter; and she will return to find your perforated car 
 cass artistically displayed in yonder extremity of the room. 
 Slain in an affair of honor, my dear Captain ! The dis 
 puted damsel will think none the worse of me, a man of 
 demonstrated valor and affection ; Quarmby and I ll bury 
 you in the cellar ; and being freed from her recent and un 
 fortunate alliance, my esteemed Dorothy will seek con 
 solation in the embraces of a more acceptable spouse. 
 Confess, sir, is it not a scheme of Arcadian simplicity?" 
 
 Twas the most extraordinary sensation to note the 
 utterly urbane and cheerful countenance with which Mr. 
 Vanringham disclosed the meditated atrocity. This un 
 principled young man was about to run me through with 
 no more compunction than a naturalist in the act of 
 pinning a new beetle among his collection may momen 
 tarily be aware of. 
 
 Then my quickened faculties were stirred on a sudden, 
 and for the first time I opened my mouth. Whatever 
 
78 GALLANTRY 
 
 claim I had upon Vanringham, there was no need to ad 
 vance it now. 
 
 "You were about to say ?" he queried. 
 
 "I was about to relieve a certain surplusage of emo 
 tion," I retorted, "by observing that I regret to find you, 
 sir, a chattering, lean-witted fool a vain and improvi 
 dent fool!" 
 
 "Harsh words, my Captain," says he, with lifted eye 
 brows. 
 
 "O Lord, sir, but not of an undeserved asperity!" I 
 returned. "D ye think the Marchioness, her flighty head 
 crammed with scraps of idiotic romance, would elope 
 without regard for the canons of romance? Not so; de 
 pend upon it, a letter was left upon her pin-cushion an 
 nouncing her removal with you, and in the most approved 
 heroic style arraigning the obduracy of her unsympathetic 
 grandchildren. D ye think Gerald Allonby will not fol 
 low her ? Sure, and he will ; and the proof is," I added, 
 "that you may hear his horses yonder on the heath, as I 
 heard them some moments ago." 
 
 Vanringham leaped to the floor and stood thus, all 
 tension. He raised clenched, quivering hands toward 
 the ceiling. "O King of Jesters!" he cried, in horrid 
 blasphemy ; and then again, "O King of Jesters !" 
 
 And by this time men were shouting without, and at 
 the door there was a prodigious and augmenting hammer 
 ing. And the Parson wrung his hands and began to 
 shake like a dish of jelly in a thunder-storm. 
 
 "Captain Audaine," Mr. Vanringham resumed, with 
 more tranquillity, "you are correct. Clidamira and 
 Parthenissa would never have fled into the night without 
 leaving a note upon the pin-cushion. The folly I kindled 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 79 
 
 in your wife s addled pate has proven my ruin. Remains 
 to make the best of Hobson s choice." He unlocked the 
 door. "Gentlemen, gentlemen!" says he, with deprecat 
 ing hand, "surely this disturbance is somewhat outre, a 
 trifle misplaced, upon the threshold of a bridal-chamber?" 
 
 Then Gerald Allonby thrust into the room, followed 
 by Lord Humphrey Degge, 1 my abhorred rival for Dor 
 othy s affection, and two attendants. 
 
 "My grandmother!" shrieks Gerald. "Villain, what 
 have you done with my grandmother ?" 
 
 "The query were more fitly put," Vanringham retorts, 
 "to the lady s husband." And he waves his hand toward 
 me. 
 
 Thereupon the new-comers unbound me with vari 
 ous exclamations of wonder. "And now," I observed, "I 
 would suggest that you bestow upon Mr. Vanringham and 
 yonder blot upon the Church of England the bonds from 
 which I have been recently manumitted, or, at the very 
 least, keep a vigilant watch upon those more than suspi 
 cious characters, the while that I narrate the surprising 
 events of this evening." 
 
 VI 
 
 Subsequently I made a clean breast of affairs to Gerald 
 and Lord Humphrey Degge. They heard me with atten 
 tive, even sympathetic, countenances ; but by and by the 
 
 1 1 must in this place entreat my reader s profound discredit of 
 any aspersions I may rashly seem to cast upon this honest gen 
 tleman, whose friendship I to-day esteem as invaluable; but I 
 wrote, as always, currents calamo, and the above was penned in 
 an amorous misery, sub Venere, be it remembered; and in such 
 cases a wrong bias is easily hung upon the mind. F. A. 
 
80 GALLANTRY 
 
 face of Lord Humphrey brightened as he saw a not un- 
 formidable rival thus jockeyed from the field; and when I 
 had ended, Gerald rose and with an oath struck his open 
 palm upon the table. 
 
 "This is the most fortunate coincidence," he swears, 
 "that I have ever known of. I come prepared to find 
 my grandmother the wife of a beggarly play-actor, and 
 I discover that, to the contrary, she has contracted an 
 alliance with a gentleman for whom I entertain sincere 
 affection." 
 
 "Surely," I cried, aghast, "you cannot deliberate ac 
 ceptance of this iniquitous and inadvertent match!" 
 
 "What is your meaning, Captain Audaine?" says the 
 boy, sharply. "What other course is possible?" 
 
 "O Lord!" said I, "after to-night s imbroglio I have 
 nothing to observe concerning the possibility of anything ; 
 but if this marriage prove a legal one, I am, most in- 
 dissuadably resolved to rectify matters without delay in 
 the divorce court." 
 
 Now Gerald s brows were uglily compressed. "A di 
 vorce," said he, with an extreme of deliberation, "means 
 the airing of to-night s doings in the open. I take it, tis 
 the duty of a man of honor to preserve the reputation of 
 his grandmother stainless ; whether she be a housemaid 
 or the Queen of Portugal, her frailties are equally en 
 titled to endurance, her eccentricities to toleration : can 
 a gentleman, then, sanction any proceeding of a nature 
 calculated to make his grandmother the laughing-stock 
 of England ? The point is a nice one." 
 
 "For, conceive," said Lord Humphrey, with the most 
 knavish grin I ever knew a human countenance to pollute 
 itself with, "that the entire matter will be convoyed by 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 81 
 
 the short-hand writers to the public press, and after this 
 will be hawked about the streets; and that the venders 
 will yell particulars of your grandmother s folly under 
 your very windows; and that you must hear them in 
 impotence, and that for some months the three kingdoms 
 will hear of nothing else. Gad, I quite feel for you, my 
 dear." 
 
 "I have fallen into a nest of madmen," I cried. "You 
 know, both of you, how profoundly I adore Mr. Gerald s 
 sister, the accomplished and bewitching Miss Allonby; 
 and in any event, I demand of you, as rational beings, is 
 it equitable that I be fettered for life to an old woman s 
 apron-strings because a doctor of divinity is parsimonious 
 of his candles ?" 
 
 But Gerald had drawn with a flourish. "You have re 
 pudiated my kinswoman," says he, "and you cannot deny 
 me the customary satisfaction. Harkee, my fine fellow, 
 Dorothy will marry my friend Lord Humphrey if she 
 will be advised by me; or if she prefer it, she may marry 
 the Man in the Iron Mask or the piper that played before 
 Moses, so far as I am concerned : but as for you, I hereby 
 offer you your choice between quitting this apartment as 
 my grandfather or as a corpse." 
 
 "I won t fight you!" I shouted. "Keep the boy off, 
 Degge!" But when the infuriate lad rushed upon me, 
 I was forced, in self -protection, to draw, and after a brief 
 engagement to knock his sword across the room. 
 
 "Gerald," I pleaded, "for the love of reason, consider ! 
 I cannot fight you. Heaven knows this tragic farce hath 
 robbed me of all pretension toward your sister, and that 
 I am just now but little better than a madman; yet tis 
 her blood which exhilarates your veins, and with such 
 
82 GALLANTRY 
 
 dear and precious fluid I cannot willingly imbrue rny 
 hands. Nay, you are no swordsman, lad, keep off !" 
 
 And there I had blundered irretrievably. 
 
 "No swordsman! By God, I fling the words in your 
 face, Frank Audaine! must I send the candlestick after 
 them?" And within the instant he had caught up his 
 weapon and had hurled himself upon me, in an abandoned 
 fury. I had not moved. The boy spitted himself upon 
 my sword and fell with a horrid gasping. 
 
 "You will bear me witness, Lord Humphrey," said I, 
 "that the quarrel was not of my provokement." 
 
 But at this juncture the outer door reopened and 
 Dorothy tripped into the room, preceding Lady Allonby 
 and Mr. George Erwyn. They had followed in the fam 
 ily coach to dissuade the Marchioness from her contem 
 plated match by force or by argument, as the cat might 
 jump; and so it came about that my dear mistress and 
 I stared at each other across her brother s lifeless body. 
 
 And twas in this poignant moment I first saw her 
 truly. In a storm you have doubtless had some utterly 
 familiar scene leap from the darkness, under the lash of 
 lightning, and be for the instant made visible and strange ; 
 and I beheld her with much that awful clarity. Formerly 
 twas her beauty had ensnared me, and this I now per 
 ceived to be a fortuitous and happy medley of color and 
 glow and curve, indeed, yet nothing more. Twas the 
 wQmajiJ! jQvecl, notyher trappings ; and her^eyes were no 
 more part of her than were the jewels in^her ears. But 
 the sweet miyth of her, the brajre_lTart, the clean soul, 
 ihot girMier^elf . how good and generous and feigH and 
 tender, twas this that I now beheld, and knew that this, 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 83 
 
 too, was lost; and, in beholding, the little love of yes 
 terday fled whimpering before the sacred passion which 
 had possessed my being. And I began to laugh. 
 
 "My dear," said I, " twas to-night that you promised 
 me your answer, and to-night you observe in me alike 
 your grandfather and your brother s murderer." 
 
 VII 
 
 Lady Allonby fell to wringing her hands, but Dorothy 
 had knelt beside the prostrate form and was inspecting 
 the ravages of my fratricidal sword. "Oh, f y ! fy !" says 
 she immediately, and wrinkles her saucy nose ; "had 
 none of you the sense to perceive that Gerald was tipsy ? 
 And as for the wound, tis only a scratch here on the left 
 shoulder. Get water, somebody." And her command 
 being obeyed, she cleansed the hurt composedly and 
 bandaged it with the ruffle of her petticoat. 
 
 Meanwhile we hulking men stood thick about her, 
 fidgeting and foolishly gaping like a basket of fish; and 
 presently a sibilance of relief went about our circle as 
 Gerald opened his eyes. "Sister," says he, with a pro 
 foundly tragic face, "remember remember that I per 
 ished to preserve the honor of our family." 
 
 "To preserve a fiddlestick!" said my adored Dorothy. 
 And, rising, she confronted me, a tinted statuette of de 
 cision. "Now, Frank," says she, "I would like to know 
 the meaning of this nonsense." 
 
 And thereupon, for the second time, I recounted the 
 dreadful and huddled action of the night. 
 
 When I had ended, "The first thing," says she, "is 
 
84 GALLANTRY 
 
 to let Grandmother out of that room. And the second 
 is to show me the Parson." This was done ; the Dowager 
 entered in an extremity of sulkiness, and the Parson, on 
 being pointed out, lowered his eyes and intensified his 
 complexion. 
 
 "As I anticipated, * says my charmer, "you are, one and 
 all, a parcel of credulous infants. Tis a parson, indeed, 
 but merely the parson out of Vanbrugh s Relapse; only 
 last Friday, sir, we heartily commended your fine per 
 formance. Why, Frank, the man is one of the play 
 actors." 
 
 "I fancy," Mr. Vanringham here interpolates, "that I 
 owe the assembled company some modicum of explana 
 tion. Tis true that at the beginning of our friendship 
 I had contemplated matrimony with our amiable Mar 
 chioness, but, I confess, twas the lady s property rather 
 than her person which was the allure. And reflection 
 dissuaded me ; a legal union left me, a young and not un 
 handsome man, irrevocably fettered to an old woman ; 
 whereas a mock-marriage afforded an eternal option to 
 compound the match for a consideration with the 
 lady s relatives, to whom, I had instinctively divined, her 
 alliance with me would prove distasteful. Accordingly 
 I had availed myself of my colleague s skill * in the por 
 trayal of clerical parts rather than resort to any parson 
 whose authority was unrestricted by the footlights. And 
 accordingly " , 
 
 "And accordingly my marriage," I interrupted, "is not 
 binding?" 
 
 "I can assure you," he replied, "that you might trade 
 
 1 1 witnessed this same Quarmby s hanging in 1754, and for a 
 burglary, I think, with an extraordinary relish. F. A. 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 85 
 
 your lawful right in the lady for a twopenny whistle and 
 not lose by the bargain." 
 
 "And what about my marriage ?" says the Marchioness 
 "the marriage which was never to be legalized ? twas 
 merely that you might sell me afterward, like so much 
 mutton, was it, you jumping- jack !" 
 
 But I spare you her ensuing gloss upon this text. 
 
 The man heard her through, without a muscle twitch 
 ing. "It is more than probable," he conceded, "that I 
 have merited each and every fate your Ladyship is 
 pleased to invoke. Indeed, I consider the extent of your 
 distresses to be equaled only by that of your vocabulary. 
 Yet by ordinary the heart of woman is not obdurate, and 
 upon one lady here I have some claim " 
 
 Dorothy had drawn away from him, with an odd and 
 frightened cry. "Not upon me, sir! I never saw you 
 except across the footlights. You know I never saw you 
 except across the footlights, Mr. Vanringham!" 
 
 Fixedly he regarded her, with a curious yet not un- 
 pleasing smile. "I am the more unfortunate," he said, at 
 last. "Nay, twas to Lady Allonby I addressed my ap 
 peal." 
 
 The person he named had been whispering with 
 George Erwyn, but now she turned toward the actor. 
 "Heavens!" said Lady Allonby, "to think I should be able 
 to repay you this soon ! La, of course, you are at liberty, 
 Mr. Vanringham, and we may treat the whole series of 
 events as a frolic suited to the day. For I am under 
 obligations to you, and, besides, your punishment would 
 breed a scandal, and, abov^e all, anything is preferable 
 to being talked about in the wrong way." 
 
 Having reasons of my own, I was elated by the upshot 
 
86 GALLANTRY 
 
 of this rather remarkable affair. Yet in justice to my 
 own perspicacity, I must declare that it occurred to me, at 
 this very time, that Mr. Vanringham had proven himself 
 not entirely worthy of unlimited confidence. I reflected, 
 however, that I had my instructions, and that, if a bad 
 king may prove a good husband, a knave may surely 
 carry a letter with fidelity, the more so if it be to his 
 interest to do it. 
 
 VIII 
 
 I rode back to Tunbridge in the coach, with Dorothy 
 at my side and with Gerald recumbent upon the front 
 seat, where after ten minutes driving the boy very 
 philanthropically fell asleep. 
 
 "And you have not," I immediately asserted "after 
 all, you have not given me the answer which was to-night 
 to decide whether I be of all mankind the most fortunate 
 or the most miserable. And tis nearing twelve." 
 
 "What choice have I?" she murmured; "after to-night 
 is it not doubly apparent that you need some one to take 
 care of you? And, besides, this is your eighth proposal, 
 and the ninth I had always rather meant to accept, be 
 cause I have been in love with you for two whole weeks." 
 
 My heart stood still. And shall I confess that for an 
 instant my wits, too, paused to play the gourmet with my 
 emotions ? She sat beside me in the darkness, you under 
 stand, waiting, mine to touch. And everywhere the 
 world was filled with beautiful, kind people, and over 
 head God smiled down upon His world, and a careless 
 seraph had left open the door of Heaven, so that quite a 
 deal of its splendor flooded the world about us. And 
 
THE CASUAL HONEYMOON 87 
 
 the snoring of Gerald was now inaudible because of a 
 stately music which was playing somewhere. 
 
 "Frank !" she breathed. And I noted that her voice 
 was no less tender than her lips. 
 
IV 
 
 THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 
 
 As Played at Tunbridge Wells, April 2, 1750 
 
 "Ye gods, why are not hearts first paired above, 
 But still some interfere in others love, 
 Ere each for each by certain marks are known f 
 You mould them up in haste, and drop them down, 
 And while we seek what carelessly you sort, 
 You sit in state, and make our pains your sport." 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 CAPTAIN AUDAINE, an ingenious, well-accomplished 
 
 gentleman. 
 LORD HUMPHREY DEGGE, an airy young gentleman, loves 
 
 Miss Allonby for her money. 
 VANRINGHAM, emissary and confederate of Audaine. 
 
 Miss ALLONBY, a young lady of wit and fortune. 
 
 ATTENDANTS to Lord Humphrey, Etc. 
 
 ft 
 
 SCENE 
 
 Tunbridge Wells, first in and about Lord Humphrey s 
 lodgings, then shifting to a drawing-room in Lady 
 Allonby s villa. 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 
 PROEM: Merely to Serve as Intermezzo 
 
 NEXT morning Captain Audaine was closeted 
 with Mr. Vanringham in the latter s apartments 
 at the Three Gudgeons. I abridge the Captain s 
 relation of their interview, and merely tell you that it 
 ended in the actor s looking up, with a puzzled face, from 
 a certain document. 
 
 "You might have let me have a whiff of this," Mr. 
 Vanringham began. "You might have breathed, say, a 
 syllable or two last night " 
 
 "I had my instructions, sir, but yesterday," replied the 
 Captain; "and surely, Mr. Vanringham, to have pre 
 sumed last night upon my possession of this paper, so far 
 as to have demanded any favor of you, were unreason 
 able, even had it not savored of cowardice. For, as it has 
 been very finely observed, it is the nicest part of com 
 merce in the world, that of doing and receiving benefits. 
 O Lord, sir! there are so many thousand circumstances, 
 with respect to time, person, and place, which either 
 heighten or allay the value of the obligation " 
 
 "I take your point," said the other, with some haste, 
 "and concede that you are, beyond any reasonable doubt, 
 in the right. Within the hour I am off." 
 
 "Then all is well," said Captain Audaine. 
 
 But he was wrong in this opinion, so wrong that I 
 confute him by subjoining his own account of what be 
 fell, somewhat later in the day. 
 
 91 
 
92 GALLANTRY 
 
 J Twas hard upon ten in the evening (the Captain esti 
 mates) when I left Lady Culcheth s, 1 and I protest that 
 at the time there was not a happier man in all Tunbridge 
 than Francis Audaine. 
 
 "You haven t the king?" Miss Allonby was saying, as 
 I made my adieus to the company. "Then I play queen, 
 knave, and ace, which gives me the game, Lord Hum 
 phrey." 
 
 And afterward she shuffled the cards and flashed across 
 the room a glance whose brilliance shamed the tawdry 
 candles about her, and, as you can readily conceive, 
 roused a prodigious trepidation in my adoring breast. 
 
 "Dorothy! O Dorothy!" I said over and over again 
 when I had reached the street; and so went homeward 
 with constant repetitions of her dear name. 
 
 I suppose it was an idiotic piece of business ; but you 
 are to remember that I loved her with an entire heart, 
 and that, as yet, I could scarcely believe the confession 
 of a reciprocal attachment, which I had wrung from her 
 overnight, to the accompaniment of Gerald s snoring, had 
 been other than an unusually delectable and audacious 
 dream upon the part of Frank Audaine. 
 
 I found it, then, as I went homeward, a heady joy to 
 ponder on her loveliness. Oh, the wonder of her voice, 
 
 1 Sir Henry Muskerry s daughter, of whom I have already 
 spoken, and by common consent an estimable lady and a person 
 of fine wit; but my infatuation for Lady Betty had by this time, 
 after three nights with her, been puffed out; and this fortunate 
 extinction, through the affair of the broken snuffbox, had left me 
 now entirely indifferent to all her raptures, panegyrics, and pre 
 meditated artlessnesses. F. A. 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 93 
 
 that is a love-song! cried my heart. Oh, the candid eyes 
 of her, more beautiful than the June heavens, more blue 
 than the very bluest speedwell-flower ! Oh, the tilt of her 
 tiny chin, and the incredible gold of her hair, and the 
 quite unbelievable pink-and-white of her little flower- 
 soft face! And, oh, the scrap of crimson that is her 
 mouth. 
 
 In a word, my pulses throbbed with a sort of divine 
 insanity, and Frank Audaine was as much out of his 
 senses as any madman now in Bedlam, and as deliciously 
 perturbed as any lover is by ordinary when he meditates 
 upon the object of his affections. 
 
 But there was other work than sonneting afoot that 
 night, and shortly I set about it. Yet such was my 
 felicity that I went to my nocturnal labors singing. Yes, 
 it rang in my ears, somehow, that silly old Scotch song, 
 and under my breath I hummed odd snatches of it as I 
 went about the night s business. 
 
 Sang I : 
 
 "Ken ye the rhyme to porringer? 
 Ken ye the rhyme to porringer? 
 King James the Seventh had ae daughter, 
 And he gave her to an Granger. 
 
 "Ken ye how he requited him? 
 Ken ye how he requited him? 
 The dog has into England come, 
 And ta en the crown in spite of him! 
 
 "The rogue he salna keep it lang, 
 To budge we ll make him fain again; 
 We ll hang him high upon a tree, 
 And King James shall hae his ain again 1" 
 
94 GALLANTRY 
 
 II 
 
 Well! matters went smoothly enough at the start. 
 With a diamond Vanringham dexterously cut out a pane 
 of glass, so that we had little difficulty in opening the 
 window ; and I climbed into a room black as a pocket, 
 leaving him without to act as a sentinel, since, so far as I 
 could detect, the house was now untenanted. 
 
 But some twenty minutes later, when I had finally suc 
 ceeded in forcing the escritoire I found in the back room 
 upon the second story, I heard the street door unclose. 
 And I had my candle extinguished in that self same instant. 
 You can conceive that twas with no pleasurable anticipa 
 tion I peered into the hall, for I was fairly trapped. I 
 saw some five or six men of an ugly aspect, who carried 
 among them a burden, the nature of which I could not 
 determine in the uncertain light. But I heaved a sigh of 
 relief as they bore their cargo past me, to the front room, 
 (which opened on the one I occupied), without apparent 
 recognition of my presence. 
 
 "Now," thinks I, "is the time for my departure." And 
 having already selected the papers I had need of from the 
 rifled desk, I was about to run for it, when I heard a well- 
 known voice. 
 
 "Rat the parson !" it cried ; "he should have been here 
 an hour ago. Here s the door left open for him, en 
 dangering the whole venture, and whey- face han t plucked 
 up heart to come! Do some of you rogues fetch him 
 without delay ; and do all of you meet me to-morrow at 
 the Mitre, to be paid in full for this business, before re 
 porting to his Grace." 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 95 
 
 "Here," thinks I, "is beyond doubt a romance." And 
 as the men rumbled down-stairs and into the street, I re 
 solved to see the adventure through, by the light of those 
 candles which were now burning in the next room. 
 
 I waited for perhaps ten minutes, during which period 
 I was aware of divers movements near at hand; and, 
 judging that in any case there was but one man s anger 
 to be apprehended, I crept toward the intervening door 
 and found it luckily ajar. 
 
 So I peered through the crack into the adjoining room, 
 and there, as I had anticipated, discovered Lord Hum 
 phrey Degge, whom I had last seen at Lady Culcheth s 
 wrangling over a game of ecarte with the fairest antago 
 nist the universe could afford. 
 
 Just now my Lord was in a state of high emotion, and 
 the cause of it was evident when I perceived his ruffians 
 had borne into the house a swooning lady, whom merci 
 ful unconsciousness had rendered oblivious to her present 
 surroundings, and whose wrists his Lordship was vigor 
 ously slapping in the intervals between his frequent appli 
 cations to her nostrils of a flask, which, as I more lately 
 learned, contained sal volatile. 
 
 Here was an unlucky turn, since I had no desire to an 
 nounce my whereabouts, my business in the house being 
 of a sort that necessitated secrecy; whereas, upon the 
 other hand, I could not but misdoubt my Lord s intention 
 toward the unknown fair was of discreditable kinship, 
 and such as a gentleman might not countenance with self- 
 esteem. 
 
 Accordingly I devoted the moments during which the 
 lady was recovering from her swoon, to serious reflection 
 concerning the course that I should preferably adopt. 
 
% GALLANTRY 
 
 But now, Miss came to, and, as is the custom of all fe 
 males similarly situated, rubbed her eyes and said, "Where 
 am I?" 
 
 And when she rose from the divan I saw that twas my 
 adored Dorothy. 
 
 "In the presence of your infatuated slave," says my 
 Lord. "Ah, divine Miss Allonby !" 
 
 But being now aware of her deplorable circumstances, 
 she began to weep, and, in spite of the amorous rhetoric 
 with which his Lordship was prompt to comfort her, re 
 buked him for unmanly conduct, with sublimity and fire, 
 and depicted the horrors of her present predicament in 
 terms that were both just and elegant. 
 
 From their disjointed talk I soon determined that, 
 Lord Humphrey s suit being rejected by my angel, he 
 had laid a trap for her (by bribing her coachman, as I 
 subsequently learned), and had so far succeeded in his 
 nefarious scheme that she, on leaving Lady Culcheth s, 
 had been driven to this house, in the conviction she rode 
 homeward ; and this course my Lord endeavored to jus 
 tify, with a certain eloquence, and attributed the irregu 
 larity of his behavior solely to the colossal vehemence of 
 his affection. 
 
 His oratory, however, was of little avail, for Dorothy 
 told him plainly that she had rather hear the protesta 
 tions of a toad than listen to his far more nauseous flat 
 tery; and bade him at once restore her to her natural 
 guardians. 
 
 "Ma charmante," said he, "to-morrow your good step 
 mother may, if you will, share with your husband the 
 privilege of saluting Lady Humphrey Degge; but as for 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 97 
 
 Miss Allonby, I question if in the future her dearest 
 friends are likely to see much of her." 
 
 "What do you mean ?" cries she. 
 
 "That the parson will be here directly," said he. 
 
 "Infamous !" she observes ; "and is the world run mad, 
 that these extempore weddings should be foisted upon 
 every woman in the Allonby connection !" 
 
 "Ah, but, my dear," he answered airily, " twas those 
 two fiascos which begot my notion, and yet hearten me. 
 For in every approved romance the third adventurer gets 
 the victory; so that I am, I take it, predestinate to win 
 where Vanringham and Rokesle failed." 
 
 She did not chop logic with him, but instead retorted 
 in a more primitive fashion by beginning to scream at the 
 top of her voice. 
 
 I doubt if any man of honor was ever placed under a 
 more great embarrass. Yonder was the object of my 
 devotion, exposed to all the diabolical machinations of a 
 heartless villain; and here was I concealed in my Lord s 
 bedroom, his desk broken open, and his papers in my 
 pocket. To remain quiet was impossible, since twas to 
 expose her to a fate worse than death ; yet to reveal 
 myself was to confess Frank Audaine a thief, and to lose 
 her perhaps beyond redemption. 
 
 Then I thought of the mask which I had brought in 
 case of emergency ; and, clapping it on, resolved to brazen 
 out the affair. Meanwhile I saw all notions of gallantry 
 turned topsy-turvy, for my Lord was laughing quietly, 
 while my adored Dorothy called aloud upon the name of 
 her Maker. 
 
 "The neighborhood is not unaccustomed to such 
 
98 GALLANTRY 
 
 sounds," said he, "and I hardly think we need fear any 
 interruption. I must tell you, my dear creature, you 
 have, by an evil chance, arrived in a most evil locality, 
 for this quarter of the town is the devil s own country, 
 and he is scarcely like to* make you free of it." 
 
 "O Lord, sir !" said I, and pushed the door wide open, 
 "surely you forget that the devil is a gentleman ?" 
 
 Ill 
 
 Had I dropped a hand-grenade into the apartment the 
 astonishment of its occupants would not have been 
 excessive. My Lord s face, as he clapped his hand to 
 his sword, was neither tranquil nor altogether agreeable 
 to contemplate ; but as for Dorothy, she gave a frightened 
 little cry, and ran toward the masked intruder with a 
 piteous confidence which wrung my heart. 
 
 "The devil!" says my Lord. 
 
 "Not precisely," I amended, and bowed in my best 
 manner, "though tis undeniable I come to act as his 
 representative." 
 
 "Oh, joy to your success!" his Lordship sneered. 
 
 "Harkee, sir," said I, "as you, with perfect justice, 
 have stated, this is the devil s stronghold, and hereabouts 
 his will is paramount; and, as I have had the honor to 
 add, the devil is a gentleman. Sure, and as such, he 
 cannot be expected to countenance your present behavior ? 
 Nay, never fear! Lucifer, already up to the ears in the 
 affairs of this mundane sphere, lacks leisure to express 
 his disapproval in sulphuric person. He tenders his 
 apologies, sir, and sends in his stead your servant, with 
 whose capabilities he is indifferently acquainted." 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 99 
 
 "To drop this mummery," says Lord Humphrey, "what 
 are you doing in my lodgings ?" 
 
 "O Lord, sir!" I responded, "I came thither, I con 
 fess, without invitation. And with equal candor I will 
 admit that my present need is of your Lordship s bank 
 notes and jewels, and such-like trifles, rather than you 
 force me, sir, to say it, rather than of your company." 
 
 Thus speaking, I drew and placed myself on guard, 
 while my Lord gasped. 
 
 "You re the most impudent rogue," says he, after he 
 had recovered himself a little, "that I have had the 
 privilege of meeting " 
 
 "Your Lordship is all kindness," I protested. 
 
 " but your impudence is worth the price of whatever 
 you may have pilfered. Go, my good man or devil, if 
 you so prefer to style yourself ! Tell Lucifer that he is 
 well served ; and obligingly return to the infernal regions 
 without delay. For, as you have doubtless learned, Miss 
 and I have many private matters to discuss. And, gad, 
 Mr. Moloch, 1 pleasant as is your conversation, you must 
 acknowledge I can t allow evil spirits about the house 
 without getting it an ill reputation. So pardon me if I 
 exorcise you with this." 
 
 He spoke boldly, and, as he ended, tossed me a purse. 
 I let it lie where it fell, for I had by no means ended my 
 argument. 
 
 "Yet, sir," said I, "my errand, which began with the 
 
 *A deity of, I believe, Ammpnitish origin. His traditional 
 character as represented by our immortal Milton is both taking 
 to the fancy and finely romantic; and is, I am informed, no less 
 remarkable for many happy turns of speech than for conformity 
 throughout to the most famous legends of Talmudic fabrica 
 tion. F. A. 
 
100 GALLANTRY 
 
 acquisition of your pins, studs and other jewelry, now 
 reaches toward treasure far more precious " 
 
 "Enough !" he cried, impatiently. "Begone! and do you 
 render thanks that my present business is so urgent as to 
 prevent my furnishing the rope which will one day adorn 
 your neck." 
 
 "That s as may be," quoth I ; "and, indeed, I doubt if I 
 could abide drowning, for tis a damp, unwholesome, and 
 very permanent sort of death. But my fixed purpose, to 
 cut short all debate, is to escort Miss Allonby homeward." 
 
 "Come," sneers my Lord, "come, Mr. Moloch, I have 
 borne with your insolence for a quarter of an hour " 
 
 "Twenty minutes," said I, after consulting my watch. 
 
 " but I mean to put up with it no longer; and in 
 consequence I take the boorish liberty of suggesting that 
 this is none of your affair." 
 
 "Good sir," I conceded, "your Lordship speaks with 
 considerable justice, and we must leave the final decision 
 to Miss here." 
 
 I bowed toward her. In her face there was a curious 
 bewilderment that made me fear lest, for all my mask, for 
 all my unnatural intonations, and for all the room s half- 
 light, my worshipped mistress had come near to recog 
 nizing this caught thief. 
 
 "Miss Allonby," said I, in a falsetto voice which trem 
 bled, "since I am unknown to you, may I trust you will 
 permit me to present myself? My name though, in 
 deed, I have a multitude of names is for the occasion 
 Frederick Thomasson. With my father s appellation and 
 estates I cannot accommodate you, for the reason that a 
 mystery attaches to his identity. As for my mother, let 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 101 
 
 it suffice to say that she was a vivacious brunette of a 
 large acquaintance, and generally known to the public as 
 Black Moll O Reilly. I began life as a pickpocket. 
 Since then I have so far improved my natural gifts that 
 the police are flattering enough to value my person at 
 several hundred pounds. My rank in society, as you per 
 ceive, is not exalted ; yet, if my luck by any chance should 
 fail, I do not question that I shall, upon some subsequent 
 Friday, move in loftier circles than any nobleman who 
 happens at the time to be on Tyburn Hill. So much for 
 my poor self. And since by this late hour Lady Allonby 
 is beyond doubt beginning to grow uneasy, let us have 
 done with further exposition, and remember that tis high 
 time you selected an escort to her residence. May I im 
 plore that you choose between the son of the Marquis of 
 Venour and Black Molly s bastard ?" 
 
 She looked us over, first one, then the other. More 
 lately she laughed ; and if I had never seen her before, I 
 could have found it in my heart to love her for the sweet 
 insolence of her demeanor. 
 
 "After all," said my adored Dorothy, "I prefer the 
 rogue who when he goes about his knaveries has at least 
 the decency to wear a mask." 
 
 "That, my Lord," said I, "is fairly conclusive; and so 
 we will be journeying." 
 
 "Over my dead body !" says he. 
 
 "Sure, and what s beneath the feet," I protested, "is 
 equally beneath consideration." 
 
 The witticism stung him like a wasp, and, with an oath, 
 he drew, as I was heartily glad to observe, for I cannot 
 help thinking that when it comes to the last pinch, and 
 
102 GALLANTRY 
 
 one gentleman is excessively annoyed by the existence of 
 another, steel is your only arbiter, and charitable allow 
 ances for the dead make the one rational peroration. So 
 we crossed blades ; and, pursuing my usual tactics, I be 
 gan upon a flow of words, which course, as I have learned 
 by old experience, is apt to disconcert an adversary far 
 more than any trick of the sword can do. 
 
 I pressed him sorely, and he continued to give way, 
 but clearly for tactical purposes, and without permitting 
 the bright flash of steel that protected him to swerve an 
 instant from the proper line. 
 
 "Miss Allonby," said I, growing impatient, "have you 
 never seen a venomous insect pinned to the wall? In 
 that case, I pray you to attend more closely. For one 
 has only to parry thus ! And to thrust in this fashion ! 
 And behold, the thing is done !" 
 
 In fact, having been run through the chest, my Lord 
 was for the moment affixed to the panelling at the ex 
 treme end of the apartment, where he writhed, much in 
 the manner of a cockchafer which mischievous urchins 
 have pinned to a card, his mien and his gesticulations, 
 however, being rather more suggestive of the torments of 
 the damned, as they are so strikingly depicted by the 
 Italian Dante. 1 He tumbled in a heap, though, when I 
 sheathed my sword and bowed toward my charmer. 
 
 "Miss Allonby," said I, "thus quickly ends this evil 
 quarter of an hour; and with equal expedition, I think, 
 should we be leaving this evil quarter of the town." 
 
 She had watched the combat with staring and fright- 
 
 I 1 allude, of course, to the famous Florentine, who excels no 
 less in his detailed depictions of infernal anguish than in his elo 
 quent portrayal of the graduated and equitable emoluments of an 
 eternal glorification. F. A. 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 103 
 
 ened eyes. Now she had drawn nearer, and she looked 
 curiously at her over-presumptuous lover where he had 
 fallen. 
 
 "Have you killed him ?" she asked, in a hushed voice. 
 
 "O Lord, no!" I protested. "The life of a peer s son 
 is too valuable a matter ; he will be little the worse for it 
 in a week." 
 
 "The dog!" cries she, overcome with pardonable in 
 dignation at the affront which the misguided nobleman 
 had put upon her; and afterward, with a ferocity the more 
 astounding in an individual whose demeanor was by ordi 
 nary of an aspect so amiable and so engaging, she 
 said, "Oh, the lewd thieving dog !" 
 
 "My adorable Miss Allonby," said I, "do not, I pray 
 you, thus slander the canine species ! Meanwhile, permit 
 me to remind you that tis inexpedient to loiter in these 
 parts, for the parson will presently be at hand ; and if it 
 be to inter rather than to marry Lord Humphrey well, 
 after all, the peerage is a populous estate! But, either 
 way, time presses." 
 
 "Come!" said she, and took my arm; and together we 
 went down-stairs and into the street. 
 
 IV 
 
 On the way homeward she spoke never a word. Van- 
 ringham had made a hasty flitting when my Lord s people 
 arrived, so that we saw nothing of him. But when we 
 had come safely to Lady Allonby s villa, Dorothy began 
 to laugh. 
 
 "Captain Audaine," says she, in a wearied and scorn 
 ful voice, "I know that the hour is very late, yet there are 
 
104 GALLANTRY 
 
 certain matters to be settled between us which will, I 
 think, scarcely admit of delay. I pray you, then, grant 
 me ten minutes conversation." 
 
 She had known me all along, you see. Trust the 
 dullest woman to play CEdipus when love sets the riddle. 
 So there was nothing to do save clap my mask into my 
 pocket and follow her, sheepishly enough, toward one of 
 the salons, where at Dorothy s solicitation a gaping foot 
 man made a light for us. 
 
 She left me there to kick my heels through a solitude 
 of some moments extent. But in a while my dear mis 
 tress came into the room, with her arms full of trinkets 
 and knick-knacks, which she flung upon a table. 
 
 "Here s your ring, Captain Audaine," says she, and 
 drew it from her finger. "I did not wear it long, did I? 
 And here s the miniature you gave me, too. I used to 
 kiss it every night, you know. And here s a flower you 
 dropped at Lady Pevensey s. I picked it up oh, very 
 secretly! because you had worn it, you understand. 
 And here s" 
 
 But at this point she fairly broke down; and she cast 
 her round white arms about the heap of trinkets, and 
 strained them close to her, and bowed her imperious 
 golden head above them in anguish. 
 
 "Oh, how I loved you how I loved you !" she sobbed. 
 "And all the while you were only a common thief !" 
 
 "Dorothy !" I pleaded. 
 
 "You shame me you shame me past utterance!" she 
 cried, in a storm of mingled tears and laughter. "Here s 
 this bold Captain Audaine, who comes to Tunbridge from 
 nobody knows where, and wins a maid s love, and proves 
 in the end a beggarly house-breaker ! Mr. Garrick might 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 105 
 
 make a mirthful comedy of this, might he not?" Then 
 
 she rose to her feet very stiffly. "Take your gifts, Mr. 
 
 Thief," says she, pointing, "take them. And for God s 
 
 sake let me not see you again !" 
 
 So I was forced to make a clean breast of it. 
 "Dorothy," said I, "ken ye the rhyme to porringer?" 
 But she only stared at me through unshed tears. 
 
 Presently, though, I hummed over the old song : 
 
 "Ken ye the rhyme to porringer? 
 Ken ye the rhyme to porringer? 
 King James the Seventh had ae daughter, 
 And he gave her to an Granger. 
 
 "And the Granger filched his crown," said I, "and 
 drove King James God bless him ! out of his kingdom. 
 This was a while and a half ago, my dear; but Dutch 
 William left the stolen crown to Anne, and Anne, in turn, 
 left it to German George. So that now the Elector of 
 Hanover reigns at St. James s, while the true King s 
 son must skulk in France, with never a roof to shelter 
 him.. And there are certain gentlemen, Dorothy, who do 
 not consider that this is right." 
 
 "You are a Jacobite ?" said she. "Well ! and what have 
 your politics to do with the matter ?" 
 
 "Simply that Lord Humphrey is not of my way of 
 thinking, my dearest dear. Lord Humphrey pah! this 
 Degge is Ormskirk s spy, I tell you ! He followed Van- 
 ringham to Tunbridge on account of our business. And 
 to-day, when Vanringham set out for Avignon, he was 
 stopped a mile from the Wells by some six of Lord Hum 
 phrey s fellows, disguised as highwaymen, and all his 
 papers were stolen. Oho, but Lord Humphrey is a 
 
106 GALLANTRY 
 
 thrifty fellow : so when Ormskirk puts six bandits at his 
 disposal he employs them in double infamy, to steal you 
 as well as Vanringham s despatches. To-morrow they 
 would have been in Ormskirk s hands. And then-" I 
 paused to allow myself a whistle. 
 
 She came a little toward me, in the prettiest possible 
 glow of bewilderment. "I do> not understand," she mur 
 mured. "Oh, Frank, Frank, for the love of God, beware 
 of trusting Vanringham in anything ! And you are not a 
 thief, after all ? Are you really not named Thomasson?" 
 
 "I am most assuredly not Frederick Thomasson," said 
 I, "nor do I know if any such person exists, for I never 
 heard the name before to-night. Yet, in spite of this, I 
 am an unmitigated thief. Why, d ye not understand? 
 What Vanringham carried was a petition from some two 
 hundred Scotch and English gentlemen that our gracious 
 Prince Charlie be pleased to come over and take back his 
 own from the Elector. Twas rebellion, flat rebellion, 
 and the very highest treason! Had Ormskirk seen the 
 paper, within a month our heads had all been blackening 
 over Temple Bar. So I stole it, I, Francis Audaine, 
 stole it in the King s cause, God bless him! Twas 
 burglary, no less, but it saved two hundred lives, my own 
 included ; and I look to be a deal older than I am before 
 I regret the deed with any sincerity." 
 
 Afterward I showed her the papers, and then burned 
 them one by one over a candle. She said nothing. So 
 by and by I turned toward her with a little bow. 
 
 "Madam," said I, "you have forced my secret from 
 me. I know that your family is staunch on the Whig 
 side; and yet, ere the thief goes, may he not trust you 
 will ne er betray him ?" 
 
THE RHYME TO PORRINGER 107 
 
 And now she came to me, all penitence and dimples. 
 
 "But it was you who said you were a thief," my dear 
 mistress pointed out. 
 
 "O Lord, madam !" said I, " twas very necessary that 
 Degge should think me so. A house-breaker they would 
 have only hanged, but a Jacobite they would have hanged 
 and quartered afterward." 
 
 "Ah, Frank, do not speak of such fearful matters, but 
 forgive me instantly !" she wailed. 
 
 And I was about to do so in what I considered the most 
 agreeable and appropriate manner when the madcap 
 broke away from me, and sprang upon a footstool and 
 waved her fan defiantly. 
 
 "Down with the Elector !" she cried, in her high, sweet 
 voice. "Long live King James !" 
 
 And then, with a most lovely wildness of mien, she be 
 gan to sing: 
 
 "Ken ye the rhyme to porringer? 
 Ken ye the rhyme to porringer? 
 King James the Seventh had ae daughter " 
 
 until I interrupted her. For, "Extraordinary creature!" 
 I pleaded, "you will rouse the house." 
 
 "I don t care! I intend to be a Jacobite if you are 
 one!" 
 
 "Eh, well," said I, "Frank Audaine is not the man to 
 coerce his wife in a political matter. Nevertheless, I 
 know of a certain Jacobite who is not unlikely to have a 
 bad time of it if by any chance Lord Humphrey recog 
 nized him to-night. Nay, Miss, you may live to be a 
 widow yet." 
 
 "But he didn t recognize you. And if he did" she 
 
108 GALLANTRY 
 
 snapped her fingers, "why, we ll fight him again, you 
 and I. Won t we, my dear? For he stole our secret, 
 you know. And he stole me, too. Very pretty behavior, 
 wasn t it?" And here Miss Allonby stamped the tiniest, 
 the most infinitesimal of red-heeled slippers. 
 
 "The rogue he didna keep me lang, 
 To budge we made him fain again 
 
 "that s you, Frank, and your great, long sword. And 
 now: 
 
 "Weli hang him high upon a tree, 
 And King Frank shall hae his ain again !" 
 
 Afterward my adored Dorothy jumped from the foot 
 stool, and came toward me, lifting up the crimson trifle 
 that she calls her mouth. "So take your own, my king," 
 she breathed, with a wonderful gesture of surrender. 
 
 And a gentleman could do no less. 
 
ACTORS ALL 
 As Played at Twnbridge Wells, April 3, l?5O 
 
 "I am ttunking if some little, filching, inquisitive poet 
 should get my story, and represent it to the stage, what 
 those ladies who are never precise but at a play would say 
 of me now, that I were a confident, coming piece, I 
 warrant, and they would damn the poor poet for libelling 
 the sex! 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 DUKE OF ORMSKIRK. 
 
 COLONEL DENSTROUDE, 1 
 
 SIR GRESLEY CARNE, I Gentlemen of the town. 
 
 MR. BABINGTON-HERLE, j 
 
 VANRINGHAM, a play-actor and a Jacobite emissary. 
 
 MR. LANGTON, secretary to Ormskirk. 
 
 Miss ALLONBY, an heiress, loves Captain Audaine. 
 LOTTRUM, maid to Miss Allonby. 
 
 BENYON, MINCHIN, and OTHER SERVANTS to Ormskirk. 
 
 SCENE 
 
 Tunbridge Wells, shifting from Ormskirk s lodgings at 
 the Mitre to Vanringham s apartments in the Three 
 Gudgeons. 
 
ACTORS ALL 
 
 PROEM >-To Explain Why the Heroine of This Comedy Must 
 Wear Her Best 
 
 I QUIT pilfering from the writings of Francis Au- 
 daine, since in the happenings which now concern 
 us he plays but a subsidiary part. The Captain 
 had an utter faith in decorum, and therefore it was, as he 
 records, an earth-staggering shock when the following 
 day, on the Pantiles, in full sight of the best company at 
 the Wells, Captain Audaine was apprehended. He met 
 disaster like an old acquaintance, and hummed a scrap of 
 song "O, gin I were a bonny bird" and shrugged ; but 
 when Miss Allonby, with whom he had been chatting, 
 swayed and fell, the Captain caught her in his arms, and 
 standing thus, turned angrily upon the emissaries of the 
 law. 
 
 "Look you, you rascals/ said he, "you have spoiled 
 a lady s afternoon with your foolish warrant !" 
 
 He then relinquished the unconscious girl to her 
 brother s keeping, tenderly kissed one insensate hand, and 
 afterward strolled off to jail en route for a perfunctory 
 trial and a subsequent traffic with the executioner that 
 Audaine did not care to think of. 
 
 Tunbridge buzzed like a fly-trap with the ensuing 
 rumors. The Captain was at the head of a most heinous 
 Jacobitical uprising. The great Duke of Ormskirk was 
 come hastily from London on the business. Highlanders 
 were swarming over the Border, ten thousand French 
 
 111 
 
112 GALLANTRY 
 
 troops had landed at Pevensey, commanded by the 
 Chevalier St. George in person, and twenty thousand 
 friars and pilgrims from Coruna had sailed for Milford 
 Haven, under the admiralty of young Henry Stuart. The 
 King was locked in the Tower; the King had been as 
 sassinated that morning by a Spanish monk, with horse- 
 pistols and a cast in his left eye; and the King and the 
 Countess of Yarmouth had escaped three days ago, in 
 disguise, and were now on their way to Hanover. 
 
 These were the reports which went about Tunbridge, 
 while Dorothy Allonby wept a little and presently called 
 for cold water and a powder-puff, and afterward for a 
 sedan chair. 
 
 Miss Allonby found my Lord Duke of Ormskirk deep 
 in an infinity of papers. But at her entrance he rose and 
 with a sign dismissed his secretary. 
 
 It appears appropriate here to afford you some notion 
 of Ormskirk s exterior. I pilfer from Lowe s memoir of 
 him, where Horace Calverley, who first saw Ormskirk at 
 about this time, is quoted : 
 
 "His Grace was in blue-and-silver, which became him, 
 though he is somewhat stomachy for such conspicuous 
 colors. A handsome man, I would have said, honest but 
 not particularly intelligent. . . . Walpole, in a fit of 
 spleen, once called him *a porcelain sphinx/ and the 
 phrase sticks; but, indeed, there is more of the china- 
 doll about him. He possesses the same too-perfect com 
 plexion, his blue eyes have the same spick-and-span 
 vacuity ; and the fact that the right orb is a trifle larger 
 
ACTORS ALL 113 
 
 than its fellow gives his countenance, in repose, much the 
 same expression of placid astonishment. . . . Very 
 plump, very sleepy-looking, immaculate as a cat, you 
 would never have accorded him a second glance : covert 
 whisperings that the stout gentleman yonder is the great 
 Duke of Ormskirk have, I think, taxed human belief 
 more than once during these ten years past." 
 
 They said of Ormskirk that he manifested a certain 
 excitement on the day after Culloden, when he had sev 
 enty-two prisoners shot en masse? but this was doubted ; 
 and in any event, such battues being comparatively rare, 
 he by ordinary appeared to regard the universe with a 
 composed and feline indifference. 
 
 II 
 
 "Child, child!" Ormskirk began, and made a tiny ges 
 ture of deprecation, "I perceive you are about to appeal 
 to my better nature, and so I warn you in advance that 
 the idiotic business has worked me into a temper ab 
 solutely ogreish." 
 
 "The Jacobite conspiracy, you mean?" said Miss Al- 
 lonby. "Oh, I suppose so. I am not particularly inter 
 ested in such matters, though; I came, you understand, 
 for a warrant, or an order, or whatever you call it, for 
 them to let Frank out of that horrid filthy gaol." 
 
 The Duke s face was gravely humorous as he gazed at 
 
 1 But for all that, when, near Rossinish (see Lowe), he cap 
 tured Flora Macdonald and her ostensibly female companion, 
 Ormskirk flatly declined to recognize Prince Charles. "They may 
 well call you the Pretender, madam," he observed to "Bettie 
 Burke," "since as concerns my party you are the most desirable 
 Pretender we could possibly imagine." And thereupon he gave 
 the Prince a pass out of Scotland. 
 
114 GALLANTRY 
 
 her for a moment or two in silence. "You know quite 
 well," he said at last, "that I can give you nothing of the 
 sort." 
 
 Miss Allonby said: "Upon my word, I never heard 
 of such nonsense! How else is he to take me to Lady 
 Mackworth s ball to-night?" 
 
 "It is deplorable," his Grace of Ortnskirk conceded, 
 "that Captain Audaine should be thus snatched from 
 circles which he, no doubt, adorns. Still, I fear you 
 must look for another escort; and frankly, child, if you 
 will be advised by me, you will permit us to follow out 
 our present intentions and take off his head not reat 
 
 - 
 
 deprivation when you consider he has so plainly gnon 
 strated its contents to be of such inferior quality.^ 
 
 She had drawn close to him, with widening, iable 
 eyes. "You mean, then," she demanded, "that ank s 
 very life is in danger?" t>o 
 
 "This is unfair," the Duke complained. "You are 
 about to go into hysterics forthwith and thus bully me 
 into letting the man ^Tcape. You are a minx. You pre 
 sume upon the fact that in the autumn I am to wed your 
 kinswoman and bosom companion, and that my affection 
 for her is widely known to go well past the frontier of 
 common-sense; and also upon the fact that Marian will 
 give me the devil if I don t do exactly as you ask. I 
 consider you to abuse your power unconscionably. I con 
 sider you to be a second Delilah. However, since you 
 insist upon it, this Captain Audaine must, of course, be 
 spared the fate he very richly merits." j/f- 
 
 Miss Allonby had seated herself beside a table and 
 was pensively looking up at him. "Naturally," she said, 
 "Marian and I, between us, will badger you int6 saving 
 
ACTORS ALL 115 
 
 Frank. I shall not worry, therefore, and I must trust to 
 Providence, I suppose, to arrange matters so that the 
 poor boy will not catch his death of cold in your leaky 
 gaol yonder. And now I would like to be informed of 
 what he has been most unjustly accused." 
 
 "His crime," the Duke retorted, "is the not unusual 
 one of being a fool. Oh, I am candid! All Jacobites 
 are fools. We gave the Stuarts a fair trial, Heaven 
 knows, and nobody but a fool would want them back." 
 
 "I am not here to discuss politics," a dignified Miss 
 Allonby stated, "but simply to find out in what way 
 Frank has been slandered." 
 
 Ormskirk lifted one eyebrow. "It is not altogether a 
 matter of politics. Rather, as I see it, it is a matter of 
 Under the Stuarts England was a pros- 
 the nations, lackey in turn to Spain and 
 Fran - nd Italy; under the Guelph the Three-per-cents, 
 are to-ftay at par. The question as to which is prefer 
 able thus resolves itself into a choice between common- 
 sense and bedlamite folly. But, unhappily, you cannot 
 argue with a Jacobite: only four years ago Cumberland 
 and Hawley and I rode from Aberdeen to the Highlands 
 and left all the intervening country bare as the palm of 
 your hand; I forget how many Jacobites we killed, but 
 evidently not enough to convince the others. Very well : 
 we intend to have no more such nonsense, and we must 
 settle this particular affair by the simple device of hang 
 ing or beheading every man- Jack concerned in it." He 
 spoke without vehemence rather regretfully than other 
 wise. 
 
 Miss^Allonby was patient, yet resolute to keep to the 
 one really important point. "But what has Frank been 
 
116 GALLANTRY 
 
 accused of doing when it never even entered his head?" 
 
 "He has been conspiring," said the Duke, "and with 
 conspicuous clumsiness. It appears, child, that it was 
 their common idiocy which of late brought together some 
 two hundred jpentlemen in Lancashire. Being every one 
 of them mosfTunmitigated fools, they desired that sot at 
 Avignon to come over once more and take back his own/ 
 as the saying is. He would not stir without definite 
 assurances. So these men drew up a petition pledging 
 their all to the Chevalier s cause and God help us! 
 signed it. I protest," the Duke sighed, "I cannot under 
 stand these people! A couple of penstrokes, you ob 
 serve, and there is your life at the mercy of chance, at 
 the disposal of a puff of wind or the first blunderer who 
 stumbles on the paper." 
 
 "Doubtless that is entirely true," said Miss Allonby, 
 "but what about Frank?" 
 
 Ormskirk shrugged his shoulders and began to laugh. 
 "You are an incomparable actress, you rogue you. But 
 let us be candid, for all that, since as it happens Lord 
 Humphrey is not the only person in my employ. What 
 occurred last night I now partly know, and in part guess. 
 Degge played a bold game, and your Captain gambled 
 even more impudently, only the stakes, as it to-day 
 transpires, were of somewhat less importance than either 
 of them surmised. For years Mr. Vanringham has been 
 a Jacobite emissary ; now he tires of it ; and so he devoted 
 the entire morning yesterday to making a copy of this 
 absurd petition." 
 
 "I do not understand," said Miss Allonby; and in ap 
 pearance, at least, she was no whit disconcerted. 
 
ACTORS ALL 117 
 
 "He carried only the copy. You burned only the copy. 
 Mr. Vanringham, it develops, knew well enough what 
 that bungling Degge had been deputed to do, and he pre 
 ferred to treat directly with Lord Humphrey s principal. 
 Mr. Vanringham is an intelligent fellow. I dare make 
 this assertion, because I am fresh from an interview with 
 Mr. Vanringham," his Grace of Ormskirk ended, and 
 allowed himself a reminiscent chuckle. 
 
 She had risen. "O ungenerous! this Vanringham has 
 been bribed!" 
 
 "I pray you," said the Duke, "give vent to no such 
 scandal. Vanringham s life would not be worth a farth 
 ing if he had done such a thing, and he knows it. Nay, 
 I have planned it more neatly. To-night Mr. Vanring 
 ham will be arrested merely on suspicion, mind you, 
 and all his papers will be brought to me; and it is pos 
 sible that among them we may find the petition. And 
 it is possible that, somehow, when he is tried with the 
 others, Mr. Vanringham alone may be acquitted. And 
 it is possible that an aunt in Wales, say, may die about 
 this time and leave him a legacy of some five thousand 
 pounds. Oh, yes, all this is quite possible," said the 
 Duke; "but should we therefore shriek Bribery? For 
 my own part, I esteem Mr. Vanringham, as the one sen 
 sible man in the two hundred." 
 
 "He has turned King s evidence," she said, "and his 
 papers will be brought to you " Miss Allonby paused. 
 "All his papers!" said Miss Allonby. 
 
 "And very curious they will prove, no doubt," said his 
 Grace. "So many love-sick misses write to actors. I 
 can assure you, child, I look forward with a deal of in- 
 
118 GALLANTRY 
 
 terest to my inspection of Mr. Vanringham s correspon 
 dence." 
 
 "Eh? Oh, yes!" Miss Allonby assented "all his pa 
 pers! Yes, they should be diverting. I must be going 
 home though, to make ready for Lady Mackworth s ball. 
 And if I have nobody to dance with me, I shall know 
 quite well whose fault it is. How soon will Frank be 
 freed, you odious tyrant?" 
 
 "My child, but in these matters we are all slaves to 
 red tape! I can promise you, however, that your Cap 
 tain will be released from prison before this month is 
 out, so you are not to worry." 
 
 Ill 
 
 When she had left him the Duke sat for a while in 
 meditation. 
 
 "That is an admirable girl. I would I could oblige 
 her in the matter and let this Audaine live. But such 
 folly is out of the question. The man is the heart of 
 the conspiracy. 
 
 "No, Captain Audaine, I am afraid we must have that 
 handsome head of yours, and set your spirit free before 
 this month is out. And your head also, Mr. Vanring- 
 ham, when we are done with using your evidence. This 
 affair must be the last; hitherto we have tried leniency, 
 and it has failed; now we will try extermination. Not 
 one of these men must escape. 
 
 "I shall have trouble with Marian, since the two girls 
 are inseparable. Yes, this Audaine will cause me some 
 trouble with Marian. I heartily wish the fellow had 
 never been born." 
 
ACTORS ALL 119 
 
 Ormskirk took a miniature from his pocket and sat 
 thus in the dusk regarding it. It was the portrait of a 
 young girl with hazel eyes and abundant hair the color 
 of a dead oak-leaf. And now his sleepy face was curi 
 ously moved. 
 
 "I shall have to He to you. And you will believe me, 
 for you are not disastrously clever. But I wish it were 
 not necessary, my dear. I wish it were possible to make 
 you understand that my concern is to save England rather 
 than a twopenny captain. As it is, I shall lie to you, 
 and you will believe. And Dorothy will get over it in 
 time, as one gets over everything in time. But I wish it 
 were not necessary, sweetheart. 
 
 "I Wibh. ... I wish that I were not so happy when I 
 think of you. I become so happy that I grow afraid. 
 It is not right that anyone should be so happy. 
 
 "Bah ! I am probably falling into my dotage." 
 
 Ormskirk struck upon the gong. "And now, Mr. 
 Langton, let us get back to business/ 
 
 IV 
 
 Later in the afternoon Miss Allonby demanded of her 
 maid if Gerald Allonby were within, and received a neg 
 ative response. "Nothing could be better," said Miss 
 Allonby. "You know that new suit of Master Gerald s, 
 Lottrum the pink-and-silver ? Very well ; then you will 
 do thus, and thus, and thus " And she poured forth 
 a series of directions that astonished her maid not a 
 little. 
 
 "Law you now!" said Lottrum, "whatever ?" 
 
 "If you ask me any questions," said Dorothy, "I will 
 
 
120 GALLANTRY 
 
 discharge you on the spot. And if you betray me, I 
 shall probably kill you." 
 
 Lottrum said, "O Gemini !" and did as her mistress 
 ordered. 
 
 Miss Allonby made a handsome boy, and such was her 
 one comfort. Her mirror showed an epicene denizen of 
 romance, Rosalind or Bellario, a frail and lovely trav 
 esty of boyhood; but it is likely that the girl s heart 
 showed stark terror. Here was imminent no jaunt into 
 Arden, but into the gross jaws of even bodily destruc 
 tion. Here was probable dishonor, a guaranteeable death. 
 She could fence well enough, thanks to many bouts with 
 Gerald; but when the foils were unbuttoned, there was 
 a difference which the girl could appreciate. 
 
 "In consequence," said Dorothy, "I had better hurry 
 before I am still more afraid." 
 
 V 
 
 So there came that evening, after dusk, to Mr. Francis 
 Vanringham s apartments, at the Three Gudgeons, a 
 young spark in pink-and-silver. He appeared startled at 
 the sight of so much company, recovered his composure 
 with a gulp, and presented himself to the assembled gen 
 tlemen as Mr. Osric Allonby, unexpectedly summoned 
 from Cambridge, and in search of his brother, Squire 
 Gerald. At his step-mother s villa they had imagined 
 Gerald might be spending the evening with Mr. Vanring- 
 ham. Mr. Osric Allonby apologized for the intrusion ; 
 was their humble servant ; and with a profusion of 
 congees made as though to withdraw. 
 
 Mr. Vanringham lounged forward. The comedian 
 
ACTORS ALL 121 
 
 had a vogue among the younger men, since at all 
 games of chance they found him untiring and tolerably 
 honest; and his apartments were, in effect, a gambling 
 parlor. 
 
 Vanringham now took the boy s hand very genially. 
 "You have somewhat the look of your sister," he ob 
 served, after a prolonged appraisal; "though, in nature, 
 tis not expected of us trousered folk to be so beautiful. 
 And by your leave, you ll not quit us thus unceremoni 
 ously, Master Osric. I am by way of being a friend of 
 your brother s, and tis more than possible that he may 
 during the evening honor us with his presence. Will you 
 not linger awhile on the off-chance ?" And Osric Allonby 
 admitted he had no other engagements. 
 
 He was in due form made known to the three gentle 
 men Colonel Denstroude, 1 Mr. Babington-Herle, and 
 Sir Gresley Carne who sat over a bowl of punch. Sir 
 Gresley was then permitted to conclude the narrative 
 which Mr. Allonby s entrance had interrupted : the even 
 ing previous, being a little tipsy, Sir Gresley had strolled 
 about Tunbrklge in search of recreation and, with per 
 haps excessive playfulness, had slapped a passer-by, 
 broken the fellow s nose, and gouged both thumbs into 
 the rascal s eyes. The young baronet conceded the intro 
 duction of these London pastimes into the rural quiet of 
 Tunbridge to have been an error in taste, especially as 
 the man proved upon inquiry to be a respectable haber 
 dasher and the sole dependence of four children; and 
 having thus unfortunately blinded the little tradesman, 
 
 1 He and Vanringham had just been reconciled by Molly Yates 
 elopement with Tom Stoach, the Colonel s footman. Garendon 
 has a curious anecdote concerning this lady, apropos of his no 
 torious duel with Denstroude, in 61. 
 
122 GALLANTRY 
 
 Sir Gresley wished to ask of the assembled company what 
 in their opinion was a reasonable reparation. "For I 
 sincerely regret the entire affair," Sir Gresley concluded, 
 "and am desirous to follow a course approvable by all 
 men of honor." 
 
 "Heyho!" said Mr. Vanringham, "I m afraid the rape 
 of both eyes was a trifle extreme; for by ordinary a 
 haberdasher is neither a potato nor an Argus, and, re 
 membering that, even the high frivolity of brandy-and- 
 water should have respected his limitations." 
 
 The hands of Mr. Allonby had screened his face dur 
 ing the recital. "Oh, the poor man!" he said. "I can 
 not bear " And then, with swift alteration, he tossed 
 back his head, and laughed. "Are we gentlemen to be 
 denied all amusement? Sir Gresley acted quite within 
 his privilege, and in terming him severe you have lied, 
 Mr. Vanringham. I repeat, sir, you have lied !" 
 
 Vanringham was on his feet within the instant, but 
 Colonel Denstroude, who sat beside him, laid a heavy 
 hand upon Vanringham s arm. " Oons, man," says the 
 Colonel, "infanticide is a crime." 
 
 The actor shrugged his shoulders. "Doubtless you are 
 in the right, Mr. Allonby," he said ; "though, as you were 
 of course going on to remark, you express yourself some 
 what obscurely. Your meaning, I take it, is that I 
 mayn t criticise the doings of my guests? I stand cor 
 rected, and concede Sir Gresley acted with commendable 
 moderation, and that Cambridge is, beyond question, the 
 paramount expositor of morals and manners." 
 
 The lad stared about him with a bewildered face. 
 "La, will he not fight me now?" he demanded of Colonel 
 Denstroude, "now, after I have called him a liar?" 
 
ACTORS ALL 123 
 
 "My dear," the Colonel retorted, "he may possibly de 
 prive you of your nursing-bottle, or he may even birch 
 you, but he will most assuredly not fight you, so long as 
 I have any say in the affair. I* cod, we are all friends 
 here, I hope. D ye think Mr. Vanringham has so often 
 enacted Richard III. that to strangle infants is habitual 
 with him? Fight you, indeed! Sdeath and devils!" 
 roared the Colonel, "I will cut the throat of any man 
 who dares to speak of fighting in this amicable company ! 
 Gi me some more punch," said the Colonel. 
 
 And thereupon in silence Mr. Allonby resumed his 
 seat. 
 
 Now, to relieve the somewhat awkward tension, Mr. 
 Vanringham cried: "So being neighborly again, let us 
 think no more of the recent difference in opinion. Pay 
 your damned haberdasher what you like, Gresley; or, 
 rather, let Osric here fix the remuneration. I confess to 
 all and sundry," he added, with a smile, "that I daren t 
 say another word in the matter. Frankly, I m afraid of 
 this youngster. He breathes fire like ytna." 
 
 "He is a lad of spirit," said Mr. Babington-Herle, with 
 an extreme sobriety. "He s a lad eshtrornary spirit. 
 Let s have game hazard." 
 
 "Agreed, good sir," said Vanringham, "and I warn 
 you, you will find me a daring antagonist. I had to-day 
 an extraordinary the usual prejudice, my dear Herle, 
 is, I believe, somewhat inclined to that pronunciation of 
 the word, the most extraordinary windfall. I am rich, 
 and I protest King Croesus himself sha n t intimidate me 
 to-night. Come!" he cried, and he drew from his pocket 
 a plump purse and emptied its contents upon the table; 
 "come, lay your wager!" 
 
124 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Hell and furies," the Colonel groaned, "there s that 
 tomfool boy again ! Gi me some more punch." 
 
 For Osric Allonby had risen to his feet and had swept 
 the littered gold and notes toward him. He stood thus, 
 his pink-tipped fingers caressing the money, while his 
 eyes fixed those of Mr. Vanringham. "And the chief 
 priests," observed Osric Allonby, "took the silver pieces 
 and said, It is not lawful for to put them into the 
 treasury, because it is the price of blood. Are they, then, 
 fit to be touched by gentlemen, Mr. ah, but I forget your 
 given name?" 
 
 Vanringham, too, had risen, his face changed. "My 
 sponsors in baptism were pleased to christen me Francis." 
 
 "I entreat your pardon," the boy drawled, "but I have 
 the oddest fancies. I had thought it was Judas." And 
 so they stood, warily regarding each the other, very much 
 as strange dogs are wont to do at meeting. 
 
 "Boy is drunk," Mr. Babington-Herle explained at 
 large, "and presents to pitying eye of disinterested spec 
 tator most deplorable results incidental to combination 
 of immaturity and brandy. As to money, now, in Sueto 
 nius " And he launched upon a hiccough-punctuated 
 anecdote of Vespasian, which to record here is not con 
 venient. "And moral of it is," Mr. Babington-Herle 
 perorated, "that all money is always fine thing to have. 
 Non olet! Classical scholar, by Jove! Now let s have 
 game hazard." 
 
 Meanwhile those two had stood like statues. Vanring 
 ham seemed half-frightened, half persuaded that this un 
 accountable boy spoke at random. Talk, either way, the 
 actor knew, was dangerous. . . . 
 
 "I ask your forgiveness, gentlemen," said Francis Van- 
 
ACTORS ALL 125 
 
 ringham, "but I m suddenly ill. If you ll permit me to 
 retire" 
 
 "Not at all," said Mr. Babington-Herle; "late in eve 
 ning, as it is. We will go, Colonel and old Carne and 
 I will go kill watchman. Persevorate him, by Jove, 
 like sieve." 
 
 "I thank you," said Mr. Vanringham, withdrawing up 
 the stairway toward his bedroom. "I thank you. Mr. 
 Allonby," he called, in a firmer tone, "you and I have 
 had some words together and you were the aggressor. 
 Oho, I think we may pass it over. I think " 
 
 Below, the four gentlemen were unhooking their 
 swords from the wall. Mr. Allonby now smiled with 
 cherubic sweetness. "I, too," said he, "think that all our 
 differences might be arranged by ten minutes private 
 talk." He came back, came up the stairs. "You had left 
 your sword," he said to Mr. Vanringham, "but I fetched 
 it, you see." 
 
 Vanringham stared, his lips working oddly. "I am no 
 Siegfried," said he, "and ordinarily my bedfellow is not 
 cold and deplorable defect in such capacity! somewhat 
 unsympathetic steel." 
 
 "But you forget," the boy urged, "that the room is 
 public. And see, the hilt is set with jewels. Ah, Mr. 
 Vanringham, let us beware how we lead others into temp 
 tation " The door closed behind them. 
 
 VI 
 
 Said Mr. Babington-Herle, judicially, "That s eshtror- 
 nary boy most eshtrornary boy, and precisely unlike 
 brother." 
 
126 GALLANTRY 
 
 "You must remember/* the Colonel pointed out, "that 
 since his marriage Gerald is a reformed man; he has 
 quite given up punks and hazard, they say, for beer and 
 cattle-raising." 
 
 "Well, but it is a sad thing to have a spirited tall rogue 
 turn pimp to bulls and rams, and Mrs. Lascelles will be 
 inconsolable," Sir Gresley considered. "Hey, what s 
 that ? Did you not hear a noise up-stairs ?" 
 
 "I do not think," said the Colonel, "that Mallison finds 
 her so. Yes, i cod ! I suppose that tipsy boy has turned 
 over a table." 
 
 "But you astound me," Sir Gresley interrupted. "The 
 constant Mallison, of all persons !" 
 
 "Nevertheless, my dear, they assure me that he has 
 made over to her the heart and lodgings until lately oc 
 cupied by Mrs. Roydon Oh, the devil!" cried Colonel 
 Denstroude, "they are fighting above !" 
 
 "Good for Frank!" observed Mr. Babington-Herle. 
 "Hip-hip! Stick young rascal! Persevorate him, by 
 Jove!" 
 
 But the other men had run hastily up the stairway and 
 were battering at the door of Vanringham s chamber. 
 "Locked !" said the Colonel. "Oh, the unutterable cur ! 
 Open, open, I tell you, Vanringham! By God, I ll have 
 your blood for this if you have hurt the boy !" 
 
 "Break in the door!" said a voice from below. The 
 Colonel paused in his objurgations, and found that the 
 Duke of Ormskirk, followed by four attendants, had 
 entered the hallway of the Three Gudgeons. "Benyon," 
 said the Duke, more sharply, and wheeled upon his men, 
 "you have had my orders, I believe. Break in yonder 
 door!" 
 
ACTORS ALL 127 
 
 This was done. They found Mr. Francis Vanringham 
 upon the hearthrug a tousled heap of flesh and finery, in 
 sensible, with his mouth gaping, in a great puddle of 
 blood. To the rear of the room, was a boy in pink-and- 
 silver, beside the writing-desk he had just got into with 
 the era-operation of a poker. Hugged to his breast he 
 held a brown despatch-box. 
 
 Ormskirk strode toward the boy and with an inhala 
 tion paused. The Duke stood tense for a moment. 
 Then silently he knelt beside the prostrate actor and in 
 spected Vanringham s injury. "You have killed him," 
 the Duke said at last. 
 
 "I think so," said the boy. "But twas in fair fight." 
 
 The Duke rose. "Benyon," he rapped out, "do you 
 and Minchin take this body to the room below. Let a 
 surgeon be sent for. Bring word if he find any sign of 
 life. Gentlemen, I must ask you to avoid the chamber. 
 This is a state matter. I am responsible for yonder per 
 son." 
 
 "Then your Grace is responsible for perfectly irre 
 sponsible young villain!" said Mr. Babington-Herle. 
 "He s murderer Frank Vanringham, of poor dear Frank, 
 like a brother to me, by Jove ! Hang him high s Haman, 
 your Grace, and then we ll have another bottle." 
 
 "Colonel Denstroude," said the Duke, "I will ask you 
 to assist your friend in retiring. The stairs are steep, 
 and his conviviality, I fear, has by a pint or so exceeded 
 his capacity. And in fine I wish you a good-evening, 
 gentlemen." 
 
128 GALLANTRY 
 
 VII 
 
 Ormskirk closed the door; then he turned. "I lack 
 words," the Duke said. "Oh, believe me, speech fails 
 before this spectacle. To find you, here, at this hour! 
 To find you my betrothed wife s kinswoman and life 
 long associate, here, in this garb ! A slain man at your 
 feet, his blood yet reeking upon that stolen sword ! His 
 papers pardon me !" 
 
 Ormskirk sprang forward and caught the despatch-box 
 from her grasp as she strove to empty its contents into 
 the fire. "Pardon me," he repeated ; "you have unsexed 
 yourself ; do not add high treason to the list of your mis 
 demeanors. Mr. Vanringham s papers, as I have pre 
 viously had the honor to inform you, are the state s 
 property." 
 
 She stood with void and inefficient hands that groped 
 vaguely. "I could trust no one," she said. "I have 
 fenced so often with Gerald. I was not afraid at least, 
 I was not very much afraid. And twas so difficult to 
 draw him into a quarrel, he wanted to live, because at 
 last he had the money his dirty little soul had craved. 
 Ah, I had sacrificed so many things to get these papers, 
 my Lord Duke, and now you rob me of them. You !" 
 
 The Duke bent pitiless brows upon her. "I rob you 
 of them," he said, "ay, I am discourteous and I rob, 
 but not for myself alone. For your confusion tells me 
 that I hold here between my hands the salvation of Eng 
 land. Child, child!" he cried, in sudden tenderness, "I 
 trusted you to-day, and could you not trust me? I 
 promised you the life of the man you love. I promised 
 
ACTORS ALL 129 
 
 you " He broke off, as if in a rivalry of rage and 
 horror. "And you betrayed me! You came hither, 
 trousered and shameless, to save these harebrained 
 traitors! Well, but at worst your treachery has very 
 happily released me from my promise to meddle in the 
 fate of this Audaine. I shall not lift a finger now. And 
 I warn you that within the week your precious Captain 
 will have become the associate of seraphim." 
 
 She had heard him, with defiant eyes; her head was 
 flung back and she laughed. "You thought I had come 
 to destroy the Jacobite petition ! Heavens, what had I to 
 do with all such nonsense? You had promised me 
 Frank s pardon, and the other men I had never seen. 
 Harkee, my Lord Duke, do all you politicians jump so 
 wildly in your guess work ? Did you in truth believe that 
 the poor fool who lies dead below would have entrusted 
 the paper which meant life and wealth to the keeping of 
 a flimsy despatch-box ?" 
 
 "Indeed, no," his Grace of Ormskirk replied, and ap 
 peared a thought abashed; "I was certain it would be 
 concealed somewhere about his person, and I have al 
 ready given Benyon orders to search for it. Still, I con 
 fess that for the moment your agitation misled me into 
 believing these were the important papers; and I admit, 
 my dear creature, that unless you came hither prompted 
 by a mad design somehow to destroy the incriminating 
 documents and thereby to ensure your lover s life why, 
 otherwise, I repeat, I am quite unable to divine your 
 motive." 
 
 She was silent for a while. Presently, "You told me 
 this afternoon," she began, in a dull voice, "that you 
 anticipated much amusement from your perusal of Mr. 
 
130 GALLANTRY 
 
 Vanringham s correspondence. All his papers were to 
 be seized, you said ; and they all were to be brought 
 to you, you said. And so many love-sick misses write to 
 actors, you said." 
 
 "As I recall the conversation," his Grace conceded, 
 "that which you have stated is quite true." He spoke 
 with admirable languor, but his countenance was vaguely 
 troubled. 
 
 And now the girl came to him and laid her finger-tips 
 ever so lightly upon his. "Trust me," she pleaded. 
 "Give me again the trust I have not merited. Ay, in 
 spite of reason, my Lord Duke, restore to me these 
 papers unread, that I may destroy them. For otherwise, 
 I swear to you that without gain to yourself without 
 gain, O God ! you wreck alike the happiness of an in 
 nocent woman and of an honest gentleman. And other 
 wise O infatuate !" she wailed, and wrung impotent 
 hands. 
 
 But Ormskirk shook his head. "I cannot leap in the 
 dark." 
 
 She found no comfort in his face, and presently 
 lowered her eyes. He remained motionless. The girl 
 went to the farther end of the apartment, and then, her 
 form straightening on a sudden, turned and came back 
 toward him. 
 
 "I think God has some grudge against you," Dorothy 
 said, without any emotion, "and hardens your heart, as 
 of old He hardened Pharaoh s heart, to your own de 
 struction. I have done my utmost to save you. My 
 woman s modesty I have put aside, and death and worse 
 than death I have dared to encounter to-night, ah, my 
 Lord, I have walked through hell this night for your sake 
 
ACTORS ALL 131 
 
 and another s. And in the end tis yourself who rob me 
 of what I had so nearly gained. Beyond doubt God has 
 some grudge against you. Take your fate, then." 
 
 "Integer vita " said the Duke of Ormskirk ; and with 
 more acerbity, "Go on!" For momentarily she had 
 paused. 
 
 "The man who lies dead below was loved by many 
 women. God pity them! But women are not sensible 
 like men, you know. And always the footlights made 
 a halo about him; and when you saw him as Castalio or 
 Romeo, all beauty and love and vigor and nobility, how 
 was a woman to understand his splendor was a sham, 
 taken off with his wig, removed with his pinchbeck 
 jewelry, and as false? No, they thought it native, poor 
 wretches. Yet one of them at least, my Lord a young 
 girl found out her error before it was too late. The 
 man was a villain through and through. God grant he 
 sups in hell to-night !" 
 
 "Go on," said Ormskirk. But by this time he knew 
 all that she had to tell. 
 
 "Afterward he demanded money of her. He had 
 letters, you understand mad, foolish letters, and these 
 he offered to sell back to her at his own price. And their 
 publicity meant ruin. And, my Lord, we had so nearly 
 saved the money pinching day by day, a little by a little, 
 for his price was very high, and it was necessary the sum 
 be got in secrecy, and tliat in the end they should be read 
 by you " Her voice broke. 
 
 "Go on," said Ormskirk. 
 
 But her composure was shattered. "I would have 
 given my life to save her," the girl babbled. "Ah, you 
 know that I have tried to save her. I was not very 
 
132 GALLANTRY 
 
 much afraid. And it seemed the only way. So I came 
 hither, my Lord, as you see me, to get back the letters 
 before you, too, had come." 
 
 "There is but one woman in the world," the Duke said, 
 quietly, "for whom you would have done this thing. 
 You and Marian were reared together. Always you 
 have been inseparable, always you have been to each 
 other as sisters. Is this not what you are about to tell 
 me?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered. 
 
 "Well, you may spare yourself the pains of such un 
 profitable lying. That Marian Heleigh should have been 
 guilty of a vulgar liaison with an actor is to me, who 
 know her, unthinkable. No, madam ! It was fear, not 
 love, which drove you hither to-night, and now a baser 
 terror urges you to screen yourself by vilifying her. The 
 woman of whom you speak is yourself. The letters were 
 written by you." 
 
 She raised one arm as though a physical blow im 
 pended. "No, no!" she cried. 
 
 "Madam," the Duke said, "let us have done with these 
 dexterities. I have the vanity to believe I am not un 
 reasonably obtuse nor, I submit, unreasonably self- 
 righteous. Love is a monstrous force, as irrational, I 
 sometimes think, as the force of the thunderbolt; it ap 
 pears neither to select nor to eschew, but merely to strike ; 
 and it is not my duty to asperse or to commend its victims. 
 You have loved unworthily. From the bottom of my 
 heart I pity you, and I would that you had trusted me 
 had trusted me enough " His voice was not quite 
 steady. "Ah, my dear," said Ormskirk, "you should 
 have confided all to me this afternoon. It hurts me that 
 
ACTORS ALL 133 
 
 you did not, for I am no Pharisee and God knows! 
 my own past is not immaculate. I would have under 
 stood, I think. Yet as it is, take back your letters, child, 
 nay, in Heaven s name, take them in pledge of an old 
 man s love for Dorothy Allonby." 
 
 The girl obeyed, turning them in her hands, the while 
 that her eyes were riveted to Ormskirk s face. And in 
 Aprilian fashion she began to smile through her tears. 
 "You are superb, my Lord Duke. You comprehend that 
 Marian wrote these letters, and that if you read them 
 and I Jcnew of it, your pride would force you to break 
 off the match, because your notions as to what is be 
 fitting in a Duchess of Ormskirk are precise. But you 
 want Marian, you want her even more than I had feared. 
 Therefore, you give me all these letters, because you 
 know that I will destroy them, and thus an inconvenient 
 knowledge will be spared you. Oh, beyond doubt, you 
 are superb." 
 
 "I give them to you," Ormskirk answered, "because I 
 have seen through your cowardly and clumsy lie, and 
 have only pity for a thing so* base as you. I give them 
 to you because to read one syllable of their contents would 
 be to admit I had some faith in your preposterous fabri 
 cation." 
 
 But she shook her head. "Words, words, my Lord 
 Duke ! I understand you to the marrow. And, in part, 
 I think that I admire you." 
 
 He was angry now. "Eh ! for the love of God," cried 
 the Duke of Ormskirk, "let us burn the accursed things 
 and have no more verbiage !" He seized the papers and 
 flung them into the fire. 
 
 Then these two watched the papers consume to ashes, 
 
134 GALLANTRY 
 
 and stood a while in silence, the gaze of neither lifting 
 higher than the andirons; and presently there was a tap 
 ping at the door. 
 
 "That will be Benyon," the Duke said, with careful 
 modulations. "Enter, man ! What news is there of this 
 Vanringham ?" 
 
 "He will recover, your Grace, though he has lost much 
 blood. Mr. Vanringham has regained consciousness and 
 took occasion to whisper me your Grace would find the 
 needful papers in his escritoire, in the brown despatch- 
 box." 
 
 "That is well," the Duke retorted. "You may go, 
 Benyon." And when the door had closed, he began in 
 curiously : "Then you are not a murderess at least, Miss 
 Allonby. At least " He made a queer noise as he 
 gazed at the despatch-box in his hand. "The brown 
 box!" It fell to the floor. Ormskirk drew near to her, 
 staring, moving stiffly like a hinged toy. "I must have 
 the truth," he said, without a trace of any human passion. 
 This was the Ormskirk men had known in Scotland. 
 
 "Yes," she answered, "they were the Jacobite papers. 
 You burned them." 
 
 "I!" said the Duke. 
 
 Presently he said : "Do you not understand what this 
 farce has cost? Thanks to you, I have no iota of proof 
 against these men. I cannot touch these rebels. O 
 madam, I pray Heaven that you have not by this night s 
 trickery destroyed England!" 
 
 "I did it to save the man I love," she proudly said. 
 
 "I had promised you his life." 
 
 "But would you have kept that promise ?" 
 
 "No," he answered, simply. 
 
ACTORS ALL 135 
 
 "Then are we quits, my Lord. You lied to me, and I 
 to you. Oh, I know that were I a man you would kill 
 me within the moment. But you respect my woman 
 hood. Ah, goodness !" the girl cried, shrilly, "what very 
 edifying respect for womanhood have you, who burned 
 those papers because you believed my dearest Marian had 
 stooped to a painted mountebank !" 
 
 "I burned them yes, in the belief that I was saving 
 you." 
 
 She laughed in his face. "You never believed that, 
 not for an instant." 
 
 But by this time Ormskirk had regained his composure. 
 "The hour is somewhat late, and the discussion if you 
 will pardon the suggestion, not likely to be profitable. 
 The upshot of the whole matter is that I am now power 
 less to harm anybody I submit the simile of the fangless 
 snake, and that Captain Audaine will have his release in 
 the morning. Accordingly you will now permit me to 
 wish you a pleasant night s rest. Benyon!" he called, 
 "you will escort Mr. Osric Allonby homeward. I remain 
 to clear up this affair." 
 
 He held open the door for her, and, bowing, stood aside 
 that she might pass. 
 
 VIII 
 
 But afterward the great Duke of Ormskirk continued 
 for a long while motionless and faintly smiling as he gazed 
 into the fire. Tricked and ignominiously defeated ! Ay, 
 but that was a trifle now, scarcely worthy of considera 
 tion. The girl had hoodwinked him, had lied more skil 
 fully than he, yet in the fact that she had lied he found a 
 
136 GALLANTRY 
 
 prodigal atonement. Whigs and Jacobites might have 
 their uses in the cosmic scheme, he reflected, as house- 
 flies have, but what really mattered was that at Halver- 
 gate yonder Marian awaited his coming. And in place of 
 statecraft he fell to thinking of two hazel eyes and of 
 abundant hair the color of a dead oak-leaf. 
 
VI 
 
 APRIL S MESSAGE 
 As Played at Halvergate House^ April 9, 1750 
 
 "You cannot love, nor pleasure take, nor give, 
 But life begin when tis too late to live. 
 On a tired courser you pursue delight, 
 Let slip your morning, and set out at night. 
 If you have lived, take thankfully the past; 
 Make, as you can, the sweet remembrance last. 
 If you have not enjoyed what youth could give, 
 But life sunk through you, like a leaky sieve! 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 DUKE OF ORMSKIRK. 
 
 EARL OF BRUDENEL, father to Lady Marian Heleigh, who 
 
 has retired sometime into the country. 
 LORD HUMPHREY DEGGE, a gamester, and Ormskirk s 
 
 hireling. 
 MR. LANGTON, secretary to Ormskirk. 
 
 LADY MARIAN HELEIGH, betrothed to Ormskirk, a young, 
 beautiful girl of a mild and tender disposition. 
 
 SCENE 
 The east terrace of Halvergate House. 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 
 
 PROEM .-Apologia pro Auctore 
 
 IT occurs to me that we here assume intimacy with a 
 man of unusual achievement, and therefore tread 
 upon quaggy premises. Yet I do but avail myself of 
 to-day s privilege. . . . It is an odd thing that people will 
 facilely assent to Don Adriano s protestation against a 
 certain travestying of Hector, "Sweet chucks, beat not 
 the bones of the dead, for when he breathed he was a 
 man," even while through the instant the tide of ro 
 mance will be setting quite otherwhither, with their con 
 donation. F6r in all the best approved romances the 
 more sumptuous persons of antiquity are very guilty of 
 twaddle on at least one printed page in ten, and nobody 
 remonstrates ; and here is John Bulmer, too, lugged from 
 the grave for your delectation. 
 
 I presume, however, to palliate the offence. The curi 
 ous may find the gist of what I narrate concerning Orms- 
 kirk in Heinrich Lowe s biography of the man, and will 
 there discover that with established facts I have not made 
 bold to juggle. Only when knowledge failed have I 
 bridged the void with speculation. Perhaps I have 
 guessed wrongly : the feat is not unhuman, and in provi 
 sion against detection therein I can only protest that this 
 lack of omniscience was never due to malice; faithfully 
 I have endeavored to deduce from the known the prob- 
 
 139 
 
140 GALLANTRY 
 
 able, and in nothing to misrepresent to you this big man 
 of a little age, this trout among a school of minnows. 
 
 Trout, mark you; I claim for Ormskirk no leviathan- 
 ship. Rather I would remind you of a passage from 
 somewhat anterior memoirs : "The Emperor of Lilliput 
 is taller, by almost the breadth of my nail, than any of 
 his court, which alone is enough to strike an awe into his 
 beholders." 
 
 This, however, is not the place to expatiate on Orms- 
 kirk s extraordinary career; his rise from penury and 
 obscurity, tempered indeed by gentle birth, to the priviest 
 secrets of his Majesty s council, climbing the peerage 
 step by step as though that institution had been a garden- 
 ladder, may be read of in the history books. 
 
 "I collect titles as an entomologist does butterflies," he 
 is recorded to have said : "and I find the gaudier ones the 
 cheapest. My barony I got for a very heinous piece of 
 perjury, my earldom for not running away until the latter 
 end of a certain battle, my marquisate for hoodwinking 
 a half-senile Frenchman, and my dukedom for fetching 
 in a quack doctor when he was sore needed by a lady 
 whom the King at that time delighted to honor." 
 
 It was, you observe, a day of candors. 
 
 The Duke of Ormskirk, then (one gleans from Lowe s 
 pages), dismissed from mind the Audaine conspiracy. It 
 was a pity to miss the salutary effect of a few political 
 executions just then, but after all there was nothing to 
 be done about it. So the Duke turned to the one consola 
 tion offered by the affair, and set out for Halvergate 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 141 
 
 House, the home of Marian Heleigh s father. There one 
 finds him, six days later, deep in a consultation with his 
 secretary, which in consideration of the unseasonable 
 warmth was held upon the east terrace. 
 
 "Yes, I think we had better have the fellow hanged on 
 the thirteenth," said Ormskirk, as he leisurely affixed his 
 signature. "The date seems eminently appropriate. Now 
 the papers concerning the French treaty, if you please, 
 Mr. Langton." 
 
 The impassive- faced young man who sat opposite 
 placed a despatch-box between them. "These were sent 
 down from London only last night, sir. Mr. Morfit * 
 has been somewhat dilatory." 
 
 "Eh, it scarcely matters. .1 looked them over in bed 
 this morning and found them quite correct, Mr. Langton, 
 quite Why, heyday!" the Duke demanded, "what s 
 this? You have brought me the despatch-box from my 
 dresser not, as I distinctly told you, from the table by 
 my bed. Nay, I have had quite enough of mistakes con 
 cerning despatch-boxes, Mr. Langton." 
 
 Mr. Langton stammered that the error was natural. 
 Two despatch-boxes were in appearances so similar 
 
 "Never make excuses, Mr. Langton. Qui s excuse 
 You can complete the proverb, I suppose. Bring me 
 Morfit s report this afternoon, then. Yes, that appears 
 to be all. You may go now, Mr. Langton. No, you may 
 leave that box, I think, since it is here. O man, man, 
 a mistake isn t high treason! Go away, Mr. Langton! 
 you annoy me." 
 
 1 Perhaps the most adroit of all the many spies in Ormskirk s 
 employment. It was this same Morfit who in 1756 accompanied 
 Damiens into France as far as Calais ; and see page 16. 
 
142 GALLANTRY 
 
 Left alone, the Duke of Ormskirk sat for a while, tap 
 ping his fingers irresolutely against the open despatch- 
 box. He frowned a little, for, with fair reason to believe 
 Tom Langton his son, he found the boy too stolid, too 
 unimaginative, to go far. It seemed to Ormskirk that 
 none of his illegitimate children displayed any particular 
 promise, and he sighed. Then he took a paper from the 
 despatch-box, and began to read. 
 
 He sat, as one had said, upon the east terrace of Halver- 
 gate House. Behind him a tall yew-hedge shut off the 
 sunlight from the table where he and Tom Langton had 
 earlier completed divers businesses ; in front of him a 
 balustrade, ivy-covered, and set with flower-pots of stone, 
 empty as yet, half screened the terraced gardens that sank 
 to the artificial lake below. 
 
 The Duke could see only a vast expanse of sky and a 
 stray bit of Halvergate printing the horizon with turrets, 
 all sober gray save where the two big copper cupolas of 
 the south fagade burned in the April sun ; but by bending 
 forward you glimpsed close-shaven lawns dotted with 
 clipped trees and statues, as though, he reflected, Glum- 
 dalclitch had left her toys scattered haphazard about a 
 green blanket, and the white of the broad marble stair 
 way descending to the sunlit lake, and, at times, the flash 
 of a swan s deliberate passage across the lake s surface. 
 All white and green and blue the vista was, and of a 
 monastic tranquillity, save for the plashing of a fountain 
 behind the yew-hedge and the grumblings of an occasional 
 bee that lurched complainingly on some by-errand of the 
 hive. 
 
 Presently his Grace of Ormskirk replaced the papers 
 in the despatch-box, and, leaning forward, sighed. "Non 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 143 
 
 sum qualis cram sub bones regno Cynara," said his Grace 
 of Ormskirk. He had a statesman-like partiality for the 
 fag-end of an alcaic. 
 
 Then he lifted his head at the sound of a girl s voice. 
 Somewhere rearward to the hedge the girl idly sang an 
 old song of Thomas Heywood s, in a serene contralto, 
 low-pitched and effortless, but very sweet. Smilingly the 
 Duke beat time. 
 
 Sang the girl : 
 
 "Pack clouds away, and welcome, dayl 
 With night we banish sorrow: 
 Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft, 
 To give my love good-morrow. 
 Wings from the wind to please her mind, > 
 Notes from the lark I ll borrow: 
 Bird, prune thy wing; nightingale, sing, 
 To give my love good-morrow." 
 
 And here the Duke chimed in with a sufficiently pleas 
 ing baritone : 
 
 "To give my love good-morrow, 
 Notes from them all I ll borrow." 
 
 "O heavens!" spoke the possessor of the contralto, 
 "I would have thought you were far too busy sending 
 people to gaol and arranging their execution, and so on, 
 to have any time for music. I am going for a walk in 
 the forest, Jack." Considering for a moment, she added, 
 "You may come, too, if you like." 
 
 But the concession was made so half-heartedly that in 
 the instant the Duke of Ormskirk raised a dissenting 
 hand. "I would not annoy you for an emperor s ransom. 
 Go in peace, my child." 
 
144 GALLANTRY 
 
 Lady Marian Heleigh stood at an opening- in the yew- 
 hedge and regarded him for a lengthy interval in silence. 
 Slender, men called her, and women "a bean pole." 
 There was about her a great deal of the child and some 
 thing of the wood-nymph. She had abundant hair, the 
 color of a dead oak-leaf, and her skin was clear, with a 
 brown tinge. Her eyes puzzled you by being neither 
 brown nor green consistently ; no sooner had you con 
 victed them of verdancy than they shifted to the hue of 
 polished maple, and vice versa; but they were too large 
 for* her face, which narrowed rather abruptly beneath a 
 broad, low forehead, and they flavored her aspect with 
 the shrewd innocence of a kitten. She was by ordinary 
 grave; but, animated, her countenance quickened with 
 somewhat the glow of a brown diamond ; then her gen 
 erous eyes flashed and filmed like waters moving under 
 starlight, then you knew she was beautiful. All in all, 
 you saw in Marian a woman designed to be petted, a 
 Columbine rather than a Cleopatra ; her lures would never 
 shake the stability of a kingdom, but would inevitably gut 
 its toy-shops ; and her departure left you meditative less 
 of high enterprises than of buying something for her. 
 
 Now Marian considered her betrothed, and seemed to 
 come at last to a conclusion that skirted platitude. 
 "Jack, two people can be fond of each other without 
 wanting to be together all the time. And I really am 
 fond of you, Jack." 
 
 * I would be a fool if I questioned the first statement," 
 rejoined the Duke ; "and if I questioned the second, very 
 miserable. Nevertheless, you go in pursuit of strange 
 gods, and I decline to follow." 
 
 Her eyebrows interrogated him. 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 145 
 
 "You are going," the Duke continued, "in pursuit of 
 gods beside whom I esteem Zidonian Ashtoreth, and Che- 
 mosh, and Milcom, the abomination of the Ammonites, 
 to be commendable objects of worship. You will pardon 
 my pedantic display of learning, for my feelings are 
 strong. You are going to sit in the woods. You will 
 probably sit under a youngish tree, and its branches will 
 sway almost to the ground and make a green, sun-steeped 
 tent about you, as though you sat at the heart of an 
 emerald. You will hear the kindly wood-gods go stealth 
 ily about the forest, and you will know that they are 
 watching you, but you will never see them. From be 
 hind every tree-bole they will watch you ; you feel it, but 
 you never, never quite see them. Presently the sweet, 
 warm odors of the place and its perpetual whispering and 
 the inimitably idiotic boasting of the birds, that any 
 living creature should be proud of having constructed 
 one of their nasty little nests is a reflection to baffle under 
 standing, this hodge-podge of sensations, I say, will in 
 toxicate you. Yes, it will thoroughly intoxicate you, 
 Marian, and you sit there quite still, in a sort of stupor, 
 drugged into the inebriate s magnanimity, firmly believ 
 ing that the remainder of your life will be throughout 
 of finer texture, earth-spurning, free from all pettiness, 
 and at worst vexed only by the noblest sorrows. Bah !" 
 cried the Duke ; "I have no patience with such nonsense ! 
 You will believe it to the tiniest syllable, that wonderful 
 lying message which April whispers to every living crea 
 ture that is young, then you will return to me, a slim, 
 star-eyed Maenad, and will see that I am wrinkled. But 
 do you go your ways, none the less, for April is waiting 
 for you yonder, beautiful, mendacious, splendid April. 
 
146 GALLANTRY 
 
 And I? Faith, April has no message for me, my dear." 
 He laughed, but with a touch of wistfulness; and the 
 girl came to him, laying her hand upon his arm, surprised 
 into a sort of hesitant affection. 
 
 "How did you know, Jack ? How did you know that 
 things, invisible, gracious things, went about the spring 
 woods? I never thought that you knew of them. You 
 always seemed so sensible. I have reasoned it out, 
 though," Marian went on, sagaciously wrinkled as to the 
 brow. "They are probably the heathen fauns and satyrs 
 and such, one feels somehow that they are all men. 
 Don t you, Jack? Well, when the elder gods were sent 
 packing from Olympus there was naturally no employ 
 ment left for these sylvan folk. So April took them into 
 her service. Each year she sends them, about every 
 forest on her errands : she sends them to make the daffo 
 dil-cups, for instance, which I suppose is difficult, for evi 
 dently they make them out of sunshine; or to pencil 
 the eyelids of the narcissi narcissi are brazen creatures, 
 Jack, and use a deal of kohl ; or to marshal the fleecy 
 young clouds about the sky; or to whistle the birds up 
 from the south. Oh, she keeps them busy, does April ! 
 And tis true that if you be quite still you can hear them 
 tripping among the dead leaves; and they watch you 
 with very bright, twinkling little eyes, I think, but you 
 never see them. And always, always there is that enor 
 mous whispering, half -friendly, half -menacing, as if 
 the woods were trying to tell you something. Tis not 
 only the foliage rustling. . . . No, I have often thought 
 it sounded like some gigantic foreigner some Titan 
 probably, trying in his own queer and outlandish lan 
 guage to tell you something very important, something 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 147 
 
 that means a deal to you, and to you in particular. Has 
 not anybody ever understood him?" 
 
 He smiled. "And I, too, have dwelt in Arcadia," said 
 his Grace of Ormskirk. "Yes, I once heard April s 
 message, Marian, for all my crow s-feet. But that was a 
 long while ago, and perhaps I have forgotten it. I cannot 
 tell, my dear. It is only from April in her own person 
 that one hears this immemorial message. And as for me ? 
 Eh, I go into the April woods, and I find trees there of 
 various sizes that pay no attention to me, and shrill, dingy 
 little birds that deafen me, and it may be a gaudy flower 
 or two, and, in any event, I find a vast quantity of sodden, 
 decaying leaves to warn me the place is no fitting haunt 
 for a gentleman afflicted with rheumatism. So I come 
 away, my dear." 
 
 Marian looked him over for a moment. "You are not 
 really old," she said, with rather conscious politeness. 
 "And you are wonderfully well-preserved. Why, Jack, 
 do you mind not being foolish?" she demanded, on a 
 sudden. 
 
 He debated the matter. Then, "Yes," the Duke of 
 Ormskirk conceded, "I suppose I do, at the bottom of my 
 heart, regret that lost folly. A part of me died, you 
 understand, when it vanished, and it is not exhilarating to 
 think of one s self as even partially dead. Once I 
 hardly know" he sought the phrase, "once this was a 
 spacious and inexplicable world, with a mystery up every 
 lane and an adventure around each street-corner ; a world 
 inhabited by most marvelous men and women, some 
 amiable, and some detestable, but every one of them very 
 interesting. And now I miss the wonder of it all. You 
 will presently discover, my dear, that youth is only an in- 
 
148 GALLANTRY 
 
 genious prologue to whet one s appetite for a rather dull 
 play. Eh, I am no pessimist, one may still find satis 
 faction in the exercise of mind and body, in the pleasures 
 of thought and taste and in other titillations of one s 
 faculties. Dinner is good and sleep, too, is excellent. 
 But we men and women tend, upon too close inspection, 
 to appear rather paltry flies that buzz and bustle aimlessly 
 about, and breed perhaps, and eventually die, and rot, and 
 are swept away from this fragile window-pane of time 
 that opens on eternity." 
 
 "If you are, indeed, the sort of person you describe," 
 said Marian, reflectively, "I do not at all blame April 
 for having no communication with anyone possessed of 
 such extremely unpleasant opinions. But for my own 
 part, I shall never cease to wonder what it is that the 
 woods whisper about." 
 
 Appraising her, he hazarded a cryptic question, "Vase 
 of delights, and have you never cared ?" 
 
 "Why, yes, I think so," she answered, readily enough. 
 "At least, I used to be very fond of Humphrey Degge, 
 that is the Marquis of Venour s place yonder, you know, 
 just past the spur of the forest, but he was only a 
 younger son, so of course Father wouldn t hear of it. 
 That was rather fortunate, as Humphrey by and by went 
 mad about Dorothy s blue eyes and fine shape, I think 
 her money had a deal to do with it, too, and in any event, 
 she will be fat as a pig at thirty, and so we quarrelled. 
 And I minded it at first. And now well, I scarcely 
 know." Marian hesitated. "He was a handsome man, 
 but that ridiculous cavalry moustache of his was so 
 bristly" 
 
 "I beg your pardon ?" said the Duke. 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 149 
 
 " that it disfigured him dreadfully," said she, with 
 firmness. She had colored. 
 
 His Grace of Ormskirk was moved to mirth. "Child, 
 child, you are so deliciously young it appears a monstrous 
 crime to marry you to an old fellow like me !" He took 
 her firm, soft hand in his. "Are you quite sure you can 
 endure me, Marian?" 
 
 "Why, but of course I want to marry you," she said, 
 naively surprised. "How else could I be Duchess of 
 Ormskirk?" 
 
 Again he chuckled. "You are a worldly little wretch," 
 he stated ; "but if you want my title for a new toy, it is 
 at your service. And now be off with you, you and 
 your foolish woods, indeed !" 
 
 Marian went a slight distance and then turned about, 
 troubled. "I am really very fond of you, Jack," she said, 
 conscientiously. 
 
 "Be off with you!" the Duke scolded. "You should 
 be ashamed of yourself to practice such flatteries and 
 blandishments on a defenceless old gentleman. You had 
 best hurry, too, for if you don t I shall probably kiss you," 
 he threatened. "I, also," he added, with point. 
 
 She blew him a kiss from her finger-tips and went away 
 singing. 
 
 Sang Marian: 
 
 "Blackbird and thrush, in every bush, 
 Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow, 
 You pretty elves, amongst yourselves, 
 Sing my fair love good-morrow. 
 To give my love good-morrow, 
 Sing birds, in every furrow." 
 
150 GALLANTRY 
 
 II 
 
 Left to his own resources, the Duke of Ormskirk sat 
 down beside the table and fell to making irrelevant marks 
 upon a bit of paper. He hummed the air of Marian s 
 song. There was a vague contention in his face. Once 
 he put out his hand toward the open despatch-box, but 
 immediately he sighed and pushed it farther from him. 
 Presently he propped his chin upon both hands and 
 stayed in the attitude for a long while, staring past the 
 balustrade at the clear, pale sky of April. 
 
 Thus Marian s father, the Earl of Brudenel, found 
 Ormskirk. The Earl was lean and gray, though only 
 three years older than his prospective son-in-law, and had 
 been Ormskirk s intimate since boyhood. Ormskirk had 
 for Lord Brudenel s society the liking that a successful 
 person usually preserves for posturing in the gaze of his 
 outrivalled school-fellows: Brudenel was an embodied 
 and flattering commentary as to what a less able man 
 might make of chances far more auspicious than Orms 
 kirk ever enjoyed. All failure the Earl s life had been ; 
 in London they had long ago forgotten handsome Harry 
 Heleigh and the composure with which he nightly shoved 
 his dwindling patrimony across the gaming-table; about 
 Halvergate men called him "the muddled Earl," and said 
 of him that his heart died with his young wife some 
 eighteen years back. Now he vegetated in the home of 
 his fathers, contentedly, a veteran of life, retaining still a 
 mild pride in his past vagaries; 1 and kindly time had 
 
 1 It was then well said of him by Claridge, "It is Lord Henry 
 Heleigh s vanity to show that he is a man of pleasure as well as 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 151 
 
 armed him with the benumbing, impenetrable indifference 
 of the confessed failure. He was abstractedly courteous 
 to servants, and he would not, you felt, have given even 
 to an emperor his undivided attention. For the rest, the 
 former wastrel had turned miser, and went noticeably 
 shabby as a rule, but this morning he was trimly clothed, 
 for he was returning homeward from the quarter-sessions 
 at Winstead. 
 
 "Dreamer!" said the Earl. "I do not wonder that 
 you grow fat." 
 
 The Duke smiled up at him. "Confound you, Harry !" 
 said he, "I had just overreached myself into believing I 
 had made what the world calls a mess of my career and 
 was supremely happy. There are disturbing influences 
 abroad to-day." He waved his hand toward the green- 
 and- white gardens. "Old friend, you permit disreputable 
 trespassers about Halvergate. See you not Goldy-locks 
 there, in her yellow gown and green sleeves ? the profane 
 pipes, the tinkling timbrels? Spring is at her wiles 
 yonder, Spring, the liar, the queen-cheat, Spring that 
 tricks all men into happiness." 
 
 " Tore Gad," the Earl capped his quotation, "if the 
 heathen man could stop his ears with wax against the 
 singing woman of the sea, then do you the like with your 
 fingers against the trollop of the forest." 
 
 "Faith, time seals them firmlier than wax. You 
 and I may sit snug now with never a quicker heart 
 beat for all her lures. Yet I seem to remember, once 
 a long while ago when we old fellows were some- 
 
 of business; and thus, in settlement, the expedition he displays 
 toward a fellow-gambler is equitably balanced by his tardiness 
 toward a too-credulous shoemaker." 
 
152 GALLANTRY 
 
 what sprier, I, too, seem to remember this Spring- 
 magic." 
 
 "Indeed," observed the Earl, seating himself pon 
 derously, "if you refer to a certain inclination at that 
 period of the year toward the likeliest wench in the 
 neighborhood, so do I. Tis an obvious provision of 
 nature, I take it, to secure the perpetuation of the species. 
 Spring comes, and she sets us all a-mating humanity, 
 partridges, poultry, pigs, every blessed one of us she 
 sets a-mating. Propagation, Jack, propagation is neces 
 sary, d ye see ; because," the Earl conclusively demanded, 
 "what on earth would become of us if we didn t propa 
 gate?" 
 
 "The argument is unanswerable," the Duke conceded. 
 "Yet I miss it, this Spring-magic that no longer sets the 
 blood of us staid fellows a- fret." 
 
 "And I," said Lord Brudenel, "do not. It got me into 
 the deuce o>f a scrape more than once." 
 
 "Yours is the sensible view, no doubt. . . . Yet I miss 
 it. Ah, it is not only the wenches and the red lips of old 
 years, it is not only that at this season lasses hearts grow 
 tender. There are some verses " The Duke quoted, 
 with a half-guilty air: , 
 
 "Now I loiter, and dream to the branches swaying 
 In furtive conference, high overhead, 
 Atingle with rumors that Winter is sped 
 And over his ruins a world goes Maying. 
 
 "Somewhere impressively, people are saying 
 Intelligent things (which their grandmothers said). 
 While I loiter, and dream to the branches swaying 
 In furtive conference, high overhead." 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 153 
 
 "Verses !" The Earl snorted. "At your age !" 
 
 "Here the hand of April, unwashed from slaying 
 Earth s fallen tyrant for Winter is dead, 
 Uncloses anemones, staining them red : 
 And her daffodils guard me in squads, displaying 
 Intrepid lances lest wis dom tread! 
 Where I loiter and dream to the branches swaying 
 
 "Well, Harry, and to-day I cannot do so any longer. 
 That is what I most miss, the ability to lie a-sprawl in 
 the spring grass and dream out an uncharted world, a 
 dream so vivid that, beside it, reality grew tenuous, and 
 the actual world became one of childhood s shrug-provok 
 ing bugbears dimly remembered." 
 
 "I do not understand poetry," the Earl apologetically 
 observed. "It appears to me unreasonable to advance 
 a statement simply because it happens to rhyme with a 
 statement you have previously made. And that is what 
 all you poets do. Why, this is very remarkable," said 
 Lord Brudenel, with a change of tone; "yonder is young 
 Humphrey Degge with* Marian. I had thought him in 
 bed at Tunbridge. Did I not hear something of an affair 
 with a house-breaker ?" 
 
 Then the Earl gave an exclamation, for in full view of 
 them Lord Humphrey. Degge was kissing Lord Brudenel s 
 daughter. 
 
 "Oh, the devil!" said the Earl. "Oh, the insolent 
 young ape!" 
 
 "Nay," said the Duke, restraining him; "not partic 
 ularly insolent, Harry. If you will observe more closely 
 you will see that Marian does not exactly object to his ca- 
 
154 GALLANTRY 
 
 resses quite the contrary, I would say. I told you that 
 you should not permit Spring" about the premises." 
 
 The Earl wheeled* in an extreme of astonishment. 
 "Come, come, sir! she is your betrothed wife! Do you 
 not intend to kill the" fellow?" 
 
 "My faith, why?" said his Grace of Ormskirk, with a 
 shrug. "As for betrothals-, do you not see that she is al 
 ready very happily paired?" 
 
 In answer Brudenel raised his hands toward heaven, in 
 just the contention of despair and rage appropriate to 
 parental affection when an excellent match is imperilled 
 by a chit s idiocy. 
 
 Marian and Lord Humphrey Degge were mounting 
 from the scrap of forest that juts from Pevis Hill, like 
 a spur from a man s heel, between Agard Court and 
 Halvergate. Their progress was not conspicuous for 
 celerity. Now they had attained to the tiny, elm- 
 shadowed plateau beyond the yew-hedge, and there 
 Marian paused. Two daffodils had fallen from the great 
 green-and-yellow cluster in her left hand. Humphrey 
 Degge lifted them, and then raised to his mouth the 
 slender fingers that reached toward the flowers. The 
 man s pallor, you would have said, was not altogether 
 due to his recent wound. 
 
 She stood looking up at him, smiling a little timidly, 
 her teeth glinting through parted lips, her eyes star-fire, 
 her cheeks blazoning gules in his honor; she seemed not 
 to breathe at all. A faint twinge woke in the Duke of 
 Ormskirk s heart. Most women smiled upon him, but 
 they smiled beneath furtive eyes, sometimes beneath 
 rapacious eyes, and many smiled with reddened lips which 
 strove, uneasily, to provoke a rental ; how long was it he 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 155 
 
 wondered, simply, since any woman had smiled as Marian 
 smiled now, for him ? 
 
 "I think it is a dream," said Marian. 
 
 From the vantage of the yew-hedge, "I would to 
 Heaven I could think so, too," observed her father. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The younger people had passed out of sight. But from 
 the rear of the hedge came to the Duke and Lord 
 Brudenel, staring blankly at each other across the paper- 
 littered table, a sort of duet. First tenor, then contralto, 
 then tenor again, and so on, with many long intervals of 
 silence, during which you heard the plashing of the foun 
 tain, grown doubly audible, and, it might be, the sharp, 
 plaintive cry of a bird intensified by the stillness. 
 
 "I think it is a dream," said Marian. . . . 
 
 "What eyes you have, Marian !" 
 
 "But you have not kissed the littlest finger of all. See, 
 it is quite stiff with indignation." 
 
 "They are green, and brown, and yellow O Marian, 
 there are little gold specks in them like those in eau de 
 Dantzig! They are quite wonderful eyes, Marian. And 
 your hair is all streaky gold-and-brown. You should not 
 have two colors in your hair, Marian. Marian, did any 
 one ever tell you that you are very beautiful?" 
 
 Silence. "Pee-weet !" said a bird. "Tweet?" 
 
 And Marian replied: "I am devoted to Dorothy, of 
 course, but I have never admired her fashion of making 
 advances to every man she meets. Yes, she does." 
 
 "Nay, twas only her money that lured me, to do her 
 justice. It appeared so very sensible to marry an heir- 
 
156 GALLANTRY 
 
 ess. . . . But how can any man be sensible so long as 
 he is haunted by the memory of your eyes? For see 
 how bright they are, see, here in the water. Two stars 
 have fallen into the fountain, Marian." 
 
 "You are handsomer so. Your nose is too short, but 
 here in the fountain you are quite handsome " 
 
 "Marian," 
 
 "I wonder how many other women s fingers you have 
 kissed like that. Ah, don t tell me, Humphrey ! Hum 
 phrey, promise me that you will always lie to me when I 
 ask you about those other women. Lie to me, my dear, 
 and I will know that you are lying and love you all the 
 better for it. ... You should not have told me about 
 Dorothy. How often did you kiss all of Dorothy s finger 
 tips one by one, in just that foolish, dear way ?" 
 
 "But who was this Dorothy you speak of, Marian? 
 I have forgotten. Oh, yes we quarrelled over some 
 woman, and I went away. I left you for a mere heiress, 
 Marian. You! And five days ago while I lay abed, 
 wounded, they told me that you were to marry Ormskirk. 
 I thought I would go mad. . . . Eh, I remember now. 
 But what do these things matter ? Is it not of far greater 
 importance that the sunlight turns your hair to pure 
 topaz ?" 
 
 "Ah, my hair, my eyes ! Is it these you care for ? You 
 would not love me, then, if I were old and ugly?" 
 
 "Eh, I love you." 
 
 "Animal!" . . . 
 
 There was a longer silence now. "Tweet !" said a bird, 
 pertly. 
 
 Then Marian said, "Let us go to my father." 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 157 
 
 "To tell him ?" 
 
 "Why, that I love you, I suppose, and that I cannot 
 marry Jack, not even to be a duchess. Oh, I did so much 
 want to be a duchess ! But when you came back to me 
 yonder in the forest, somehow I stopped wanting any 
 thing more. Something I hardly know something 
 seemed to say, as you came striding through the dead 
 leaves, laughing and so very pale, something seemed 
 to say, You love him oh, quite audibly." 
 
 "Audibly ! Why, the woods whispered it, the birds 
 trilled it, screamed it, the very leaves underfoot crackled 
 assent. Only they said, You love her the girl yonder 
 with glad, frightened eyes, Spring s daughter. Oh, I too, 
 heard it, Marian ! Follow, the birds sang, follow, fol 
 low, follow, for yonder is the heart s desire !" 
 
 The Duke of Ormskirk raised his head, his lips sketch 
 ing a whistle. "Ah! ah!" he muttered. "Eureka! I, 
 have recaptured it the message of April." 
 
 IV 
 
 When these two had gone the Duke flung out his hands 
 in a comprehensive gesture of giving up the entire matter. 
 "Well," said he, "you see how it is !" 
 
 "I do," Lord Brudenel assented. "And if you intend 
 to sit patient under it, I, at least, wear a sword. Con 
 found it, Jack, do you suppose I am going to have pro 
 miscuous young men dropping out of the skies and em 
 bracing my daughter?" The Earl became forceful in his 
 language. 
 
 "Harry," the Duke began. 
 
158 GALLANTRY 
 
 "The fellow hasn t a penny not a stick or a stiver to 
 his name ! He s only a rascally, impudent younger son 
 and even Venour has nothing except Agard Court yonder ! 
 That that crow s nest!" Lord Brudenel spluttered. 
 "They mooned about together a great deal a year ago, but 
 I thought nothing of it ; then he went away, and she never 
 spoke of him again. Never spoke of him oh, the jade!" 
 
 The Duke of Ormskirk considered the affair, a mild 
 amusement waking in his plump face. 
 
 "Old friend," said he, at length, "it is my opinion that 
 we are perilously near to being a couple of fools. We 
 planned this marriage, you and I ^dear, dear, we planned 
 it when Marian was scarcely out of her cradle ! But we 
 failed to take nature into the plot, Harry. It was 
 sensible Oh, granted! I obtained a suitable mistress 
 for Ingilby and Bottreaux Towers, a magnificent orna 
 ment for my coach and my opera-box ; while you your 
 pardon, old friend, if I word it somewhat grossly, you, 
 in effect, obtained a wealthy and not uninfluential hus 
 band for your daughter. Nay, I think you are fond of 
 me, but that is beside the mark; it was not Jack Bulmer 
 who was to marry your daughter, but the Duke of Orms 
 kirk. The thing was as logical as a sale of bullocks, 
 value for value. But now nature intervenes, and" he 
 snapped his fingers, "eh, well, since she wants this 
 Humphrey Degge, of course she must have him," 
 
 Lord Brudenel mentioned several penalties which he 
 would voluntarily incur in case of any such preposter 
 ous marriage. 
 
 "Your style," the Duke regretfully observed, "is some 
 what more original than your subject. You have a hand 
 some daughter to barter, and you want your price. The 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 159 
 
 thing is far from uncommon. Yet you shall have your 
 price, Harry. What estate do you demand of your 
 son-in-law ?" 
 
 "What the devil are you driving at?" said Lord 
 Brudenel. 
 
 Composedly the Duke of Ormskirk spread out his 
 hands. "You have, in effect, placed Marian in the mar 
 ket," he said, "and I offer to give Lord Humphrey Degge 
 the money with which to purchase her." 
 
 " Tis evident," the Earl considered, "that you are 
 demented !" 
 
 "Because I willingly part with money? But then I 
 have a great deal of money. I have money, and I have 
 power, and the King occasionally pats me upon the shoul 
 der, and men call me your Grace/ instead of my Lord/ 
 as they do you. So I ought to be very happy, ought I 
 not, Harry? Ah, yes, I ought to be entirely happy, be 
 cause I have had everything, with the unimportant ex 
 ception of the one thing I wanted." 
 
 But Lord Brudenel had drawn himself erect, stiffly. 
 "I am to understand, then, from this farrago, that on 
 account of the um a incident we have just witnessed 
 you decline to marry my daughter?" 
 
 "I would sooner cut off my right hand," said the Duke, 
 "for I am fonder of Marian than I am of any other living 
 creature." 
 
 "Oh, very well!" the Earl conceded, sulkily. "Um- 
 fraville wants her. He is only a marquis, of course, but 
 so far as money is concerned, I believe he is a thought 
 better off than you. I would have preferred you as a 
 son-in-law, you understand, but since you withdraw 
 why, then, let it be Umfraville." 
 
160 GALLANTRY 
 
 Now the Duke looked up into his face for some while. 
 "You would do that ! You would sell Marian to Umf ra- 
 ville 1 to a person who unites the continence of a 
 partridge with the graces of a Berkshire hog to that 
 lean whoremonger, to that disease-rotted goat! Because 
 he has the money! Why, Harry, what a cur you are!" 
 
 Lord Brudenel bowed. "My Lord Duke, you are to 
 day my guest. I apprehend you will presently be leaving 
 Halvergate, however, and as soon as that regrettable event 
 takes place, I shall see to it a friend wait upon you with 
 the length of my sword. Meanwhile I venture to re 
 serve the privilege of managing my family affairs at my 
 own discretion." 
 
 "I do not fight with hucksters," the Duke flung at him, 
 "and you are one. Oh, you peddler ! Can you not un 
 derstand that I am trying to buy your daughter s happi 
 ness?" 
 
 "I intend that my daughter shall make a suitable 
 match," replied the Earl, stubbornly, "and she shall. If 
 Marian is a sensible girl and, barring to-day, I have al 
 ways esteemed her such, she will find happiness in 
 obeying her father s mandates : otherwise " He waved 
 the improbable contingency aside. 
 
 "Sensible! Faith, can you not see, even now, that to 
 be sensible is not the highest wisdom? You and I are 
 sensible as the world go^es, and in God s name, what 
 good does it do us? Here we sit, two miserable and 
 empty-veined old men squabbling across a deal-table, 
 breaking up a friendship of thirty years. And yonder 
 Marian and this Humphrey Degge who are within a 
 
 1 "Whose entrance blushing Satan did deny 
 Lest hell be thought no better than a sty." 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 161 
 
 measurable distance of insanity, if their conversation be 
 the touchstone, yet tread the pinnacles of some seventh 
 heaven of happiness. April has brought them love, 
 Harry. Oh, I concede their love is folly! But it is all 
 folly, Harry Heleigh. Purses, titles, blue ribbons, and 
 the envy of our fellows are the toys which we struggle 
 for, we sensible men; and in the end we find them only 
 toys, and, gaining them, we gain only weariness. And 
 love, too*, is a toy ; but, gaining love, we gain, at least, a 
 temporary happiness. There is the difference, Harry 
 Heleigh." 
 
 "Oh, have done with your balderdash !" said Lord 
 Brudenel. He spoke irritably, for he knew his position 
 to be guaranteed by common-sense, and his slow wrath 
 was kindling at opposition. 
 
 His Grace of Ormskirk rose to his feet, all tension. In 
 the act his hand struck against the open despatch-box; 
 afterward, with a swift alteration of countenance, he 
 overturned this box and scattered the contents about the 
 table. For a moment he seemed to forget Lord Bru 
 denel; quite without warning Ormskirk flared into rage. 
 
 "Harry Heleigh, Harry Heleigh !" he cried, as he strode 
 across the terrace, and caught Lord Brudenel roughly by 
 the shoulder, "are you not content to go to your grave 
 without killing another woman? Oh, you dotard miser! 
 you haberdasher! haven t I offered you money, and 
 isn t money the only thing you are now capable of caring 
 for? Give the girl to Degge, you huckster!" 
 
 Lord Brudenel broke from the Duke s grasp. Bru 
 denel was asplutter with anger. "I will see you damned 
 first. You offer money, I fling the money in your fat 
 face. Look you, you have just insulted me, and now 
 
162 GALLANTRY 
 
 you offer money! Another insult. John Bulmer, I 
 would not accept an affront like this from an archangel. 
 You are my guest, but I am only flesh and blood. I 
 swear to you this is the most deliberate act of my life." 
 Lord Brudenel struck him full upon the cheek. 
 
 "Pardon," said the Duke of Ormskirk. He stood 
 rigid, his- arms held stiff at his sides, his hands clenched ; 
 the red mark showed plain against an ashy countenance. 
 "Pardon me for a moment." Once or twice he opened 
 and shut his eyes like an automaton. "And stop behav 
 ing so ridiculously. I cannot fight you. I have other 
 matters to attend to. We are wise, Harry, you and I. 
 We know that love sometimes does not endure; some 
 times it flares up at a girl s glance, quite suddenly, and 
 afterward smoulders out into indifference or even into 
 hatred. So, say we, let all sensible people marry for 
 money, for then in any event you get what you marry for, 
 a material benefit, a tangible good, which does not 
 vanish when the first squabble, or perhaps the first gray 
 hair, arrives. That is sensible; but women, Harry, are 
 not always sensible " 
 
 "Draw, you coward!" Lord Brudenel snarled at him. 
 The Earl had already lugged out his ineffectual dress 
 sword, and would have been, as he stood on guard, a 
 ludicrous figure had he not been rather terrible. His 
 rage shook him visibly, and his obstinate mouth twitched 
 and snapped like that of a beast cornered. All gray he 
 was, and the sun glistened on his gray tye-wig as he 
 waited. His eyes were coals. 
 
 But Ormskirk had regained composure. "You know- 
 that I am not a coward," the Duke said, equably. "I 
 have proven it many times. Besides, you overlook two 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 163 
 
 details. One is that I have no sword with me, I am 
 quite unarmed. The other detail is that only gentlemen 
 fight duels, and just now we are hucksters, you and I, 
 chaffering over Marian s happiness. So I return to my 
 bargaining. You will not sell* Marian s happiness to 
 me for money? Why, then remember, we are only 
 hucksters, you and I, I will purchase it by a dishonor 
 able action. I will show you a woman s letters, some 
 letters I was going to burn romantically before I mar 
 ried Instead, I wish you to read them." 
 
 He pushed the papers lying upon the table toward 
 Lord Brudenel. Afterward Ormskirk turned away and 
 stood looking over the ivy-covered balustrade into the 
 gardens below. All white and green and blue the vista 
 was, and of a monastic tranquillity, save for the plashing 
 of the fountain behind the yew-hedge. From the gardens 
 at his feet irresolute gusts brought tepid woodland odors. 
 He heard the rustling of papers, heard Lord Brudenel s 
 sword fall jangling to the ground. The Duke turned. 
 
 "And for twenty years I have been eating my heart out 
 with longing for her," the Earl said. "And and I 
 thought you were my friend, Jack." 
 
 "She was not your wife when I first knew her. But 
 John Buhner was a penniless nobody, so they gave her 
 to you, an earl s heir, those sensible parents of hers. I 
 never saw her again, though as you see, she wrote to 
 me sometimes. And her parents did the sensible thing; 
 but I think they killed her, Harry." 
 
 "Killed her?" Lord- Brudenel echoed, stupidly. Then 
 on a sudden it was singular to see the glare in his eyes 
 puffed out like a candle. "I killed her," he whispered; 
 "why, I killed Alison, I!" He began to laugh. "Now 
 
164 GALLANTRY 
 
 that is amusing, because she was the one thing in the 
 world I ever loved. I remember that she used to shudder 
 when I kissed her. I thought it was because she was 
 only a brown and thin and timid child, who would be 
 wiser in love s tricks by and by. Now I comprehend 
 twas because every kiss was torment to her, because 
 every time I touched her twas torment. So she died very 
 slowly, did Alison, and always I was at hand with my 
 kisses, my pet names, and my paddlings, killing her, you 
 observe, always urging her graveward. Yes, and yet 
 there is nothing in these letters to show how much she 
 must have loathed me !" he said, in a mild sort of wonder. 
 He appeared senile now, the shrunken and calamitous 
 shell of the man he had been within the moment. 
 
 The Duke of Ormskirk put an arm about him. "Old 
 friend, old friend !" said he. 
 
 "Why did you not tell me?" the Earl said. "I loved 
 you, Jack. I worshipped her. I would never willingly 
 have seen you two unhappy." 
 
 "Her parents would have done as you planned to do, 
 they would have given their daughter to the next richest 
 suitor. I was nobody then. So the wisdom of the aged 
 slew us, Harry, slew Alison utterly, and left me with a 
 living body, indeed, but with little more. I do not say 
 that body has not amused itself. Yet I too, loved her, 
 Harry Heleigh. And when I saw this new Alison for 
 Marian is her mother, face, heart, and soul, why, some 
 wraith of emotion stirred in me, some thrill, some not 
 quite forgotten pulse. It seemed Alison come back from 
 the grave. Love did not reawaken, for youth s fervor 
 was gone out of me, yet presently I fell a-dreaming over 
 my Madeira on long winter evenings, sedate and tran- 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 165 
 
 quil dreams of this new Alison flitting about Ingilby, 
 making the splendid, desolate place into a home. An old 
 man s fancies, Harry, fancies bred of my loneliness, for 
 I am lonely nowadays. But my dreams, I find, were not 
 sufficiently comprehensive; for they did not anticipate 
 April, and nature, and Lord Humphrey Degge. We 
 must yield to that triumvirate, we sensible old men. 
 Nay, we are wise as the world goes, but we have learned, 
 you and I, that to be sensible is not the highest wisdom. 
 Marian is her mother in soul, heart, and feature. Don t 
 let the old tragedy be repeated, Harry. Let her have this 
 Degge ! Let Marian have her chance of being happy, for 
 a year or two. . . ." 
 
 But Lord Brudenel had paid very little attention. "I 
 suppose so," he said, when the Duke had ended. "Oh, 
 I suppose so. Jack, she was always kind and patient and 
 gentle, you understand, but she used to shudder when I 
 kissed her," -he repeated, dully "shudder, Jack." He 
 sat staring at his sword lying there on the ground, as 
 though it fascinated him. 
 
 "Ah, but, old friend," the Duke cried, with his hand 
 upon Lord Brudeners shoulder, "forgive me! It was the 
 only way." 
 
 Lord Brudenel rose to his feet. "Oh, yes ! why, yes, I 
 forgive you, if that is any particular comfort to you. It 
 scarcely seems of any importance, though. The one 
 thing which really matters is that I loved her, and I killed 
 her. Oh, beyond doubt, I forgive you. But now that 
 you have made my whole past a hideous stench to me, 
 and have proven the love I was so proud of the one 
 quite clean, quite unselfish thing in my life, I thought it, 
 Jack, to have been only my lust vented on a defenceless 
 
166 GALLANTRY 
 
 woman, why, just now, I have not time to think of for 
 giveness. Yes, Marian may marry Degge if she cares to. 
 And I am sorry I took her mother away from you. I 
 would not have done it if I had known." 
 
 Brudenel started away drearily, but when he had gone 
 a little distance turned back. 
 
 "And the point of it is," he said, with a smile, "that I 
 shall go on living just as if nothing had happened, and 
 shall probably live for a long, long time. My body is so 
 confoundedly healthy. How the deuce did you have the 
 courage to go on living?" he demanded, enviously. "You 
 loved her and you lost her. I d have thought you would 
 have killed yourself long ago." 
 
 The Duke shrugged. "Yes, people do that in books. 
 In books they have such strong emotions " 
 
 Then Ormskirk paused for a heart-beat, looking down 
 into the gardens. Wonderfully virginal it all seemed to 
 Ormskirk, that small portion of a world upon the brink 
 of renaissance: a tessellation of clean colors, where the 
 gravelled walkways were snow beneath the sun, and were 
 in shadow transmuted to dim violet tints ; and for the rest, 
 green ranging from the sober foliage of yew and box 
 and ilex to the pale glow of young grass in the full sun 
 light; all green, save where the lake shone, a sapphire 
 green-girdled. Spring triumphed with a vaunting 
 pageant. And in the forest, in the air, even in the un- 
 plumbed sea-depths, woke the mating impulse, irre 
 sistible, borne as it might seem on the slow-rising tide of 
 grass that now rippled about the world. Everywhere they 
 were mating ; everywhere glances allured and mouth met 
 mouth, while John Buhner went alone without any mate 
 or intimacy with anyone. 
 
APRIL S MESSAGE 167 
 
 Everywhere people were having emotions which 
 Ormskirk envied. He had so few emotions nowadays. 
 Even all this posturing and talk about Alison Heleigh in 
 which he had just indulged began to savor somehow of 
 play-acting. He had loved Alison, of course, and that 
 which he had said was true enough in a way, but, after 
 all, he had over-colored it. There had been in his life so 
 many interesting matters, and so many other women too, 
 that the loss of Alison could not be said to have blighted 
 his existence quite satisfactorily. No, John Bulmer had 
 again been playing at the big emotions which he heard 
 about and coveted, just as at this very moment John 
 Bulmer was playing at being sophisticated and blase . . . 
 with only poor old Harry for audience. . . . 
 
 "A great deal of me did die," the Duke heard this John 
 Bulmer saying, "all, I suppose, except my carcass, 
 Harry. And it seemed hardly worth the trouble to 
 butcher that also." 
 
 "No," Lord Brudenel conceded, "I suppose not. I 
 wonder, d ye know, will anything ever again seem really 
 worth the trouble of doing it?" 
 
 The Duke of Ormskirk took his arm. "Fy, Harry, bid 
 the daws seek their food elsewhere, for a gentleman 
 may not wear his heart upon his sleeve. Empires crum 
 ble, and hearts break, and we are blessed or damned, as 
 Fate elects ; but through it all we find comfort in the re 
 flection that dinner is good, and sleep, too, is excellent. 
 As for the future eh, well, if it mean little to us, it 
 means a deal to Alison s daughter. Let us go to them, 
 Harry." 
 
VII 
 IN THE SECOND APRIL 
 
 As Played at Bellegarde, in the April of 1750 
 
 "This passion is in honest minds the strongest incentive 
 that can move the soul of man to laudable accomplish 
 ments. Is a man just? Let him fall in love and grow 
 generous. It immediately makes the good which is in 
 him shine forth in new excellencies, and the ill vanish 
 away without the pain of contrition, but with a sudden 
 amendment of heart." 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 DUKE OF ORMSKIRK. 
 
 Due DE PUYSANGE, a true Frenchman, a pert, railing 
 fribble, but at bottom a man of parts. 
 
 MARQUIS DE SOYECOURT, a brisk, conceited rake, and dis 
 tant cousin to de Puysange. 
 
 CAZAIO, captain of brigands. 
 
 DOM MICHEL FREGOSE, a lewd, rascally friar. 
 
 GUITON, steward to de Puysange. 
 
 PAWSEY, Ormskirk s man. 
 
 ACHON, a knave. 
 
 MICHAULT, another knave. 
 
 DUG HESSE DE PUYSANGE. 
 
 CLAIRE, sister to de Puysange, a woman of beauty and 
 resolution, of a literal humor. 
 
 ATTENDANTS, BRIGANDS, and DRAGOONS; and, in the 
 Proem, LORD HUMPHREY DEGGE and LADY MARIAN 
 HELEIGH. 
 
 SCENE 
 
 First at Dover, thence shifting to Bellegarde-en-Poictesme 
 and the adjacent country. 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 
 
 PROEM: More Properly an Apologue, and Treats of the 
 Fallibility of Soap 
 
 4* 
 
 THE Duke of Ormskirk left Halvergate on the fol 
 lowing day, after participation in two dialogues, 
 which I abridge. 
 
 Said the Duke to Lord Humphrey Degge: 
 "You have been favored, sir, vastly beyond your de 
 serts. I acquiesce, since Fate is proverbially a lady, and 
 to dissent were in consequence ungallant. Shortly I shall 
 find you more employment, at Dover, whither I am now 
 going to gull my old opponent and dear friend, Gaston de 
 Puysange, in the matter of this new compact between 
 France and England. I shall look for you at Dover, then, 
 in three days time." 
 
 "And in vain, my Lord Duke," said the other. 
 Now Ormskirk raised one eyebrow, after a fashion 
 that he had. 
 
 "Because I love Marian," said Lord Humphrey, "and 
 because I mean to be less unworthy of Marian than I 
 have been heretofore. So that I can no longer be your 
 spy. Besides, in nature I lack aptitude for the trade. 
 Eh, my Lord Duke, have you already forgotten how I 
 bungled the affair of Captain Audaine and his asso 
 ciates?" 
 
 "But that was a maiden effort. And as I find at 
 alas! the cost of decrepitude, the one thing life teaches 
 us is that many truisms are true. Practice makes per- 
 
 171 
 
 
172 GALLANTRY 
 
 feet is one of them. And faith, when you come to my 
 age, Lord Humphrey, you will not grumble at having to 
 soil your hands occasionally in the cause of common- 
 sense." 
 
 The younger man shook his head. "A week ago you 
 would have found me amenable enough to reason, since 
 I was then a sensible person, and to be of service to 
 his Grace of Ormskirk was very sensible, just as to 
 marry Miss Allonby, the young and beautiful heiress, 
 was then the course pre-eminently sensible. All the 
 while I loved Marian, you understand. But I clung to 
 common-sense. Desperately I clung to common-sense. 
 And yet " He flung out his hands. 
 
 "Yes, there is by ordinary some plaguy yet" the Duke 
 interpolated. 
 
 "There is," cried Lord Humphrey Degge, "the swift 
 and heart-grappling recollection of the woman you gave 
 up in the cause of common-sense, roused by some 
 melody she liked, or some shade of color she was wont 
 to wear, or by hearing from other lips some turn of 
 speech to which she was addicted. My Lord Duke, that 
 memory wakes on a sudden and clutches you by the 
 throat, and it chokes you. And one swears that common- 
 sense " 
 
 "One swears that common-sense may go to the devil," 
 said his Grace of Ormskirk, "whence I don t say it 
 didn t emanate! And one swears that, after all, there 
 is excellent stuff in you! Your idiotic conduct, sir, 
 makes me far happier than you know !" 
 
 After some ten paces he turned, with a smile. "In the 
 matter of soiling one s hands Personally I prefer them 
 clean, sir, and particularly in the case of Marian s hus- 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 173 
 
 band. Had it been I, he must have stuck to prosaic 
 soap; with you in the role there is a difference. Faith, 
 Lord Humphrey, there is a decided difference, and if you 
 be other than a monster of depravity you will henceforth, 
 I think, preserve your hands immaculate." 
 
 To Marian the Duke said a vast number of things, 
 prompted by a complaisant thrill over the fact that, in 
 view of the circumstances, his magnanimity must to the 
 unprejudiced appear profuse and his behavior tolerably 
 heroic. 
 
 "These are very absurd phrases," Marian considered, 
 "since you will never love anyone, I think however 
 much you may admire the color of her eyes, one-quarter 
 so earnestly as you will always marvel at John Bulmer. 
 Or perhaps you have only to wait a little, Jack, till in 
 her time and season the elect woman shall come to you, 
 just as she comes to all men, and then, for once in your 
 existence, you will be sincere." 
 
 "I go, provisionally, to seek this paragon at Dover," 
 said his Grace of Ormskirk, and he lifted her fingers 
 toward his smiling lips; "but I shall bear in mind, my 
 dear, even in Dover, that sincerity is a devilishly ex 
 pensive virtue." 
 
 It was on the thirteenth day of April that they signed 
 the Second Treaty of Dover, which not only confirmed 
 its predecessor of Aix-la-Chapelle, but in addition, with 
 the brevity of lightning, demolished the last Stuarts hope 
 of any further aid from France. And the French am 
 bassador subscribed the terms with a chuckle. 
 
174 GALLANTRY 
 
 "For on this occasion, Jean," he observed, as he pushed 
 the paper from him, "I think that honors are fairly even. 
 You obtain peace at home, and in India we obtain as 
 sistance for Dupleix ; good, the benefit is quite mutual ; 
 and accordingly, my friend, I must still owe you one re 
 quiting for that Bavarian business." 
 
 Ormskirk was silent until he had the churchwarden 
 which he had just ignited aglow. "That was the evening 
 I had you robbed and beaten by footpads, was it not? 
 Faith, Gaston, I think you should rather be obliged to 
 me, since it taught you never to carry important papers 
 in your pocket when you go about your affairs of gal 
 lantry." 
 
 "That beating with great sticks," the Due de Puysange 
 considered, "was the height of unnecessity." 
 
 And the Duke of Ormskirk shrugged. "A mere touch 
 of verisimilitude, Gaston; footpads invariably beat their 
 victims. Besides, you had attempted to murder me at 
 Aix, you may remember." 
 
 De Puysange was horrified. "My dear friend, when I 
 set Villaneuve upon you it was with express orders only 
 to run you through the shoulder. Figure to yourself : 
 that abominable St. Severin had bribed your chef to 
 feed you powdered glass in a ragout ! But I dissented. 
 Jean and I have been the dearest enemies these ten 
 years past/ I said. At every Court in Europe we have 
 lied to each other. If you kill him I shall beyond doubt 
 presently perish of ennui/ So, that France might es 
 cape a blow so crushing as the loss of my services, St. 
 Severin consented to disable you." 
 
 "Believe me, I appreciate your intervention," Ormskirk 
 stated, with his usual sleepy smile; before this he had 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 175 
 
 found amusement in the naivete of his friend s self -ap 
 probation. 
 
 "Not so! Rather you are a monument of ingratitude," 
 the other complained. "You conceive, Villaneuve was 
 in price exorbitant. I snap my fingers. For a comrade 
 so dear/ I remark, I gladly employ the most expensive 
 of assassins/ Yet before the face of such magnanimity 
 you grumble." The Due de Puysange spread out his 
 shapely hands. "I murder you! My adored Jean, I 
 had as lief make love to my wife." 
 
 Ormskirk struck his finger-tips upon the table. "Faith, 
 I knew there was something I intended to ask of you. 
 I want you to get me a wife." 
 
 "In fact," de Puysange observed, "warfare being now 
 at an end, it is only natural that you should resort 
 to matrimony. I can assure you it is an admirable sub 
 stitute. But who is the lucky Miss, my little villain?" 
 
 "Why, that is for you to settle," Ormskirk said. "I 
 had hoped you might know of some suitable person." 
 
 "Ma foi, my friend, if I were arbiter and any wife 
 would suit you, I would cordially desire you to take 
 mine, for when a woman so incessantly resembles an 
 angel in conduct, her husband inevitably desires to see 
 her one in reality." 
 
 "You misinterpret me, Gaston. This is not a jest. I 
 had always intended to marry as soon as I could spare 
 the time, and now that this treaty is disposed of, my 
 opportunity has beyond doubt arrived. I am practically 
 at leisure until the autumn. At latest, though, I must 
 marry by August, in order to get the honeymoon off my 
 hands before the convocation of Parliament. For there 
 will have to be a honeymoon, I suppose." 
 
176 GALLANTRY 
 
 "It is customary," de Puysange said. He appeared to 
 deliberate something entirely alien to this reply, however, 
 and now sat silent for a matter of four seconds, his coun 
 tenance profoundly grave. He was a hideous man, 1 with 
 black beetling eyebrows, an enormous nose, and an 
 under-lip excessively full ; his face had all the calculated 
 ill-proportion of a gargoyle, an ugliness so consummate 
 and merry that in ultimate effect it captivated. 
 . At last de Puysange began : "I think I follow you. It 
 is quite proper that you should marry. It is quite proper 
 that a man who has done so much for England should 
 leave descendants to perpetuate his name, and with per 
 haps some portion of his ability no, Jean, I do not 
 flatter, serve the England which is to his heart so dear. 
 As a Frenchman I cannot but deplore that our next gen 
 eration may have to face another Ormskirk; as your 
 friend who loves you I say that this marriage will ap 
 propriately round a successful and honorable and intelli 
 gent life. Eh, we are only men, you and I, and it is ad- 
 isable that all men should marry, since otherwise they 
 might be so happy in this colorful world that getting to 
 heaven would not particularly tempt them. Thus is 
 matrimony a bulwark of religion." 
 
 "You are growing scurrilous," Ormskirk complained, 
 "whereas I am in perfect earnest." 
 
 "I, too, speak to the foot of the letter, Jean, as you 
 will soon learn. I comprehend that you cannot with 
 agreeability marry an Englishwoman. You are too much 
 
 1 For a consideration of the vexed and delicate question whether 
 or no Gaston de Puysange was grandson to King Charles the 
 Second of England, the reader is referred to the third chapter 
 of La Vrilliere s De Puysange et son temps. The Duke s re 
 semblance in person to that monarch "was undeniable. 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 177 
 
 the personage. Possessing, as you notoriously possess, 
 your pick among the women of gentle degree for none 
 of them would her guardians nor her good taste permit to 
 refuse the great Duke of Ormskirk, any choice must 
 therefore be a too robustious affrontment to all the 
 others. If you select a Howard, the Skirlaws have pep 
 per in the nose ; if a Beaufort, you lose Umf raville s sup 
 port, and so on. Hey, I know, my dear Jean; your 
 affair with the Earl of Brudenel s daughter cost you 
 seven seats in Parliament, you may remember. How am 
 I aware of this? why, because I habitually have your 
 mail intercepted. You intercept mine, do you not? 
 Naturally; you would be a very gross and intolerable 
 scion of the pig if you did otherwise. Eh bien, let us get 
 on. You might, of course, play King Cophetua, but I 
 doubt if it would amuse you, since Penelophons are rare; 
 it follows in logic that your wife must come from abroad. 
 And whence? Without question, from France, the land 
 of adorable women. The thing is plainly demonstrated ; 
 and in France, my dear, I have to an eyelash the proper 
 person for you." 
 
 "Then we may consider the affair as settled," Ormskirk 
 replied, "and should you arrange to have the marriage 
 take place upon the first of August, if possible, a trifle 
 earlier, I would be trebly your debtor." 
 
 De Puysange retorted: "Beyond doubt I can adjust 
 these matters. And yet, my dear Jean, I must submit 
 that is is not quite the act of a gentleman to plunge into 
 matrimony without even inquiring as to the dowry of 
 your future bride." 
 
 "It is true," said Ormskirk, with a grimace; "I had 
 not thought of her portion. You must remember my at- 
 
178 GALLANTRY 
 
 tention is at present pre-empted by that idiotic Ferrers 
 business. How much am I to marry, then, Gaston?" 
 
 "I had in mind/ said the other, "my sister, the 
 Demoiselle Claire de Puysange, " 
 
 It was a day of courtesy when the minor graces were 
 paramount. Ormskirk rose and accorded de Puysange a 
 salutation fitted to an emperor. "I entreat your pardon, 
 sir, for any gaitcherie of which I may have been guilty, 
 and desire to extend to you my appreciation of the honor 
 you have done me." 
 
 "It is sufficient, monsieur," de Puysange replied. And 
 the two gravely bowed again. 
 
 Then the Frenchman resumed, in conversational tones : 
 "I have but one unmarried sister, already nineteen, 
 beautiful as an angel (in the eyes, at least, of fraternal 
 affection), and undoubtedly as headstrong as any devil 
 at present stoking the eternal fires below. You can con 
 ceive that the disposal of such a person is a delicate 
 matter. In Poictesme there is no suitable match, and 
 upon the other hand I grievously apprehend her pres 
 entation at our Court, where, as Arouet de Voltaire once 
 observed to me, the men are lured into matrimony by the 
 memories of their past sins, and the women by the im 
 munity it promises for future ones. In England, where 
 custom will permit a woman to be both handsome and 
 chaste, I estimate she w r ould be admirably ranged. Ac 
 cordingly, my dear Jean, behold a fact accomplished. 
 And now let us embrace, my brother !" 
 
 This was done. The next day they settled the matter 
 of dowry, jointure, the widow s portion, and so on, and 
 de Puysange returned to render his report at Marly. 
 The wedding had been fixed by the Frenchman for St. 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 179 
 
 Anne s day, and by Ormskirk, as an uncompromising 
 churchman, for the twenty-sixth of the following July. 
 
 II 
 
 That evening the Duke of Ormskirk sat alone in his 
 lodgings. His Grace was very splendid in black-and-gold, 
 wearing his two stars of the Garter and the Thistle, for 
 there was that night a ball at Lady Sandwich s, and 
 Royalty was to embellish it. In consequence, Ormskirk 
 meant to show his plump face there for a quarter of an 
 hour; and the rooms would be too hot (he peevishly re 
 flected), and the light would tire his eyes, and Lavens- 
 thrope would button-hole him again about that appoint 
 ment for Laventhrope s son, and the King would give 
 vent to some especially fat-witted jest, and Ormskirk 
 would apishly grin and applaud. And afterward he 
 would come home with a headache, and ghostly fiddles 
 would vex him all night long with their thin incessancy. 
 
 "Accordingly," the Duke decided, "I shall not stir a 
 step until eleven o clock. The King, in the ultimate, is 
 only a tipsy, ignorant old German debauchee, and I have 
 half a mind to tell him so. Meantime, he can wait." 
 
 The Duke sat down to consider this curious lassitude, 
 this indefinite vexation, which had possessed him. 
 
 "For I appear to have taken a sudden dislike to the 
 universe. It is probably my liver. 
 
 "In any event, I have come now to the end of my 
 resources. For some twenty-five years it has amused me 
 to make a great man of John Bulmer. Now that is done, 
 and, like the Moorish fellow in the play, my occupation s 
 gone/ I am at the very top of the ladder, and I find it 
 
180 GALLANTRY 
 
 the dreariest place in the world. There is nothing left 
 to scheme for, and, besides, I am tired. 
 
 "The tiniest nerve in my body, the innermost cell of 
 my brain, is tired to-night. 
 
 "I wonder if getting married will divert me? I doubt 
 it. Of course I ought to marry, bat then it must be 
 rather terrible to have a woman loitering around you for 
 the rest of your life. She will probably expect me to talk 
 to her ; she will probably come into my rooms and sit there 
 whenever the inclination prompts her, in a sentence, she 
 will probably worry me to death. Eh well ! that die is 
 cast! 
 
 " Beautiful as an angel, and headstrong as a devil. 
 And what s her name? Oh, yes, Claire. That is a very 
 silly name, and I suppose she is a vixenish little idiot. 
 However, the alliance is a sensible one. De Puysange 
 has had it in mind for some six months, I think, but 
 certainly I did not think he knew of my affair with 
 Marian. Well, but he affects omniscience, he delights 
 in every small chicane. He is rather droll. Yesterday 
 he knew from the start that I was leading up to a 
 proposal for his sister, and yet there we sat, two solemn 
 fools, and played our tedious comedy to a finish. Eh 
 bien! as he says, it is necessary to keep one s hand in. 
 
 " Beautiful as an angel, and headstrong as a devil 
 Alison was not headstrong." 
 
 Ormskirk rose suddenly and approached an open win 
 dow. It was a starless night, temperately cool, with no 
 air stirring. Below was a garden of some sort, and a flat 
 roof which would be that of the stables, and beyond, 
 abrupt as a painted scene, a black wall of houses stood 
 against a steel-colored, vacant sky, reaching precisely to 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 181 
 
 the middle of the vista. Only a solitary poplar, to the 
 rear of the garden, qualified this sombre monotony of 
 right angles. Ormskirk saw the world as an ugly me 
 chanical drawing, fashioned for utility, meticulously out 
 lined with a ruler. Yet there was a scent of growing 
 things to nudge the senses. 
 
 "No, Alison was different. And Alison has been dead 
 near twenty years. And God help me ! I no longer re 
 gret even Alison. I should have been more truthful in 
 talking with poor Harry Heleigh. But, as always, the 
 temptation to be picturesque was irresistible. Besides, 
 the truth is humiliating. 
 
 "The real tragedy of life is to learn that it is not really 
 tragic. To learn that the world is gross, that it lacks 
 nobility, that to considerate persons it must be in effect 
 quite unimportant, here are commonplaces, sweepings 
 from the tub of the immaturest cynic. But to learn that 
 you yourself were thoughtfully constructed in harmony 
 with the world you were to live in, that you yourself are 
 incapable of any great passion eh, this is an athletic 
 blow to human vanity. Well! I acknowledge it. My 
 love for Alison Pleydell was the one sincere thing in my 
 life. And it is dead. I do not think of her once a month. 
 I do not regret her except when I am tipsy or bored or 
 listening to music, and wish to fancy myself the pictur 
 esque victim of a flint-hearted world. Which is a roman 
 tic lie; I move like a man of card-board in a card-board 
 world. Certain faculties and tastes and mannerisms I 
 undoubtedly possess, but if I have any personality at all, 
 I am not aware of it; I am a mechanism that eats and 
 sleeps and clumsily perambulates a ball that spins around 
 a larger ball that revolves about another, and so on ad 
 
182 GALLANTRY 
 
 infinitum. Some day the mechanism will be broken. Or 
 it will slowly wear out, perhaps. And then it will go to 
 the dust-heap. And that will be the end of the great 
 Duke of Ormskirk. 
 
 "John Bulmer did not think so. It is true that John 
 Bulmer was a magnanimous fool, Upon the other 
 hand, John Bulmer would never have stared out of an 
 ugly window at an uglier landscape and have talked yet 
 uglier nonsense to it. He would have been off post-haste 
 after the young person who is beautiful as an angel and 
 headstrong as a devil. And afterward he would have 
 been very happy or else very miserable. I begin to think 
 that John Bulmer was more sensible than the great Duk- 
 of Ormskirk. I would I would that he were still alive." 
 
 His Grace slapped one palm against his thigh with 
 unwonted vigor. "Behold, what I am longing fr "! I 
 am longing for John Bulmer." 
 
 Presently he sounded the gong upon his desk. And 
 presently he said : "My adorable Pawsey, the great Duke 
 of Ormskirk is now going to pay his respects to George 
 Guelph, King of Britain, France, arid Ireland, defender 
 of the faith, Duke of Brunswick and Lunenburg, and 
 supreme head of the Anglican and Hibernian Church, 
 And to-morrow Mr. John Bulmer will set forth upon a 
 little journey into Poictesme. You will obligingly pack 
 a valise. No, I shall not require you, for John Bulmer 
 was entirely capable of dressing and shaving himself. 
 So kindly go to the devil, Pawsey, and stop staring at 
 me." 
 
 Later in the evening Pawsey, a thought mellowed by 
 the ale of Dover, deplored with tears the instability of a 
 nation whose pilots were addicted to tippling. 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 183 
 
 "Drunk as David s sow !" said Pawsey, "and im in the 
 hactual presence of is Sacred Majesty!" 
 
 Ill 
 
 Thus it came about that, five days later, arrived at 
 Bellegarde Mr. John Bulmer, kinsman and accredited 
 emissary of the great Duke of Ormskirk. He brought 
 with him and in due course delivered a casket of jewels 
 and a letter from the Duke to his betrothed. The dia 
 monds were magnificent, and the letter was a paragon of 
 polite ardors. 
 
 Mr. Bulmer found the chateau in charge of a distant 
 cousin to de Puysange, the Marquis de Soyecourt; with 
 whom were the Duchess, a gentle and beautiful lady, her 
 two children, and the Demoiselle Claire. The Duke him 
 self was still at Marly, with most of his people, but at 
 Bellegarde momentarily they looked for his return. 
 Meanwhile de Soyecourt, an exquisite and sociable and 
 immoral young gentleman of forty-one, was lonely, and 
 protested that any civilized company was, in the oafish 
 provinces, a charity of celestial pre-arrangement. He 
 would not hear of Mr. Buhner s leaving Bellegarde; and 
 after a little protestation the latter proved persuadable. 
 
 "Mr. Bulmer," the Duke s letter of introduction in 
 formed the Marquis, "is my kinsman and may be re 
 garded as discreet. The evanishment of his tiny patri 
 mony, spirited away some years ago by divers over- 
 friendly ladies, hath taught the man humility, and pro 
 cured for me the privilege of paying for his support : but 
 I find him more valuable than his cost. He is tolerably 
 honest, not too often tipsy, makes an excellent salad, 
 
184 GALLANTRY 
 
 and will convey a letter or hold a door with fidelity and 
 despatch. Employ his services, monsieur, if you have 
 need of them ; I place him at your command." 
 
 In fine, they at Bellegarde judged Mr. Bulmer to rank 
 somewhere between lackeyship and gentility, and treated 
 him in accordance. It was an age of parasitism, and 
 John Bulmer, if a parasite, was the Phormio of a very 
 great man: when his patron expressed a desire Mr. Bul 
 mer fulfilled it without boggling over inconvenient scru 
 ples, perhaps; and there was the worst that could with 
 equity be said of him. An impoverished gentleman must 
 live somehow, and, deuce take it! there must be rather 
 pretty pickings among the broken meats of an Ormskirk. 
 To this effect de Soyecourt moralized one evening as the 
 two sat over their wine. 
 
 John Bulmer candidly assented. "I live as best I 
 may," he said. "In a word I am his Highness dog at 
 Kew * But mark you, I do not complete the quotation, 
 monsieur." 
 
 "Which ends, as I remember it, I pray you, sir, whose 
 dog 1 are you? Well, Mr. Bulmer, each of us wards his 
 own kennel somewhere, whether it be in a king s court 
 or in a woman s heart, and it is necessary that he pay 
 the rent of it in such coin as the owner may demand. 
 Beggars cannot be choosers, Mr. Bulmer." The Marquis 
 went away moodily, and John Bulmer poured out another 
 glass. 
 
 "Were I Gaston you would not kennel here, my friend. 
 The Duchess has too many claims to be admired, for 
 undoubtedly people do go about unchained who can ad 
 mire a blonde, and always your eyes follow her. I 
 noticed it a week ago." 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 185 
 
 And during this week Mr. Bulmer had seen a deal of 
 Claire de Puysange, with results that you will presently 
 ascertain. It was natural she should desire to learn 
 something of the man she was so soon to marry, and of 
 whose personality she was so ignorant ; she had not even 
 seen a picture of him, by example. Was he handsome ? 
 
 John Bulmer believed him rather remarkably hand 
 some, when you considered how frequently his love- 
 affairs had left disastrous souvenirs : yes, for a man in 
 middle life so often patched up by quack doctors, Orms- 
 kirk looked wholesome enough, said Mr. Bulmer. He 
 may have had his occult purposes, this poor cousin, but 
 of Ormskirk he undoubtedly spoke with engaging candor. 
 Here was no parasite cringingly praising his patron to the 
 skies. The Duke s career was touched on, with its grimy 
 passages no whit extenuated: before Dettingen Cousin 
 Ormskirk had, it must be confessed, taken a bribe from 
 de Noailles, and in return had seen to it that the English 
 did not follow up their empty victory; and twas well 
 known Ormskirk got his dukedom through the Countess 
 of Yarmouth, to whom the King could deny nothing. 
 What were the Duke s relations with this liberal lady ? 
 a shrug rendered Mr. Bulmer s avowal of ignorance 
 tolerably explicit. Then, too, Mr. Bulmer readily con 
 ceded, the Duke s atrocities after Culloden were some 
 what over-notorious for denial : all the prisoners were 
 shot out-of-hand; seventy-two of them were driven into 
 an inn-yard and massacred en masse. Yes, there were 
 women among them, but not over a half-dozen children, 
 at most. Mademoiselle was not to class his noble patron 
 with Herod, understand, only a few brats of no impor 
 tance. 
 
186 GALLANTRY 
 
 In fine, he told her all the highly colored tales that envy 
 and malice and ignorance had been able to concoct con 
 cerning the great Duke. Many of them John Bulmer 
 knew to be false ; nevertheless, he had a large mythology 
 to choose from, he picked his instances with care, he nar 
 rated them with gusto and discretion, and in the end he 
 got his reward. 
 
 For the girl rose, flame-faced, and burlesqued a courtesy 
 in his direction. "Monsieur Bulmer, I make you my 
 compliments. You have very fully explained what man 
 ner of man is this to whom my brother has sold me." 
 
 "And wherefore do you accord me this sudden adula 
 tion ?" said John Bulmer. 
 
 "Because in France we have learned that lackeys are 
 always powerful. Le Bel is here omnipotent, Monsieur 
 Bulmer ; but he is lackey to a satyr only : and therefore, 
 I felicitate you, monsieur, who are lackey to a fiend." 
 
 John Bulmer looked rather grave. "Civility is an in 
 expensive wear, mademoiselle, but it becomes every 
 body." 
 
 "Lackey !" she flung over her shoulder, as she left him. 
 
 John Bulmer began to whistle an air then popular 
 across the Channel. Later his melody was stilled. 
 
 " Beautiful as an angel, and headstrong as a devil ! 
 said John Bulmer. "You have an eye, Gaston !" 
 
 IV 
 
 That evening came a letter from Gaston to de Soye- 
 court, which the latter read aloud at supper. Gossip of 
 the court it was for the most part, garrulous, and pep 
 pered with deductions of a caustic and diverting sort, but 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 187 
 
 containing no word of a return to Bellegarde, in this 
 vocal rendering. For in the reading one paragraph was 
 elided. 
 
 "I arrive," the Duke had written, " within three or at 
 most four days after this will be received. You are to 
 breathe not a syllable of my coming, dear Louis, for I 
 do not come alone. Achille Cazaio has intimidated 
 Poictesme long enough ; I consider it is not desirable that 
 a peer of France should be at the mercy of a chicken- 
 thief, particularly when Fortune whispers, as the lady 
 now does : 
 
 "Viens punir le coupable; 
 Les oracles, les dieux, tout nous est favorable. 
 
 "Understand, in fine, that Madame de Pompadour has 
 graciously obtained for me the loan of the dragoons of 
 Entrechat for an entire fortnight, so that I return not 
 in submission, but, like Csesar and Coriolanus and other 
 exiled captains of antiquity, at the head of a glorious 
 army. We will harry the Taunenfels, we will hang the 
 vile bandit more high than Haman of old, we will, in a 
 word, enjoy the supreme pleasure of the chase, enhanced 
 by the knowledge we pursue a note-worthy quarry. 
 Homicide is, after all, the most satisfying recreation life 
 affords us, since man alone knows how thoroughly man 
 deserves to be slaughtered. A tiger, now, has his de 
 ficiencies, perhaps, viewed as a roommate; yet a tiger is 
 at least acceptable to the eye, a vision very pleasantly 
 suggestive, we will say, of buttered toast; whereas, our 
 fellow-creatures, my dear Louis, " And in this strain 
 de Puysange continued, with intolerably scandalous ex 
 amples as parapets for his argument. 
 
188 GALLANTRY 
 
 That night de Soyecourt re-read this paragraph. "So 
 the Pompadour has kindly tendered him the loan of cer 
 tain dragoons? She is very fond of Gaston, is la petite 
 fitoiles, beyond doubt. And accordingly her dragoons 
 are to garrison Bellegarde for a whole fortnight. Good, 
 good!" said the Marquis; "I think that all goes 
 well." 
 
 He sat for a long while, smiling, preoccupied with his 
 imaginings, which were far adrift in the future. Louis 
 de Soyecourt was a subtle little man, freakish and amiable, 
 and, on a minute scale, handsome. He reminded people 
 of a dissipated elf; his excesses were notorious, yet al 
 ways he preserved the face & an ecclesiastic and the eyes 
 of an aging seraph ; and bodily there was as yet no trace 
 of the corpulence which marred his later years. 
 
 To-night he slept soundly. His conscience was always, 
 they say, to the very end of his long life, the conscience 
 of a child, vulnerable by physical punishment, but by 
 nothing else. 
 
 Next day John Bulmer rode through the Forest of 
 Acaire, and sang as he went. Yet he disapproved of the 
 country. 
 
 "For I am of the opinion," John Bulmer meditated, 
 "that France just now is too much like a flower-garden 
 situate upon the slope of a volcano. The eye is pleas 
 antly titillated, but the ear catches eloquent rumblings. 
 This is not a very healthy country, I think. These 
 shaggy-haired, dumb peasants trouble me. I had thought 
 France a nation of de Puysanges ; I find it rather a nation 
 

 IN THE SECOND APRIL 189 
 
 of beasts who are growing hungry. Presently they will 
 begin to feed, and I am not at all certain as to the urbanity 
 of their table manners." 
 
 However, it was no affair of his ; so he put the matter 
 out of mind, and as he rode through the forest, carolled 
 blithely. Trees were marshalled on each side with an 
 effect of colonnades; everywhere there was a sniff of 
 the cathedral, of a cheery cathedral all green and gold 
 and full-bodied browns, where the industrious motes 
 swam, like the fishes fairies angle for, in every long and 
 rigid shaft of sunlight, or rather (John Buhner de 
 cided), as though Time had just passed by with a broom, 
 intent to garnish the least nook of Acaire against Spring s 
 occupancy of it. Then there were tiny white butterflies, 
 frail as dream-stuff. There were anemones; and John 
 Bulmer sighed at their insolent perfection. Theirs was 
 a frank allure; in the solemn forest they alone of grow 
 ing things were wanton, for they coquetted with the wind, 
 and their pink was the pink of flesh. 
 
 He recollected that he was corpulent and forty-five. 
 "And yet, praise Heaven," said John Bulmer, "something 
 stirs in this sleepy skull of mine." 
 
 Sang John Bulmer : 
 
 "April wakes, and the gifts are good 
 Which April grants in this lonely wood 
 Mid the wistful sounds of a solitude, 
 Whose immemorial murmuring 
 Is the voice of Spring 
 And murmurs the burden of burgeoning. 
 
 "April wakes, and her heart is high, 
 For the Bassarids and the Fauns are nigh, 
 And prosperous leaves lisp busily 
 
190 GALLANTRY 
 
 Over fluttered brakes, whence the breezes bring 
 
 Vext twittering 
 
 To swell the burden of burgeoning. 
 
 "April wakes, and afield, astray, 
 She calls to whom at the end I say, 
 iHeart o my Heart, I am thine alway, 
 And I follow, follow her carolling, 
 For I hear her sing 
 Above the burden of burgeoning. 
 
 "April wakes ; it were good to live 
 (Yet April passes), though April give 
 No other gift for our pleasuring 
 Than the old, old burden of burgeoning" 
 
 He paused here. Not far ahead a woman s voice had 
 given a sudden scream, followed by continuous calls for 
 aid. 
 
 "Now, if I choose, will begin the first fytte of John 
 Bulmer s adventures," he meditated, leisurely. "The 
 woman is in some sort of trouble. If I go to her assist 
 ance I shall probably involve myself in a most unattrac 
 tive mess, and eventually be arrested by the constable, 
 if they have any constables in this operatic domain, the 
 which I doubt. I shall accordingly emulate the example 
 of the long-headed Levite, and sensibly pass by on the 
 other side. Halt! I there recognize the voice of the 
 Duke of Ormskirk. I came into this country to find 
 John Bulmer; and John Bulmer would most certainly 
 have spurred his gallant charger upon the craven who 
 is just now molesting yonder female. In consequence, 
 my gallant charger, we will at once proceed to confound 
 the dastardly villain." 
 
 He came presently into an open glade, which the keen 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 191 
 
 sunlight lit without obstruction. Obviously arranged, 
 was his first appraisal of the tableau there presented. A 
 woman in blue half -knelt, half -lay, upon the young grass, 
 while a man, bending over, fettered her hands behind her 
 back. A swarthy and exuberantly bearded fellow, at 
 tired in green-and-russet, stood beside them, displaying 
 magnificent teeth in exactly the grin which hieratic art 
 imputes to devils. Yet farther off a Dominican Friar 
 sat upon a stone and displayed rather more unctuous 
 amusement. Three horses and a mule diversified the 
 background. All in all, a thought larger than life, a 
 shade too obviously posed, a sign-painter s notion of a 
 heroic picture, was John Bulmer s verdict. From his 
 holster he drew a pistol. 
 
 The lesser rascal rose from the prostrate woman. 
 "Finished, my captain, " he began. Against the forest 
 verdure he made an excellent mark. John Bulmer shot 
 him neatly through the head. 
 
 Startled by the detonation, the Friar and the man in 
 green-and-russet wheeled about to find Mr. Bulmer, with 
 his most heroical bearing, negligently replacing the dis 
 charged pistol. The woman lay absolutely still, face 
 downward, in a clump of fern. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said John Bulmer, "I lament that your 
 sylvan diversions should be thus interrupted by the fact 
 that an elderly person like myself, quite old enough to 
 know better, has seen fit to adopt the pursuit of knight- 
 errantry. You need, not trouble yourselves about your 
 companion, for I have blown out most of the substance 
 nature intended him to think with. One of you, I regret 
 to observe, is rendered immune by the garb of an order 
 which I consider misguided, indeed, but with which I 
 
192 GALLANTRY 
 
 have no quarrel. With the other I beg leave to request 
 the honor of exchanging a few passes as the recumbent 
 lady s champion." 
 
 "Sacred blue!" remarked the bearded man; "you pre 
 sume to oppose, then, of all persons, me! You fool, I 
 am Achille Cazaio !" 
 
 "I deplore the circumstance that I am not overwhelmed 
 by the revelation," John Bulmer said, as he dismounted, 
 "and I entreat you to bear in mind, friend Achille, that 
 in Poictesme I am a stranger. And, unhappily, the names 
 of many estimable persons have not an international 
 celebrity." Thus speaking, he drew and placed himself 
 on guard. 
 
 With a shrug the Friar turned and reseated himself 
 upon the stone. He appeared a sensible man. But 
 Cazaio flashed out a long sword and hurled himself upon 
 John Bulmer. 
 
 Cazaio thus obtained a butcherly thrust in the 
 shoulder. "Friend Achille," said John Bulmer, "that 
 was tolerably severe for a first hit. Does it content you ?" 
 
 The hairy man raged. "Eh, my God !" Cazaio shrieked, 
 "do you mock me, you misbegotten one! Before you 
 can give me such another I shall have settled you out 
 right. Already hell gapes for you. Fool, I am Achille 
 Cazaio!" 
 
 "Yes, yes, you had mentioned that," said his opponent. 
 "And, in return, allow me to present Mr. John Bulmer, 
 thoroughly enjoying himself for the first time in a quar 
 ter of a century. Angelo taught me this thrust. Can 
 you parry it, friend Achille?" Mr. Bulmer cut open 
 the other s forehead. 
 
 "Well done!" Cazaio grunted. He attacked with re- 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 193 
 
 newed fury, but now the blood was streaming down his 
 face and into his eyes in such a manner that he was 
 momentarily compelled to carry his hand toward his 
 countenance in order to wipe away the heavy trickle. 
 John Bulmer lowered his point. 
 
 "Friend Achille, it is not reasonable I should continue 
 our engagement to its denouement, since by that boastful 
 parade of skill I have inadvertently turned you into a 
 blind man. Can you not stanch your wound sufficiently 
 to make possible a renewal of our exercise on somewhat 
 more equal terms?" 
 
 "Not now," the other replied, breathing heavily, "not 
 now, Monsieur Bulmaire. You have conquered, and the 
 woman is yours. Yet lend me my life for a little till I 
 may meet you more equitably. I will not fail you, I 
 swear it I, Achille Cazaio." 
 
 "Why, God bless my soul!" said John Bulmer, "do 
 you imagine that I am forming a collection of vagrant 
 females? Permit me, pray, to assist you to your horse. 
 And if you would so far honor me as to accept the tempo 
 rary loan of my handkerchief " 
 
 Solicitously Mr. Bulmer bound up his opponent s head, 
 and more lately aided him to mount one of the grazing 
 horses. Cazaio was moved to say : 
 
 "You are a gallant enemy, Monsieur Bulmaire. I shall 
 have the pleasure of cutting your throat on Thursday 
 next, if that date be convenient to you." 
 
 "Believe me," said John Bulmer, "I am always at your 
 disposal. Let this spot, then, be our rendezvous, since 
 I am wofully ignorant concerning your local geography. 
 And meantime, my friend, if I may be so bold, I would 
 suggest a little practice in parrying. You are of Bois- 
 
194 GALLANTRY 
 
 robert s school, I note, and in attack undeniably brilliant, 
 whereas your defence unvarying defect of Boisrobert s 
 followers! is lamentably weak." 
 
 "I perceive that monsieur is a connoisseur in these 
 matters," said Cazaio; "I am the more highly honored. 
 Till Thursday, then." And with an inclination of his 
 bandaged head and a furtive glance toward the insen 
 sate woman, he rode away singing. 
 
 Sang Achille Cazaio : 
 
 "But, oh, the world is wide, dear lass, 
 That I must wander through, 
 And many a wind and tide, dear lass, 
 Must flow twixt me and you, 
 Ere love that may not be denied 
 Shall bring me back to you, 
 Dear lass ! 
 Shall bring me back to you." 
 
 Thus singing, he disappeared; meantime John Bulmer 
 had turned toward the woman. The Dominican sat upon 
 the stone, placidly grinning. 
 
 "And now," said John Bulmer, "we revert to the origin 
 of all this tomfoolery, who, true to every instinct of her 
 sex, has caused as much trouble as lay within her power 
 and then fainted. A little water from the brook, if you 
 will be so good, Master Friar, Hey! why, you 
 damned rascal!" 
 
 As John Bulmer bent above the woman the Friar had 
 stabbed John Bulmer between the shoulders. The dag 
 ger broke like glass. 
 
 "Oh, the devil !" said the churchman ; "what sort of a 
 duellist is this who fights in a- shirt of Milanese armor !" 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 195 
 
 He stood for a moment, silent, in sincere horror. "I lack 
 words," he said, "Oh, vile coward ! I lack words to ar 
 raign this hideous revelation! There is a code of honor 
 that obtains all jover the world, and any duellist who de 
 scends to secret armor is, as you are perfectly aware, 
 guilty of supersticery. He is no fit associate for gentle 
 men, he is rather the appropriate companion of Korah, 
 Dathan, and Abiram in their fiery pit. Faugh, you sneak- 
 thief!" 
 
 John Bulmer was a thought abashed, and for an instant 
 showed it. Then, "Permit me," he equably replied, "to 
 point out that I did not come hither with any belligerent 
 intent. My undershirt, therefore, I was entitled to regard 
 as a purely natural advantage, as much so as would have 
 been a greater length of arm, which, you conceive, does 
 not obligate a gentleman to cut off his fingers before he 
 fights." 
 
 "I scent the casuist," said the Friar, shaking his head. 
 "Frankly, you had hoodwinked me : I was admiring you 
 as a second Palmerin ; and all the while you were letting 
 off those gasconades, adopting those heroic postures, and 
 exhibiting such romantic magnanimity, you were actually 
 as safe from poor Cazaio as though you had been in Crim 
 Tartary rather than Acaire !" 
 
 "But the pose was magnificent," John Bulmer pleaded, 
 "and I have a leaning that way when one loses nothing 
 by it. Besides, I consider secret armor to be no more 
 than a rational precaution in any country where the 
 clergy are addicted to casual assassination." 
 
 "It is human to err," the Friar replied, "and Cazaio 
 would have given me a thousand crowns for your head. 
 Believe me, the man is meditating some horrible mischief 
 
196 GALLANTRY 
 
 against you, for otherwise he would not have been so 
 damnably polite." 
 
 "The information is distressing," said John Bulmer; 
 and added, "This Cazaio appears to be a personage ?" 
 
 "I retort," said the Friar, "that your ignorance is even 
 more remarkable than my news. Achille Cazaio is the 
 bugbear of all Poictesme, he is as powerful in these parts 
 as ever old Manuel was." 
 
 "But I have never heard of this old Manuel either " 
 
 "In fact, your ignorance seems limitless. For any 
 child could tell you that Cazaio roosts in the Taunenfels 
 yonder, with some hundreds of brigands in his company. 
 Poictesme is, in effect, his pocket-book, from which he 
 takes whatever he has need of, and the Due cle Puysange, 
 our nominal lord, pays him an annual tribute to respect 
 Bellegarde." 
 
 "This appears to be an unusual country," quoth John 
 Bulmer; "where a brigand rules, and the forests are 
 infested by homicidal clergymen and harassed females. 
 Which reminds me that I have been guilty of an act of 
 ungallantry, and faith ! while you and I have been chat 
 ting, the lady, with a rare discretion, has peacefully come 
 back to her senses." 
 
 "She has regained nothing very valuable," said the 
 Friar, with a shrug. "Alone in Acaire!" But John 
 Bulmer had assisted the woman to her feet, and had given 
 a little cry at sight of her face, and now he stood quite 
 motionless, holding both her unfettered hands. 
 
 "You!" he said. And when speech returned to him, 
 after a lengthy interval, he spoke with odd irrelevance. 
 "Now I appear to understand why God created me." 
 
 He was puzzled. For there had come to him, un- 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 197 
 
 heralded and simply, a sense of something infinitely 
 greater than his mind could conceive; and analysis might 
 only pluck at it, impotently, as a wearied swimmer might 
 pluck at the sides of a well. Ormskirk and Ormskirk s 
 powers now somehow dwindled from the zone of serious 
 consideration, as did the radiant world, and even the 
 woman who stood before him ; trifles, these : and his con 
 tentment spurned the stars to know that, somehow, this 
 woman and he were but a part, an infinitesimal part, of 
 a scheme which was ineffably vast and perfect. . . . That 
 was the knowledge he sensed, unwordably, as he regarded 
 this woman now. 
 
 She was tall, just as tall as he. It was a blunt-witted 
 devil who whispered John Bulmer that, inch paralleling 
 inch, the woman is taller than the man and subtly renders 
 him absurd ; and that in a decade this woman would be 
 stout. There was no meaning now in any whispering 
 save hers. John Bulmer perceived, with a blurred thrill, 
 as if of memory, as if he were recollecting something 
 once familiar to him, a great while ago, that the girl 
 was tall and deep-bosomed, and that her hair was dark, 
 all crinkles, but (he somehow knew) very soft to the 
 touch. The full oval of her face had throughout the 
 rich tint of cream, so that he now understood the blowzi- 
 ness of pink cheeks; but her mouth was vivid. It was 
 a mouth not wholly deficient in attractions, he estimated. 
 Z. Her nose managed to be Roman without overdoing it. 
 And her eyes, candid and appraising, he found to be the 
 color that blue is in Paradise ; it was odd their lower lids 
 should be straight lines, so that when she laughed her 
 eyes were converted into right-angled triangles; and it 
 was still more odd that when you gazed into them your 
 
198 GALLANTRY 
 
 reach of vision should be extended until you saw without 
 effort for miles and miles. 
 
 And now for a longish while these eyes returned his 
 scrutiny, without any trace of embarrassment ; and what 
 ever may have been the thoughts of Mademoiselle de 
 Puysange, she gave them no expression. But presently 
 the girl glanced down toward the dead man. 
 
 "It was you who killed him ?" she said. "You !" 
 
 "I had that privilege," John Bulmer admitted. "And 
 on Thursday afternoon, God willing, I shall kill the 
 other." 
 
 "You are kind, Monsieur Bulmer. And I am not un 
 grateful. And for that which happened yesterday I en 
 treat your pardon." 
 
 "I can pardon you for calling me a lackey, mademoi 
 selle, only upon condition that you permit me to be your 
 lackey for the remainder of your jaunt. Poictesme ap 
 pears a somewhat too romantic country for unaccom 
 panied women to traverse in any comfort." 
 
 "My thought to a comma," the Dominican put in, 
 "unaccompanied ladies do not ordinarily drop from the 
 forest oaks like acorns. I said as much to Cazaio a half- 
 hour ago. Look you, we two and Michault, who for 
 merly incited this carcass and, from what I know of him, 
 is by this time occupying hell s hottest gridiron, were 
 riding peacefully toward Beauseant. Then this lady pops 
 out of nowhere, and Cazaio promptly expresses an ex 
 treme admiration for her person." 
 
 "The rest," John Bulmer said, "I can imagine. Oh, 
 believe me, I look forward to next Thursday !" 
 
 "But for you," the girl said, "I would now be the 
 prisoner of that devil upon the Taunenfels! Three to 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 199 
 
 one you fought, and you conquered ! I have misjudged 
 you, Monsieur Bulmer. I had thought you only an indo 
 lent old gentleman, not very brave, because " 
 
 Because otherwise I would not have been the devil s 
 lackey?" said John Bulmer. "Eh, mademoiselle, I have 
 been inspecting the world for more years than I care to 
 confess ; I have observed the king upon his throne, and 
 the caught thief upon his coffin in passage for the gallows : 
 and I suspect they both came thither through taking such 
 employment as chance offered. Meanwhile, we waste 
 daylight. You were journeying ?" 
 
 "To Perdigon," Claire answered. She drew nearer to 
 him and laid one hand upon his arm. "You are a gallant 
 man, Monsieur Bulmer. Surely you understand. Two 
 weeks ago my brother affianced me to the Duke of Onus- 
 kirk. Ormskirk! ah, I know he is your kinsman, 
 your patron, but you yourself could not deny that the 
 world reeks with his infamy. And my own brother, 
 monsieur, had betrothed me to this perjurer, to that lewd 
 rake, to that inhuman devil who slaughters defenceless 
 prisoners, men, women, and children alike. Why, I had 
 sooner marry the first beggar or the ugliest fiend in hell !" 
 the girl wailed, and she wrung her plump little hands in 
 desperation. 
 
 "Good, good !" he cried, in his soul. "It appears my 
 eloquence of yesterday was greater than I knew of!" 
 
 Claire resumed: "But you cannot argue with Gas- 
 ton he merely shrugs. So I decided to go over to 
 Perdigon and marry Gerard des Roches. He has wanted 
 to marry me for a long while, but Gaston said he was 
 too poor. And, O Monsieur Bulmer, Gerard is so very, 
 very stupid! but he was the only person available, and 
 
200 GALLANTRY 
 
 in any event," she concluded, with a sigh of resignation, 
 "he is preferable to that terrible Ormskirk." 
 
 John Bulmer gazed on her considerately. " Beautiful 
 as an angel, and headstrong as a devil/ " was his thought. 
 "You have an eye, Gaston !" Aloud John Bulmer said : 
 "Your remedy against your brother s tyranny, mademoi 
 selle, is quite masterly, though perhaps a trifle Draconic. 
 Yet if on his return he find you already married, he un 
 doubtedly cannot hand you over to this wicked Ormskirk. 
 Marry, therefore, by all means, but not with this stupid 
 Gerard." 
 
 "With whom, then?" she wondered. 
 
 "Fate has planned it," he laughed; "here are you and 
 I, and yonder is the clergyman whom Madam Destiny 
 has thoughtfully thrown in our way." 
 
 "Not you," she answered, gravely. "I am too deeply 
 in your debt, Monsieur Bulmer, to think of marrying 
 you." 
 
 "You refuse," he said, "because you have known for 
 some days past that I loved you. Yet it is really this 
 fact which gives me my claim to become your husband. 
 You have need of a man to do you this little service. I 
 know of at least one person whose happiness it would 
 be to die if thereby he might save you a toothache. This 
 man you cannot deny you have not the right to deny 
 this man his single opportunity of serving you." 
 
 "I like you very much," she faltered; and then, with 
 disheartening hastiness, "Of course, I like you very much ; 
 but I am 1 not in love with you." 
 
 He shook his head at her. "I would think the worse 
 of your intellect if you were. I adore you. Granted : 
 but that constitutes no cut-throat mortgage. It is merely 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 201 
 
 a state of mind which I have somehow blundered into, 
 and with which you have no concern. So I ask nothing of 
 you save to marry me. You may, if you like, look upon 
 me as insane; it is the view toward which I myself incline. 
 However, mine is a domesticated mania and vexes no 
 one save myself ; and even I derive no little amusement 
 from its manifestations. Eh, Monsieur Jourdain may 
 laugh at me for a puling lover !" cried John Bulmer ; "but, 
 heavens! if only he could see the unplumbed depths of 
 ludicrousness I discover in my own soul ! The mirth of 
 Atlas could not do it justice." 
 
 Claire meditated for a while, her eyes inscrutable and 
 yet not unkindly. "It shall be as you will," she said at 
 last. "Yes, certainly, I will marry you." 
 
 "O Mother of God !" said the Dominican, in profound 
 disgust; "I cannot marry two maniacs." But, in view 
 of John Bulmer s sword and pistol, he went through the 
 ceremony without further protest. 
 
 And something embryonic in John Bulmer seemed to 
 come, with the knave s benediction, into flowerage. He 
 saw, as if upon a sudden, how fine she was; all the 
 gracious and friendly youth of her: and he deliberated, 
 dizzily, the awe of her spirited and alert eyes; why, the 
 woman was afraid of him! That sunny and vivid glade 
 had become, to him, an island about which past happen 
 ings lapped like a fretted sea. "Dear me !" he reflected, 
 "but I am really in a very bad way indeed." 
 
 Now Mistress Bulmer gazed shyly at her husband. 
 "We will go back to Bellegarde," Claire began, "and in 
 form Louis de Soyecourt that I cannot marry the Duke 
 of Ormskirk, because I have already married you, Jean 
 Bulmer," 
 
202 GALLANTRY 
 
 "I would follow you," said John Bulmer, "though hell 
 yawned between us. I employ the particular expression 
 as customary in all these cases of romantic infatuation." 
 
 "Yet I," the Friar observed, "would, to the contrary, 
 advise removal from Poictesme as soon as may be pos 
 sible. For I warn you that if you return to Bellegarde, 
 Monsieur de Soyecourt will have you hanged." 
 
 "Reverend sir," John Bulmer replied, "do you actually 
 believe this consideration would be to me of any mo 
 ment?" 
 
 The Friar inspected his countenance. By and by the 
 Friar said : "I emphatically do not. And to think that 
 at the beginning of our acquaintanceship I took you for a 
 sensible person !" Afterward the Friar mounted his mule 
 and left them. 
 
 Then silently John Bulmer assisted his wife to the 
 back of one of the horses, and they turned eastward into 
 the Forest of Acaire. Mr. Bulmer s countenance was 
 politely interested, and he chatted pleasantly of the fore 
 noon s adventure. Claire told him something of her 
 earlier memories of Cazaio. So the two returned to 
 Bellegarde. Then Claire led the way toward the western 
 fagade, where her apartments were, and they came to a 
 postern-door, very narrow and with a grating. 
 
 "Help me down," the girl said. Immediately this was 
 done. Claire remained quite still. Her cheeks were 
 smouldering and her left hand was lying inert in John 
 Bulmer s broader palm. 
 
 "Wait here," she said, "and let me go in first. Some 
 one may be on watch. There is perhaps danger " 
 
 "My dear," said John Bulmer, "I perfectly comprehend 
 you are about to enter that postern, and close it in my 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 203 
 
 face, and afterward hold discourse with me through that 
 little wicket. I assent, because I love you so profoundly 
 that I am capable not merely of tearing the world asunder 
 like paper at your command, but even of leaving you if 
 you bid me do so." 
 
 "Your suspicions," she replied, "are prematurely 
 marital. I am trying to protect you, and you are the first 
 to accuse me of underhand dealing ! I will prove to you 
 how unjust are your notions." She entered the postern, 
 closed and bolted it, and appeared at the wicket. 
 
 "The Friar was intelligent," said Claire de Puysange, 
 "and beyond doubt the most sensible thing you can do is 
 to get out of Poictesme as soon as possible. You have 
 been serviceable to me, and for that I thank you : but 
 the master of Bellegarde has the right of the low, the 
 middle, and the high justice, and if my husband show his 
 face at Bellegarde he will infallibly be hanged. If you 
 claim me in England, Ormskirk will have you knifed in 
 some dark alleyway, just as, you tell me, he disposed of 
 Monsieur Traquair and Captain Dungelt. I am sorry, 
 because I like you, even though you are fat." 
 
 "You bid me leave you?" said John Buhner. He was 
 comfortably seated upon the turf. 
 
 "For your own good," said she, "I advise you to." 
 And she closed the wicket. 
 
 "The acceptance of advice," said John Bulmer, "is 
 luckily optional. I shall therefore go down into the 
 village, purchase a lute, have supper, and I shall be here 
 at sunrise to greet you with an aubade, according to the 
 ancient custom of Poictesme." 
 
 The wicket remained closed. 
 
204 GALLANTRY 
 
 VI 
 
 "I will go to Marly, inform Gaston of the entire 
 matter, and then my wife is mine. I have tricked her 
 neatly. 
 
 "I will do nothing of the sort. Gaston can give me 
 the woman s body only. I shall accordingly buy me a 
 lute." 
 
 VII 
 
 Achille Cazaio on the Taunenfels did not sleep that 
 night. . . . 
 
 The two essays * dealing with the man have scarcely 
 touched his capabilities. His exploits in and about Paris 
 and his Gascon doings, while important enough in the out 
 come, are but the gesticulations of a puppet: the his 
 torian s real concern is with the hands that manceuvered 
 above Cazaio; and whether or no Achille Cazaio organ 
 ized the riots in Toulouse and Guienne and Beam is a 
 question with which, at this late day, there can be little 
 profitable commerce. 
 
 One recommends this Cazaio rather to the spinners of 
 romance: with his morality a trifle buccaneerish on oc 
 casion once discreetly palliated, history affords few 
 heroes more instantly taking to the fancy. . . . One casts 
 a hankering eye toward this Cazaio s rumored parentage, 
 his hopeless and life-long adoration of Claire de Puy- 
 sange, his dealings with d Argenson and King Louis le 
 
 1 The twenty-first chapter of Du Maillot s Hommes Illustres; 
 and the fifth of d Avranches s Ancetres de la Revolution. Lowe 
 has an excellent digest of this data. 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 205 
 
 Bien-Aime, the obscure and mischievous imbroglios in 
 Spain, and finally his aggrandizement and his flame-lit 
 death, as du Maillot, say, records these happenings : and 
 one finds therein the outline of an impelling hero, and 
 laments that our traffic must be with a stolid and less 
 livelily tinted Bulmer. And with a sigh one passes on 
 toward the labor prearranged. . . . 
 
 To-night Cazaio s desires were astir, and consciousness 
 of his own power was tempting him. He had never 
 troubled Poictesme much : the Taunenfels were accessible 
 on that side, and so long as he confined his depredations 
 to the frontier, the Due de Puysange merely shrugged 
 and rendered his annual tribute ; it was not a great sum, 
 and the Duke preferred to pay it rather than forsake his 
 international squabbles to quash a purely parochial nui 
 sance like a bandit, who was, too, a kinsman. . . . 
 
 Meanwhile Cazaio had grown stronger than de Puy 
 sange knew. It was a time of disaffection: the more 
 violent here and there were beginning to assert that be 
 fore hanging a superfluous peasant or two de Puysange 
 ought to bore himself with inquiries concerning the ab 
 stract justice of the action. For everywhere the irra 
 tional lower classes were grumbling about the very 
 miseries and maltreatments that had efficiently disposed 
 of their fathers for centuries : they seemed not to respect 
 tradition : already they were posting placards in the Paris 
 boulevards, "Shave the King for a monk, hang the 
 Pompadour, and break Machault on the wheel," and al 
 ready a boy of twelve, one Joseph Guillotin, was running 
 about the streets of Saintes yonder. So the commoners 
 flocked to Cazaio in the Taunenfels until, little by little, 
 he had gathered an army about him. 
 
206 GALLANTRY 
 
 And at Bellegarde, de Soyecourt had only a handful of 
 men, Cazaio meditated to-night. And the woman was 
 there, the woman whose eyes were blue and incurious, 
 whose face was always scornful. 
 
 In history they liken Achille Cazaio to Simon de Mont- 
 fort, and the Gracchi, and other graspers at fruit as yet 
 unripe; or, if the perfervid word of d Avranches be ac 
 cepted, you may regard him as "le Saint-Jean de la Revo 
 lution glorieuse" But I think you may with more wis 
 dom regard him as a man of strong passions, any one 
 of which, for the time being, possessed him utterly. 
 
 Now he struck his palm upon the table. 
 
 "I have never seen a woman one-half so beautiful, 
 Dom Michel. I am more than ever in love with her." 
 
 "In that event," the Friar considered, "it is, of course, 
 unfortunate she should have a brand-new husband. 
 Husbands are often thought much of when they are a 
 novelty." 
 
 "You bungled matters, you fat, mouse-hearted rascal. 
 You could quite easily have killed him." 
 
 The Dominican spread out his hands, and afterward 
 reached for the bottle. "Milanese armor!" said Dom 
 Michel Fregose. 1 
 
 "Yet I am master of Poictesme," Cazaio thundered. 
 "I have ten men to de Soyecourt s one. Am I, then, 
 lightly to be thwarted ?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly you could take Bellegarde and the 
 woman along with the castle, if you decided they were 
 worth the price of a little killing. I think they are not 
 
 1 The same ecclesiastic who more lately dubbed himself, with 
 Marechal de Richelieu s encouragement, 1 Abbe de Trans, and 
 was discreditably involved in the forgeries of Madame de St. 
 Vincent. 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 207 
 
 worth it, I strongly advise you to have up a wench from 
 the village, to put out the light, and exercise your imagi 
 nation." 
 
 Cazaio shook his head. "No, Dom Michel, you 
 churchmen live too lewdly to understand the tyranny of 
 love." 
 
 " Besides, there is that trifling matter of your under 
 standing with de Puysange, and, besides, de Puysange 
 will be here in two days." 
 
 Cazaio snapped his fingers. "He will arrive after the 
 fair. " Cazaio uncorked the ink-bottle with an august 
 gesture. 
 
 "Write!" said Achille Cazaio. 
 
 VIII 
 
 As John Bulmer leisurely ascended from the village 
 the birds were waking. Whether day were at hand or 
 no was a matter of twittering debate overhead, but in 
 the west the stars were paling one by one, like candles 
 puffed out by the pretentious little wind that was bustling 
 about the turquoise cupola of heaven; and eastward 
 Bellegarde showed stark, as though scissored from a 
 painting, against a sky of gray-and-rose. Here was a 
 world of faint ambiguity. Here was the exquisite ten 
 sion of dawn, curiously a-chime with John Bulmer s 
 mood, for just now he found the universe too beautiful 
 to put any actual faith in its existence. He had strayed 
 into Faery somehow into Atlantis, or Avalon, or "a 
 wood near Athens," into a land of opalescence and 
 vapor and delicate color, that would vanish, bubble-like, 
 at the discreet tap of Pawsey fetching in his shaving- 
 
208 GALLANTRY 
 
 water ; meantime John Bulmer s memory snatched at each 
 loveliness, jealously, as a pug snatches bits of sugar. 
 
 Beneath her window he paused and shifted his lute 
 before him. Then he began to sing, exultant in the 
 unreality of everything and of himself in particular. 
 
 Sang John Bulmer. 
 
 "Speed forth, my song, the sun s ambassador, 
 Lest in the east night prove the conqueror, 
 The day be slain, and darkness triumph, for 
 The sun is single, but her eyes are twain. 
 
 "And now the sunlight and the night contest 
 A doubtful battle, and day bides at best 
 Doubtful, until she waken. Tis attest 
 The sun is single. 
 
 "But her eyes are twain, 
 And should the light of all the world delay, 
 And darkness prove victorious? Is it day 
 Now that the sun alone is risen? 
 
 "Nay, 
 
 The sun is single, but her eyes are twain, 
 Twain firmaments that mock with heavenlier hue 
 The heavens less lordly and less gracious blue, 
 And lit with sunlier sunlight through and through. 
 
 "The sun is single, but her eyes are twain, 
 And of fair things this side of Paradise 
 Fairest, of goodly things most goodly." 
 
 He paused here and smote a resonant and louder chord. 
 His voice ascended in dulcet supplication. 
 
 "Rise, 
 
 And succor the benighted world that cries, 
 The sun is single, but her eyes are twain!" 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 209 
 
 "Eh ? So it is you, is it?" Claire was peeping dis 
 dainfully from the window. Her throat was bare, and 
 her dusky hair was a shade dishevelled, and in her medi 
 tative eyes he caught the flicker of her tardiest dream just 
 as it vanished. 
 
 "It is I," John Bulmer confessed "come to awaken 
 you according to the ancient custom of Poictesme." 
 
 "I would much rather have had my sleep out," said she, 
 resentfully. "In perfect frankness, I find you and your 
 ancient customs a nuisance." 
 
 "You lack romance, my wife." 
 
 "Oh ?" She was a person of many cryptic exclama 
 tions, this bride of his. Presently she said : "Indeed, 
 Monsieur Bulmer, I entreat you to leave Poictesme. I 
 have informed Louis of everything, and he is rather 
 furious." 
 
 John Bulmer said, "Do you comprehend why I have 
 not already played the emigrant ?" 
 
 After a little pause, she answered, "Yes." 
 
 "And for the same reason I can never leave you so 
 long as this gross body is at my disposal. You are about 
 to tell me that if I remain here I shall probably be hanged 
 on account of what happened yesterday. There are 
 grounds for my considering this outcome unlikely, but if 
 I knew it to be inevitable if I had but one hour s start 
 of Jack Ketch, I swear to you I would not budge." 
 
 "I am heartily sorry," she replied, "since if I had known 
 you really cared for me so much I would never have 
 married you. Oh, it is impossible!" the girl laughed, 
 with a trace of worriment. "You had not laid eyes on me 
 until a week ago yesterday !" 
 
 "My dear," John Bulmer answered, "I am perhaps 
 
210 GALLANTRY 
 
 inadequately acquainted with the etiquette of such mat 
 ters, but I make bold to question if love is exclusively 
 regulated by clock-ticks. Observe!" he said, with a sort 
 of fury; "there is a mocking demon in me who twists 
 my tongue into a jest even when I am most serious. I 
 love you; and I dare not tell you so without a grin. 
 Then when you laugh at me I, too, can laugh, and the 
 whole transaction can be regarded as a parody. Oh, I am 
 indeed a coward !" 
 
 "You are nothing of the sort ! You proved that yester 
 day." 
 
 "Yesterday I shot an unsuspecting man, and afterward 
 fenced with another in a shirt of Milanese armor ! Yes, 
 I was astoundingly heroic yesterday, for the simple reason 
 that all the while I knew myself to be as safe as though 
 I were snug at home snoring under an eider-down quilt. 
 Yet, to do me justice, I am a shade less afraid of physical 
 danger than of ridicule." 
 
 She gave him a womanly answer. "You are not ridic 
 ulous, and to wear armor was very sensible of you." 
 
 "To the contrary, I am extremely ridiculous. For 
 observe : I am an elderly man, quite old enough to be 
 your father; I am fat No, that is kind of you, but I 
 am not of pleasing portliness, I am just unpardonably 
 fat ; and, I believe, I am not possessed of any fatal beauty 
 of feature such as would by ordinary impel young women 
 to pursue me with unsolicited affection : and being all this, 
 I presume to love you. To me, at least, that appears 
 ridiculous." 
 
 "Ah, do not laugh !" she said. "Do not laugh, Mon 
 sieur Buhner!" 
 
 But John Buhner persisted in that curious laughter. 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 211 
 
 "Because," he presently stated, "the whole affair is so 
 very diverting." 
 
 "Believe me," Claire began, "I am sorry that you care 
 so much. I do not understand. I am sorry, I am 
 not sorry," the girl said, in a new tone, and you saw her 
 transfigured; "I am glad! Do you comprehend? I am 
 glad !" And then she swiftly closed the window. 
 
 John Bulmer observed. "I am perhaps subject to hallu 
 cinations, for otherwise the fact had been previously noted 
 by geographers that heaven is immediately adjacent to 
 Poictesme." 
 
 IX 
 
 Presently the old flippancy came back to him, since 
 an ancient custom is not lightly broken ; and John Bulmer 
 smiled sleepily and shook his head. "Here am I on my 
 honeymoon, with my wife locked up in the chateau, and 
 with me locked out of it. My position savors too much 
 of George Dandin s to be quite acceptable. Let us set 
 about rectifying matters." 
 
 He came to the great gate of the castle and found 
 two sentries there. He thought this odd, but they recog 
 nized him as de Soyecourt s guest, and after a whispered 
 consultation admitted him. In the courtyard a lackey 
 took charge of Monsieur Bulmer, and he was conducted 
 into the presence of the Marquis de Soyecourt. "What 
 the devil !" thought John Bulmer, "is Bellegarde in a state 
 of siege?" 
 
 The little Marquis sat beside the Duchesse de Puy- 
 sange, to the rear of a long table with a crimson cover. 
 Their attitudes smacked vaguely of the judicial, and be 
 fore them stood, guarded by four attendants, a ragged 
 
212 GALLANTRY 
 
 and dissolute looking fellow whom the Marquis was lan 
 guidly considering. 
 
 "My dear man," de Soyecourt was saying as John 
 Bulmer came into the room, "when you brought this 
 extraordinary epistle to Bellegarde, you must have been 
 perfectly aware that thereby you were forfeiting your 
 life. Accordingly, I am compelled to deny your absurd 
 claims to the immunity of a herald, just as I would de 
 cline to receive a herald from the cockroaches." 
 
 "That is cowardly," the man said. "I come as the 
 representative of an honorable enemy who desires to 
 warn you before he strikes." 
 
 "You come as the representative of vermin," de Soye 
 court retorted, "and as such I receive you. You will 
 therefore, permit me to wish you a pleasant journey into 
 eternity. Why, hola, madame! here is that vagabond 
 guest of ours returned to observation!" The Marquis 
 rose and stepped forward, all abeam. "Mr. Bulmer, I 
 can assure you that I was never more delighted to see 
 anyone in my entire life." 
 
 "Pardon, monseigneur," one of the attendants here 
 put in, "but what shall we do with this Achon?" 
 
 The Marquis slightly turned his head, his hand still 
 grasping John Bulmer s. "Why, hang him, of course," 
 he said. "Did I forget to tell you ? But yes, take him 
 out, and have him confessed by Frere Joseph, and hang 
 him at once." The four men removed their prisoner. 
 
 "You find us in the act of dispensing justice," the 
 Marquis continued, "yet at Bellegarde we temper it with 
 mercy, so that I shall ask no indiscreet questions concern 
 ing your absence of last night." 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 213 
 
 "But I, monsieur," said John Bulmer, "I, too, have 
 come to demand justice." 
 
 "Tete-bleu, Mr. Bulmer! and what can I have the 
 joy of doing for you in that respect?" 
 
 "You can restore to me my wife." 
 
 And now de Soyecourt cast a smile toward the 
 Duchess, who appeared troubled. "Would you not have 
 known this was an Englishman," he queried, "by the 
 avowed desire for the society of his own wife? They 
 are a mad race. And indeed, Mr. Bulmer, I would very 
 gladly restore to you this hitherto unheard-of spouse if 
 but I were blest with her acquaintance. As it is " He 
 waved his hand. 
 
 "I married her only yesterday," said John Bulmer, "and 
 I have reason to believe that she is now within Belle- 
 garde." 
 
 He saw the eyes of de Soyecourt slowly narrow. 
 "Jacques," said the Marquis, "fetch me the pistol within 
 that cabinet." The Marquis resumed his seat to the rear 
 of the table, the weapon lying before him. "You may go 
 now, Jacques ; this gentleman and I are about to hold a 
 little private conversation." Then, when the door had 
 closed upon the lackey, de Soyecourt said, "Pray draw up 
 a chair within just ten feet of this table, monsieur, and 
 oblige me with your wife s maiden name." 
 
 "She was formerly known," John Bulmer answered, 
 "as Mademoiselle Claire de Puysange." 
 
 The Duchess spoke for the first time. "Oh, the poor 
 man ! Monsieur de Soyecourt, he is evidently insane." 
 
 "I do not know about that," the Marquis said, fret 
 fully, "but in any event I hope that no more people will 
 
214 GALLANTRY 
 
 come to Bellegarde upon missions which compel me to 
 have them hanged. First there was this Achon, and now 
 you, Mr. Buhner, come to annoy me. Listen, monsieur," 
 he went on, presently : "last evening Mademoiselle de 
 Puysange announced to the Duchess and me that her im 
 pending match with the Duke of Ormskirk must neces 
 sarily be broken off, as she was already married. She 
 had, she stated, encountered you and a clergyman yonder 
 the forest, where, on the spur of the moment, you two 
 had espoused each other ; and was quite unable to inform 
 us what had become of you after the ceremony. You 
 can conceive that, as a sensible man, I did not credit a 
 word of her story. But now, as I understand it, you 
 corroborate this moonstruck narrative ?" 
 
 John Bulmer bowed his head. "I have that honor, 
 monsieur." 
 
 De Soyecourt sounded the gong beside him. "In that 
 event, it is uncommonly convenient to have you in hand. 
 Your return to Bellegarde I regard as opportune, even 
 though I am compelled to attribute it to insanity; per 
 sonally, I disapprove of this match with Milor Ormskirk, 
 but as Gaston is bent upon it, you will understand that 
 in reason my only course is to make Claire a widow as 
 soon as may be possible." 
 
 "It is intended, then," John Bulmer queried, "that 1 
 am to follow Achon?" 
 
 "I can but trust," said the Marquis, politely, "that your 
 course of life has qualified you for a superior flight, since 
 Achon s departing, -I apprehend, is not unakin to a 
 descent." 
 
 "No !" the Duchess cried, suddenly ; "Monsieur de 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 215 
 
 Soyecourt, can you not see the man is out of his senses? 
 Let Claire be sent for. There is some mistake/ 
 
 De Soyecourt shrugged. "Yen know that I can refuse 
 you nothing. Jacques," he called, to the appearing 
 lackey, "request Mademoiselle de Puysange to honor us, 
 if it be convenient, with her presence. Nay, I pray you, 
 do not rise, Mr. Bulmer; I am of a nervous disposition, 
 startled by the least movement, and my finger, as you may 
 note, is immediately upon the* trigger." 
 
 So they sat thus, John Bulmer beginning to feel rather 
 foolish as time wore on, though actually it was not a long 
 while before Claire had appeared in the doorway and had 
 paused there. You saw a great wave of color flood her 
 countenance, then swiftly ebb. John Bulmer observed, 
 with a thrill, that she made no sound, but simply waited, 
 composed and alert, to find out how much de Soyecourt 
 knew before she spoke. 
 
 The little Marquis said, "Claire, this gentleman informs 
 us that you married him yesterday." 
 
 Tranquilly she inspected her claimant. "I did not see 
 Monsieur Bulmer at all yesterday, so far as I remember. 
 Why, surely, Louis, you did not take my nonsense of last 
 night in earnest?" she demanded, and gave a mellow 
 ripple of laughter. "Yes, you actually believed it; you 
 actually believed that I walked into the forest and mar 
 ried the first man I met there, and that this is he. As 
 it happens I did not; so please let Monsieur Bulmer go 
 at once, and put away that absurd pistol at once, Louis, 
 do you hear ?" 
 
 The Duchess shook her head. "She is lying, Monsieur 
 de Soyecourt, and undoubtedly this is the man." 
 
216 GALLANTRY 
 
 John Bulmer went to the girl and took her hand. "You 
 are trying to save me, I know. But need I warn you that 
 the reward of Ananias was never a synonym for felicity ?" 
 
 "Jean Bulmer! Jean Buhner!" the girl asked, and 
 her voice was tender ; "why did you return to Bellegarde, 
 Jean- Bulmer?" 
 
 "I came," he answered, "for the absurd reason that I 
 cannot live without you." 
 
 They stood thus for a while, both her hands clasped in 
 his. "I believe you," she said at last, "even though I 
 do not understand at all, Jean Bulmer." And then she 
 wheeled upon the Marquis. "Yes, yes!" Claire said ; "the 
 man is my husband. And I will not have him harmed. 
 Do you comprehend? you shall not touch him, because 
 you are not fit to touch him, Louis, and also because I 
 do not wish it." 
 
 De Soyecourt looked toward the Duchess as if for ad 
 vice. "It is a nuisance, but evidently she cannot marry 
 Milor Ormskirk so long as Mr. Bulmer is alive. I sup 
 pose it would be better to hang him out-of-hand ?" 
 
 "Monsieur de Puysange would prefer it, I imagine," 
 said the Duchess ; "nevertheless, it appears a great pity." 
 
 "In nature," the Marquis assented, "we deplore the loss 
 of Mr. Bulmer s company. Yet as matters stand " 
 
 "But they are in love with each other," the Duchess 
 pointed out, with a sorry little laugh. "Can you not see 
 that, my friend ?" 
 
 "Hein?" said the Marquis; "why, then, it is doubly 
 important that Mr. Bulmer be hanged as soon as pos 
 sible." He reached for the gong, but Claire had begun to 
 speak. 
 
 "I am not at all in love with him ! You are of a pro- 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 217 
 
 found imbecility, Helene. I think he is a detestable per 
 son, because he always looks at you as if he saw some 
 thing extremely ridiculous, but was too polite to notice it. 
 He is invariably making me suspect I have a smut on my 
 nose. But in spite of that, I consider him a very pleasant 
 old gentleman, and I will not have him hanged! * With 
 which ultimatum she stamped her foot. 
 
 "Yes, madame," said the Marquis, critically; "after all, 
 she is in love with him. That is unfortunate, is it not, for 
 Milor Ormskirk, and even for Achille Cazaio," he 
 added, with a shrug. 
 
 "I fail to see," a dignified young lady stated, "what 
 Cazaio, at least, has to do with your galimatias." 
 
 "Simply that I received this morning a letter demand 
 ing you be surrendered to Cazaio," de Soyecourt an 
 swered as he sounded the gong. "Otherwise, our amiable 
 friend of the Taunenfels announces he will attack Belle- 
 garde. I, of course, hanged his herald and despatched 
 messengers to Gaston, whom I look for to-morrow. If 
 Gaston indeed arrive to-morrow morning, Mr. Bulmer, I 
 shall relinquish you to him; in other circumstances will 
 be laid upon me the deplorable necessity of summoning a 
 Protestant minister from Manneville, and, after your 
 spiritual affairs are put in order, of hanging you sup 
 pose we say at noon?" 
 
 "The hour suits me," said John Bulmer, "as well as 
 another. But no better. And I warn you it will not suit 
 the Duke of Ormskirk, either, whose relative whose 
 very near relative " He posed for the astounding rev 
 elation. 
 
 But little de Soyecourt had drawn closer to him. "Mr. 
 Bulmer, I have somehow omitted to mention that two 
 
218 GALLANTRY 
 
 years ago I was at Aix-la-Chapelle, when the treaty was 
 in progress, and there saw your great kinsman. I cut no 
 particular figure at the convocation, and it is unlikely he 
 recalls my features ; but I remember his quite clearly." 
 
 "Indeed ?" said John Bulmer, courteously ; "it appears, 
 then, that monsieur is a physiognomist ?" 
 
 "You flatter me," the Marquis returned. "My skill in 
 that science enabled me to deduce only the veriest truisms 
 such as that the man who for fifteen years had beaten 
 France, had hoodwinked France, would in France be not 
 oversafe could we conceive him fool enough to hazard a 
 trip into this country." 
 
 "Especially alone?" said John Bulmer. 
 
 "Especially," the Marquis assented, "if he came alone. 
 But, ma f oi ! I am discourteous. You were about to 
 say?" 
 
 "That a comic subject declines to be set forth in tragic 
 verse," John Bulmer answered, "and afterward to in 
 quire the way to my dungeon." 
 
 But John Bulmer escaped a dungeon after all; for at 
 parting de Soyecourt graciously offered to accept Mr. 
 Bulmer s parole, which he gave willingly enough, and 
 thereby obtained the liberty of a tiny enclosed garden, 
 whence a stairway led to his new apartment on the second 
 floor of what had been known as the Constable s Tower, 
 since du Guesclin held it for six weeks against Sir Robert 
 Knollys. This was a part of the ancient fortress in 
 which, they say, Poictesme s most famous hero, Dom 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 219 
 
 Manuel, dwelt and performed such wonders, a long while 
 before Bellegarde was remodeled by Duke Florian. 
 
 The garden, gravel-pathed, was a trim place, all green 
 and white. It contained four poplars, and in the center 
 was a fountain, where three Nereids contended with a 
 brawny Triton for the possession of a turtle whose nos 
 trils spurted water. A circle of attendant turtles, half- 
 submerged, shot inferior jets from their gaping mouths. 
 It was an odd, and not unhandsome piece, 1 and John 
 Bulmer inspected it with appreciation, and then the gar 
 den, and having found all things satisfactory, sat down 
 and chuckled sleepily and waited. 
 
 "De Soyecourt has been aware of my identity through 
 out the entire week! Faith, then, I am a greater fool 
 than even I suspected, since this fop of the boulevards 
 has been able to trick me so long. He has some card up 
 his sleeve, too, has our good Marquis Eh, well ! Gas- 
 ton comes to-morrow, and thenceforward all is plain sail 
 ing. Meantime I conjecture that the poor captive will 
 presently have visitors." 
 
 He had dinner first, though, and at this meal gave an 
 excellent account of himself. Shortly afterward, as he 
 sat over his coffee, little de Soyecourt unlocked the high 
 and narrow gate which constituted the one entrance to 
 the garden, and sauntered forward, dapper and smiling. 
 
 "I entreat your pardon, Monsieur le Due," de Soye 
 court began, "that I have not visited you sooner. But 
 in unsettled times, you comprehend, the master of a be 
 leaguered fortress is. kept busy. Cazaio, I now learn, 
 
 1 Designed by Simon Guillain. This fountain is still to be seen 
 at Bellegarde, though the exuberancy of Revolutionary patriotism 
 has bereft the Triton of his head and of the lifted arm. 
 
220 GALLANTRY 
 
 means to attack to-morrow, and I have been fortifying 
 against him. However, I attach no particular impor 
 tance to the man s threats, as I have despatched three 
 couriers to Gaston, one of whom must in reason get to 
 him ; and in that event Gaston should arrive early in the 
 afternoon, accompanied by the dragoons of Entrechat. 
 And subsequently eh bien! if Cazaio has stirred up a 
 hornets -nest he has only himself to thank for it." The 
 Marquis snapped his fingers and hummed a merry air, 
 being to all appearance in excellent spirits. 
 
 "That is well/ said John Bulmer, "for, believe me, 
 I shall be unfeignedly glad to see Gaston once more." 
 
 "Decidedly," said the Marquis, sniffing, "they give my 
 prisoners much better coffee than they deign to afford me. 
 I shall make bold to* ask you for a cup of it, while we 
 converse sensibly." He sat down opposite John Bujmer. 
 "Oh, about Gaston," said the Marquis, as he added the 
 sugar "it is deplorable that you will not see Gaston 
 again, at least, not in this naughty world of ours." 
 
 "I am the more grieved," said John Bulmer, gravely, 
 "for I love the man." 
 
 "It is necessary, you conceive, that I hang you, at 
 latest, before twelve o clock to-morrow, since Gaston is a 
 little too fond of you to fall in with my plans. His pre 
 mature arrival would in effect admit the bull of equity 
 into the china-shop of my intentions. And day-dreams 
 are fragile stuff, Monsieur d Ormskirk! Indeed, I am 
 giving you this so brief reprieve only because I am un 
 willing to have upon my conscience the reproach of hang 
 ing without due preparation a man whom of all politicians 
 in the universe I most unfeignedly like and respect. The 
 Protestant minister has been sent for, and will, I sincerely 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 221 
 
 trust, be here at dawn. Otherwise really, I am deso 
 lated, Monsieur le Due, but you surely comprehend that 
 I cannot wait upon his leisure." 
 
 John Bulmer cracked a filbert. "So I am to die to 
 morrow? I do not presume to dictate, monsieur, but I 
 would appreciate some explanation of your motive/ 7 
 
 "Which I freely render," the Marquis replied. "When 
 I recognized you a week ago as I did at first glance, I 
 was astounded. That you, the man in all the world most 
 cordially hated by Frenchmen, should venture into France 
 quite unattended was a conception to confound belief. 
 Still, here you were, and I comprehended that such an op 
 portunity would not rap twice upon the door. So I des 
 patched a letter post-haste to Madame de Pompadour at 
 Marly" 
 
 "I begin to comprehend," John Bulmer said. "Old 
 Tournehem s daughter 1 hates me as she hates no other 
 man alive. Frankly, monsieur, the little strumpet has 
 some cause to, may I trouble you for the nut-crackers ? 
 a thousand thanks, since I have outwitted her more 
 than once, both in diplomacy and on the battle-field. 
 With me out of the way, I comprehend that France might 
 attempt to renew the war, and our late treaty would be so 
 much wasted paper. Yes, I comprehend that the woman 
 would give a deal for me But what the devil ! France 
 has no allies. She dare not provoke England just at 
 present ; she has no allies, monsieur, for I can assure you 
 that Prussia is out of the game. Then what is the woman 
 driving at?" 
 
 1 Mr. Bulmer here refers to a venerable scandal. The Pompa 
 dour was, in the eyes of the law at least, the daughter of Frangois 
 Poisson. 
 
222 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Far be it from me," said the Marquis, with becoming 
 modesty, "to meddle with affairs of state. Nevertheless, 
 madame is willing to purchase you at any price." 
 
 John Buhner slapped his thigh. "Kaunitz! behold 
 the key. Eh, eh, I have it now ; not long ago the Empress 
 despatched a special ambassador to Versailles, one An 
 ton Wenzel Kaunitz, a man I never heard of. Why, this 
 Moravian count is a genius of the first water. He will 
 combine France and Austria, implacable enemies since 
 the Great Cardinal s time. Ah, I have it now, monsieur, 
 Frederick of Prussia has published verses against the 
 Pompadour which she can never pardon eh, against the 
 Czaritza, too ! Why, what a thing it is to be a poet ! now 
 Russia will join the league. And Sweden, of course, be 
 cause she wants Pomerania, which King Frederick claims. 
 Monsieur de Soyecourt, I protest it will be one of the 
 prettiest messes ever stirred up in history ! And to think 
 that I am 1 to miss it all !" 
 
 "I regret," de Soyecourt said, "to deny you the pleasure 
 of participation. In sober verity I regret it. But un 
 luckily, Monsieur d Ormskirk, your dissolution is the sole 
 security of my happiness; and in effect" he shrugged, 
 "you comprehend my unfortunate position." 
 
 "One of the prettiest messes ever stirred up in all his 
 tory!" John Buhner lamented; "and I to miss it! The 
 policy of centuries shrugged aside, and the map of the 
 world made over as lightly as if it were one of last year s 
 gowns! Decidedly I shall never again cast reflections 
 upon the woman in politics, for this is superb. W T hy, this 
 coup is worthy of me ! And what is Petticoat the Second 
 to give you, pray, for making all this possible?" 
 
 "She will give me," the Marquis retorted, "according 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 223 
 
 to advices received from her yesterday, a lettre-de-cachet 
 for Gaston de Puysange. Gaston is a man of ability, but 
 he is also a man of unbridled tongue, He has expressed 
 his opinion concerning the Pompadour, to cite an instance, 
 as freely as ever did the Comte de Matirepas. You know 
 what happened to de Maurepas. Ah, yes, Gaston is un 
 doubtedly a peer of France, but the Pompadour is queen 
 of that kingdom. And in consequence on the day that 
 Madame de Pompadour learns of your death, Gaston 
 goes to the Bastile." 
 
 "Naturally," John Bulmer assented, "since imprison 
 ment in the Bastile is by ordinary the reward of common- 
 sense when manifested by a Frenchman. What the devil, 
 monsieur ! The Duchess uncle, Marechal de Richelieu, 
 has been there four times, and Gaston himself, if I am 
 not mistaken, has sojourned there twice. And neither is 
 one whit the worse for it." 
 
 The Marquis sipped his coffee. "The Bastile is not a 
 very healthy place. Besides, I have a friend there, a 
 gaoler. He was formerly a chemist." 
 
 John Bulmer elevated the right eyebrow. "Poison?" 
 
 "Dieu m en garde!" The Marquis was appalled. 
 "Nay, monsieur, merely an unforeseeable attack of heart- 
 disease." 
 
 "Ah! ah!" said John Bulmer, very slowly. He pres 
 ently resumed: "Afterward the Duchesse de Puysange 
 will be a widow. And already she is fond of you; but 
 unfortunately the Duchess with every possible defer 
 ence, is a trifle prudish. I see it all now, quite plainly ; 
 and out of pure friendliness, I warn you that in my 
 opinion the Duchess is hopelessly in love with her hus 
 band." 
 
224 GALLANTRY 
 
 "We should suspect no well bred lady of provincial 
 ism," returned the Marquis, "and so I shall take my 
 chance. Believe me, Monsieur le Due, I profoundly re 
 gret that you and Gaston must be sacrificed in order to 
 afford me this same chance." 
 
 But John Buhner was chuckling. "My faith! he said, 
 and softly chafed his hands together, "how sincerely you 
 will be horrified when your impetuous error is discovered 
 just too late ! You were merely endeavoring to serve 
 your beloved Gaston and the Duke of Ormskirk when 
 you hanged the rascal who had impudently stolen the 
 woman intended to cement their friendship ! The Duke 
 fell a victim to his own folly, and you acted precipitately, 
 perhaps, but out of pure zeal. You will probably weep. 
 Meanwhile your lettre-de-cachet is on the road, and pres 
 ently Gaston, too, is trapped and murdered. You weep 
 yet more tears oh, vociferous tears! and the Duchess 
 succumbs to you because you were so devotedly attached 
 to her former husband. And England will sit snug while 
 France reconquers Europe. Monsieur, I make you my 
 compliments on one of the tidiest plots ever brooded 
 over." 
 
 "It rejoices me," the Marquis returned, "that a con 
 spirator of many years standing should commend my 
 maiden effort." He rose. "And now, Monsieur d Orms- 
 kirk," he continued, with extended hand, "matters being 
 thus amicably adjusted, shall we say adieu?" 
 
 John Bulmer considered. "Well, no!" said he, at 
 last; "I commend your cleverness, Monsieur de Soye- 
 court, but as concerns your hand I must confess to a dis 
 taste." 
 
 The Marquis smiled. "Because at the bottom of your 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 225 
 
 heart you despise me/ he said. "Ah, believe me, mon 
 sieur, your contempt for de Soyecourt is less great than 
 mine. And yet I have a weakness for him, a weakness 
 which induces me to indulge all his desires." 
 He bowed with ceremony and left the garden. 
 
 XI 
 
 John Bulmer sat down to consider more at leisure 
 these revelations. He foreread like a placard Jeanne 
 d litoiles magnificent scheme : it would convulse all 
 Europe. England would remain supine, because Henry 
 Pelham could hardly hold the ministry together, even 
 now ; Newcastle was a fool ; and Ormskirk would be dead. 
 He would barter his soul for one hour of liberty, he 
 thought. A riot, now, ay, a riot in Paris, a blow from 
 within, would temporarily stupefy French enterprise and 
 gain England time for preparation. And a riot could be 
 arranged so easily! Meanwhile he was a prisoner, Pel- 
 ham s hands were tied, and Newcastle was a fool, and the 
 Pompadour was disastrously remote from being a fool. 
 
 "It is possible to announce that I am the Duke of 
 Ormskirk and to what end? Faith, I had as well pro 
 claim myself the Pope of Rome or the Cazique of 
 Mexico: the jackanapes will effect to regard my confes 
 sion as the device of a desperate man and will hang me 
 just the same ; and his infernal comedy will go on without 
 a hitch. Nay, I am fairly trapped, and Monsieur de Soye 
 court holds the winning hand Now that I think of it 
 he even has, in Mr. Bulmer s letter of introduction, my 
 formally signed statement that I am not Ormskirk. It 
 was tactful of the small rascal not to allude to that crown- 
 
226 GALLANTRY 
 
 ing piece of stupidity: I appreciate his forbearance. 
 But even so, to be outwitted and hanged by a smirking 
 Hop-o -my-thumb ! 
 
 "Oh, this is very annoying!" said John Bulmer, in his 
 impotence. 
 
 He sat down once more, sulkily, like an overfed cat, 
 and began to read with desperate attention : " Here may 
 men understand that be of worship, that he was never 
 formed that at every time might stand, but sometimes 
 he was put to the worse by evil fortune. And at some 
 times the worse knight putteth the better knight into 
 rebuke. Behold a niggardly salve rather than a pana 
 cea." He turned several pages. " And then said Sir 
 Tristram to Sir Lamorake, "I require you if ye happen 
 to meet with Sir Palomides * " Startled, John Bulmer 
 glanced about the garden. 
 
 It turned on a sudden into the primal garden of Para 
 dise. "I came," she loftily explained, "because I con 
 sidered it my duty to apologize in person for leading you 
 into great danger. Our scouts tell us that already 
 Cazaio is marshalling his men upon the Taunenfels." 
 
 "And yet," John Bulmer said, as he arose, and put 
 away his book, "Bellegarde is a strong place. And our 
 good Marquis, whatever else he may be, is neither a fool 
 nor a coward." 
 
 Claire shrugged. "Cazaio has ten men to our one. 
 Yet perhaps we can hold out till Gaston comes with his 
 dragoons. And then well, I have some influence with 
 Gaston. He will not deny me, ah, surely he will not 
 deny me if I go down on my knees to him and wear my 
 very prettiest gown. Nay, at bottom Gaston is kind, 
 my friend, and he will spare you." 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 227 
 
 "To be your husband?" said John Buhner. 
 
 Twice she faltered "No." And then she cried, with a 
 sudden flare of irritation: "I do not love you! I can 
 not help that. Oh, you you unutterable bully ! >r 
 
 Gravely he shook his head at her. 
 
 "But indeed you are a bully. You are trying to bully 
 me into caring for you, and you know it. What else 
 moved you to return to Bellegarde, and to sit here, a 
 doomed man, tranquilly reading? Yes, but you were, I 
 happened to see you, through the key-hole in the gate. 
 And why else should you be doing that unless you were 
 trying to bully me into admiring you ?" 
 
 "Because I adore you," said John Bulmer, taking affairs 
 in order; "and because in this noble and joyous history 
 of the great conqueror and excellent monarch, King 
 Arthur, I find much diverting matter ; and because, to be 
 quite frank, Claire, I consider an existence without you 
 neither alluring nor possible." 
 
 She had noticeably pinkened. "Oh, monsieur," the 
 girl cried, "you are laughing because you are afraid that 
 I will laugh at what you are saying to me. Believe me, 
 I have no desire to laugh. It frightens me, rather. I 
 had thought that nowadays no man could behave with a 
 foolishness so divine. I had thought all such extrava 
 gancy perished with the Launcelot and Palomides of your 
 book. *And I had thought that in any event, you had 
 no earthly right to call me Claire." 
 
 "Superficially, the reproach is just," he assented, "but 
 what was the name your Palomides cried in battle, pray ? 
 Was it not Ysoude! when his searching sword had at last 
 found the joints of his adversary s armor, or when the 
 foe s helmet spouted blood? Ysoude! when the line of 
 
228 GALLANTRY 
 
 adverse spears wavered and broke, and the Saracen was 
 victor? Was it not Ysoude! he murmured riding over 
 alien hill and valley in pursuit of the Questing Beast? 
 the glatisant beast 5 ? Assuredly, he cried Ysoude! and 
 meantime La Beale Ysoude sits snug in Cornwall with 
 Tristram, who dons his armor once in a while to roll 
 Palomides in the sand coram populo. Still the name was 
 sweet, and I protest the Saracen had a perfect right to 
 mention it whenever he felt so inclined." 
 
 "You jest at everything," she lamented "which is 
 one of the many traits that I dislike in you." 
 
 "Knowing your heart to be very tender," he submitted, 
 "I am endeavoring to present as jovial and callous an 
 appearance as may be possible to you, whom I love as 
 Palomides loved Ysoude. Otherwise, you might be 
 cruelly upset by your compassion and sympathy. Yet 
 stay; is there not another similitude? Assuredly, for 
 you love me much as Ysoude loved Palomides. What 
 the deuce is all this lamentation to you? You do not 
 value it the beard of an onion, while of course grieving 
 that your friendship should have been so utterly miscon 
 strued, and wrongly interpreted, and trusting that noth 
 ing you have said or done has misled me Oh, but I 
 know you women!" 
 
 "Indeed, I sometimes wonder," she reflected, "what 
 sort of women you have been friends with hitherto? 
 They must have been very patient of nonsense." 
 
 "Ah, do you think so? At all events, you interrupt 
 my peroration. For we have fought, you and I, a battle 
 which is over, so far as I am concerned. And the other 
 side has won. Well! Pompey was reckoned a very 
 pretty fellow in his day, but he took to his heels at 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 229 
 
 Pharsalia, for all that ; and Hannibal, I have heard, did 
 not have matters entirely his own way at Zama. Good 
 men have been beaten before this. So, without stopping 
 to cry over spilt milk, heyho!" he interpolated, with a 
 grimace, "it was uncommonly sweet milk, though, let s 
 back to our tents and reckon up our wounds." 
 
 "I am decidedly of the opinion," she said, "that for 
 all your talk you will find your heart unscratched." 
 Irony bewildered Claire, though she invariably recognized 
 it, and gave it a polite smile. 
 
 John Bulmer said: "Faith, I do not intend to flatter 
 your vanity by going into a decline on the spot. For in 
 perfect frankness, I find no mortal wounds anywhere. 
 No, we have it on the best authority that, while many men 
 have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, 
 it was never for love. I am inclined to agree with Rosa 
 lind : an aneurism may be fatal, but a broken heart kills 
 nobody. Lovers have died in divers manners since the 
 antique world was made, but not the most luckless of 
 them was slain by love. Even Palomides, as my book 
 informs me, went abroad with Launcelot and probably 
 died an old man here in France, peaceably, in his bed, 
 with the family physician in attendance, and every other 
 circumstance becoming to a genteel demise. And I dare 
 assert that long before this he had learned to chuckle over 
 his youthful follies, and had protested to his wife that 
 La Beale Ysoude squinted, or was freckled, or the like ; 
 and had insisted, laughingly, that the best of us must sow 
 our wild oats. And at the last it was his wife who mixed 
 his gruel and smoothed his pillow and sat up with him at 
 night; so that if he died thinking of Madame Palomides 
 rather than of La Beale Ysoude, who shall blame him? 
 
230 GALLANTRY 
 
 Not I, for one," said John Bulmer, stoutly; "if it was 
 not heroic, it was at least respectable, and, above all, 
 natural ; and I expect some day to gasp out a similar vale 
 dictory. No, not to-morrow at noon, I think: I shall 
 probably get out of this, somehow. And when, in any 
 event, I set about the process of dying, I may be thinking 
 of you, O fair lost lady ! and again I may not be think 
 ing of you. Who can say? A fly, for instance, may 
 have lighted upon my nose and his tickling may have dis 
 tracted my ultimate thoughts. Meanwhile, I love you 
 consumedly, and you do not care a snap of your fingers 
 forme." 
 
 "I I am sorry," she said, inadequately. 
 
 "You are the more gracious." And his face sank down 
 into his hands, and Claire was forgotten, for he was re 
 membering Alison Pleydell and that ancient bankruptcy 
 of his heart in youth, and this preposterous old John 
 Bulmer (he reflected) was simply revelling in pity for 
 himself. 
 
 A hand, feather-soft, fell upon his shoulder. "And 
 who was your Ysoude, Jean Bulmer ?" 
 
 "A woman who died twenty years ago, a woman dead 
 before you were born, my dear." 
 
 Claire gave a little stifled moan. "Oh oh, I loathe 
 her !" she cried. 
 
 But when he raised his head Claire was gone. 
 
 XII 
 
 He sat long in the twilight, now rising insensibly about 
 him. The garden had become a grave, yet not unfriendly, 
 place ; the white straining Nereids were taking on a tinge 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 231 
 
 of violet, the verdure was of a deeper hue, that was all ; 
 and the fountain plashed unhurriedly, as though measur 
 ing a reasonable interval (he whimsically imagined) be 
 tween the asking of a riddle and its solution given gratis 
 by the asker. 
 
 He loved the woman ; granted : but did not love rise 
 the higher above a corner-stone of delusion? And this 
 he could never afford. He considered Claire to be not 
 extravagantly clever, he could have improved upon her 
 ears (to cite one instance), which were rather clumsily 
 modelled; her finger-tips were a thought too thick, a 
 shade too practical, and in fine she was no more the most 
 beautiful woman in the world than she was the tallest: 
 and yet he loved her as certainly he had loved none of his 
 recent mistresses. Even so, here was no infatuation, no 
 roseate and kindly haze surrounding a goddess, such 
 as that which had by ordinary accompanied Alison 
 Pleydell. . . . 
 
 "I am grown older, perhaps. Perhaps it is merely 
 that I am fashioned of baser stuff than say, Achille 
 Cazaio or de Soyecourt. Or perhaps it is that this over 
 mastering, all-engulfing love is a mere figment of the 
 poet, an age-long superstition as zealously preserved as 
 that of the inscrutability of women, by men who don t 
 believe a syllable of the nonsense they are transmitting. 
 Ysoude is dead ; and I love my young French wife as 
 thoroughly as Palomides did, with as great a passion as 
 was possible to either of us oldsters. Well! all life is 
 a compromise; I compromise with tradition by loving her 
 unselfishly, by loving her with the very best that remains 
 in John Bulmer. 
 
 "And yet, I wish 
 
232 GALLANTRY 
 
 "True, I may be hanged at noon to-morrow, which 
 would somewhat disconcert my plan. I shall not bother 
 about that. Always there remains the chance that, some 
 how, Gaston may arrive in time: otherwise why, other 
 wise I shall be hanged, and as to what will happen after 
 ward I decline to enter into any discussion even with my 
 self. I have my belief, but it is bolstered by no iota 
 of knowledge. Faith, let us live this life as a gentleman 
 should, and keep our hands and our consciences as clean 
 as may be possible, and for the outcome trust to God s 
 common-sense. There are people who must divert Him 
 vastly by their frantic efforts to keep out of hell. For 
 my own part, I would not think of wearing a pelisse in 
 the Desert of Sahara merely because I happened to be 
 sailing for Greenland during the ensuing week. I shall 
 trust to His common-sense. 
 
 "And yet, I wish 
 
 "I wish Reinault would hurry with the supper-trays. 
 I am growing very hungry." 
 
 XIII 
 
 That night he was roused by a tapping at his door. 
 "Jean Bulmer, Jean Bulmer! I have bribed Reinault. 
 I have the keys. Come, and I will set you free." 
 
 "Free to do what?" said John Bulmer. 
 
 "To escape to flee to your foggy England," said the 
 voice without, "and to your hideous Englishwomen." 
 
 "Do you go with me?" said John Bulmer. 
 
 "I do not." This was spoken from the turrets of 
 decision. 
 
 "In that event," said John Bulmer, "I shall return to 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 233 
 
 my dreams, which I infinitely prefer to the realities of a 
 hollow existence. And, besides, now one thinks of it, I 
 have given my parole." 
 
 An infuriate voice came through the key-hole. "You 
 are undoubtedly a bully," it stated. "I loathe you." 
 Followed silence. 
 
 Presently the voice said, "Because if you really loved 
 her you were no better than she was, and so I hate you 
 both." 
 
 :t Beautiful as an angel, and headstrong as a devil/ " 
 was John Bulmer s meditation. Afterward John Bulmer 
 turned over and went back to sleep. 
 
 For after all, as he reflected, he had given his parole. 
 
 XIV 
 
 He was awakened later by a shriek that was followed 
 by a hubbub of tumult. John Bulmer sat erect in bed. 
 He heard a medley of yelling, of musketry, and of 
 crashes, like the dilapidation of falling battlements. 
 He knew well enough what had happened. Cazaio and 
 his men were making a night attack upon Bellegarde. 
 
 John Bulmer arose and, having lighted two candles, 
 dressed himself. He cast aside the first cravat as a 
 failure, knotted the second with scrupulous nicety, and 
 afterward sat down, facing the door to his apartment, and 
 trimmed his finger nails. Outside was Pandemonium, 
 and the little scrap of sky visible from his one window 
 was now of a sullen red. 
 
 "It is very curious I do not suffer more acutely. As 
 a matter of fact, I am not conscious of any particular 
 feeling at all. I believe that most of us when we are 
 
234 GALLANTRY 
 
 confronted with a situation demanding high joy or agony 
 find ourselves devoid of emotion. They have evidently 
 taken de Soyecourt by surprise. She is yonder in that 
 hell outside and will inevitably be captured by its most 
 lustful devil or else be murdered. I am here like a 
 trapped rat, impotent, waiting to be killed, which Cazaio s 
 men will presently attend to when they ransack the place 
 and find r^e. And I feel nothing, absolutely nothing. 
 
 "By this she has probably fallen into Cazaio s power " 
 
 And the man went mad. He dashed upon the locked 
 door, and tore at it with soft white hands, so that pres 
 ently they were all blood. He beat his face upon the 
 door, cutting open his forehead. 
 
 He shook his bleeding hands toward heaven. "In my 
 time I have been cruel. I am less cruel than You ! Let 
 me go !" 
 
 The door opened and she stood upon the threshold. 
 His arms were about her and repeatedly he kissed 
 her, mercilessly, with hard kisses, crushing her in his 
 embrace. 
 
 "Jean, Jean!" she sobbed, beneath his lips, and lay 
 quite still in his arms. He saw how white and tender a 
 thing she was, and the fierce embrace relaxed. 
 
 "You came to me !" he said. 
 
 "Louis had forgotten you. They had all retreated 
 to the Inner Tower. 1 Cazaio cannot take that, for he has 
 no cannon. Louis can hold out there until Gaston comes 
 with help," Claire rapidly explained. "But the thieves 
 
 a The inner ward, or ballium, which (according to Quinault) 
 was defended by ten towers, connected by an embattled stone 
 wall about thirty feet in height and eight feet thick, on the sum- 
 rait of which was a footway; now demolished to make way for 
 the famous gardens. 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 235 
 
 are burning Bellegarde. I could bribe no man to set you 
 free. They were afraid to venture." 
 
 "And you came," said John Bulmer "you left the tall 
 safe Inner Tower to come to me !" 
 
 "I could not let you die, Jean Bulmer." 
 
 "Why, then I must live not unworthily the life which 
 you have given me. O God !" John Bulmer cried, "what 
 a pitiful creature was that great Duke of Ormskirk! 
 Now make a man of me, O God !" 
 
 "Listen, dear madman," she breathed; "we cannot go 
 out into Bellegarde. They are everywhere Cazaio s 
 men. They are building huge fires about the Inner 
 Tower ; but it is all stone, and I think Louis can hold out. 
 But we, Jean Bulmer, can only retreat to the roofing of 
 this place. There is a trap-door to admit you to the top, 
 and there there we can at least live until the dawn." 
 
 "I am unarmed," John Bulmer said ; "and weaponless, 
 I cannot hold even a trap-door against armed men." 
 
 "I have brought you weapons," Claire returned, and 
 waved one hand toward the outer passageway. "Nat 
 urally I would not overlook that. There were many dead 
 men on my way hither, and they had no need of weapons. 
 I have a sword here and two pistols." 
 
 "You are," said John Bulmer, with supreme convic 
 tion, "the most wonderful woman in the universe. By 
 all means let us get to the top of this infernal tower and 
 live there as long as we may find living possible. But 
 first, will you permit me to make myself a thought tidier ? 
 For in my recent agitation as to your whereabouts I 
 have, I perceive, somewhat disordered both my person 
 and my apparel." 
 
 Claire laughed a little sadly. "You have been sincere 
 
236 GALLANTRY 
 
 for once in your existence, and you are hideously 
 ashamed, is it not? Ah, my friend, I would like you so 
 much better if you were not always playing at life, not 
 always posing as if for your portrait." 
 
 "For my part," he returned, obscurely, from the rear of 
 a wet towel, "I fail to perceive any particular merit in 
 dying with a dirty face. We are about to deal with a 
 most important and, it well may be, the final crisis of 
 our lives. So let us do it with decency." 
 
 Afterward John Bulmer changed his cravat, since the 
 one he wore was soiled and crumpled and stained a little 
 with his blood ; and they went up the winding stairway 
 to the top of the Constable s Tower. These two passed 
 through the trap-door into a moonlight which drenched 
 the world; westward the higher walls of the Hugonet 
 Wing shut off that part of Bellegarde where men were 
 slaughtering one another, and turrets, black and un- 
 tenanted, stood in strong relief against a sky of shifting 
 crimson and gold. At their feet was the tiny enclosed 
 garden half -hidden by the poplar boughs. To the east 
 the Tower dropped sheer to the moat ; and past that was 
 the curve of the highway leading to the main entrance of 
 the chateau, and beyond this road you saw Amneran and 
 the moonlighted plains of the Duardenez, and one little 
 tributary, a thread of pulsing silver, in passage to the 
 great river which showed as a smear of white, like a 
 chalk-mark on the world s rim. 
 
 John Bulmer closed the trap-door. They stood with 
 clasped hands, eyes straining toward the east, whence 
 help must arrive if help came at all. 
 
 "No sign of Gaston," the girl said. "We must die 
 presently, Jean Bulmer." 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 237 
 
 "I am sorry," he said, "Oh, I am hideously sorry that 
 we two must die." 
 
 "I am not afraid, Jean Bulmer. But life would be very 
 sweet, with you." 
 
 "That was my thought, too. ... I have always bun 
 gled this affair of living, you conceive. I had considered 
 the world a healthy and not intolerable prison, where 
 each man must get through his day s work as best he 
 might, soiling his fingers as much as necessity demanded 
 but no more, so that at the end he might sleep soundly, 
 or perhaps that he might go to heaven and pluck eter 
 nally at a harp, or else to hell and burn eternally, just as 
 divines say we will. I never bothered about it, much, so 
 long as there was my day s work at hand, demanding 
 performance. And in consequence I missed the whole 
 meaning of life." 
 
 "That is not so!" Claire replied. "No man has 
 achieved more, as everybody knows." 
 
 This was an odd speech. But he answered, idly : "Eh, 
 I have done well enough as respectable persons judge 
 these matters. And I went to church on Sundays, and 
 I paid my tithes. Trifles, these, sweetheart ; for in every 
 man, as I now see quite plainly, there is a god. And the 
 god must judge, and the man himself must be the temple 
 and the instrument of the god. It is very simple, I see 
 now. And whether he go to church or no is a matter of 
 trivial importance, so long as the man obeys the god who 
 is within him." John Bulmer was silent, staring vaguely 
 toward the blank horizon. 
 
 "And now that you have discovered this," she mur 
 mured, "therefore you wish to live?" 
 
 "Why, partly on account of that," he said, "yet per- 
 
238 GALLANTRY 
 
 haps mostly on account of you. . . . But heyho!" said 
 John Bulmer; "I am disriguring my last hours by in 
 flicting upon a lady my half-baked theology. Let us sit 
 down, my dear, and talk of trifles till they find us. And 
 then I will kill you, sweetheart, and afterward myself. 
 Presently come dawn and death ; and my heart, according 
 to the ancient custom of Poictesme, is crying, Oy Dieusl 
 Oy Dieus, de I alba tantost ve! But for all that, my 
 mouth will resolutely discourse of the last Parisian 
 flounces, or of your unfathomable eyes, or of Monsieur 
 de Voltaire s new tragedy of Oreste, or, in fine, of any 
 topic you may elect." 
 
 He smiled, with a twinging undercurrent of regret that 
 not even in impendent death did he find any stimulus to 
 the heroical. But the girl had given a muffled cry. 
 
 "Look, Jean! Already they come for us." 
 
 Through the little garden a man was running, running 
 frenziedly from one wall to another when he found the 
 place had no outlet save the gate through which he had 
 scuttled. It was fat Guiton, the steward of the Due de 
 Puysange. Presently came Achille Cazaio with a wet 
 sword, and harried the unarmed old man, wantonly driv 
 ing him about the poplars, pricking him in the quivering 
 shoulders, but never killing him. All the while the 
 steward screamed with a monotonous shrill wailing. 
 
 After a little he fell at Cazaio s feet, shrieking for 
 mercy. 
 
 "Fool!" said the latter, "I am Achille Cazaio. I have 
 no mercy in me." 
 
 He kicked the steward in the face two or three times, 
 and Guiton, his countenance all blood, black in the moon 
 light, embraced the brigand s knees and wept. Presently 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 239 
 
 Cazaio slowly drove his sword into the back of the pros 
 trate man, who shrieked, "O Jesu!" and began to cough 
 and choke. Five times Cazaio spitted the writhing thing, 
 and afterward was Guiton s soul released from the tor 
 tured body. 
 
 "Is it well, think you," said John Bulmer, "that I 
 should die without first killing Achille Cazaio?" 
 
 "No!" the girl answered, fiercely. 
 
 Then John Bulmer leaned upon the parapet of the 
 Constable s Tower and called aloud, "Friend Achille, 
 your conduct disappoints me." 
 
 The man started, peered about, and presently stared 
 upward. "Monsieur Bulmaire, to encounter you is in 
 deed an unlooked-for pleasure. May I inquire wherein 
 I have been so ill-fated as to offend?" 
 
 "You have an engagement to fight me on Thursday 
 afternoon, friend Achille, so that to all intent I hold a 
 mortgage on your life. I submit that, in consequence, 
 you have no right to endanger that life by besieging cas 
 tles and wasting the night in assassinations." 
 
 "There is something in what you say, Monsieur Bul 
 maire," the brigand replied, "and I very heartily apolo 
 gize for not thinking of it earlier. But in the way of 
 business, you understand, However, may I trust it 
 will please you to release me from this inconvenient 
 obligation?" Cazaio added, with a smile. "My men are 
 waiting for me yonder, you comprehend." 
 
 "In fact," said John Bulmer, hospitably, "up here the 
 moonlight is as clear as day. We can settle our affair in 
 five minutes." 
 
 "I come," said Cazaio, and plunged into the entrance 
 to the Constable s Tower. 
 
240 GALLANTRY 
 
 "The pistol ! quick !" said Claire. 
 
 "And for what, pray?" said John Bulmer. 
 
 "So that from behind, as he lifts the trap-door, I may 
 shoot him through the head. Do you stand in front as 
 though to receive him. It will be quite simple." 
 
 XV 
 
 "My dear creature," said John Bulmer, "I am now 
 doubly persuaded that God entirely omitted what we 
 term a sense of honor when He created the woman. I 
 mean to kill this rapscallion, but I mean to kill him 
 fairly." He unbolted the trap-door and immediately 
 Cazaio stood upon the roof, his sword drawn. 
 
 Achille Cazaio stared at the tranquil woman, and now 
 his countenance was less that of a satyr than of a demon. 
 "At four in the morning! I congratulate you, Monsieur 
 Bulmaire," he said, "Oh, decidedly, I congratulate you." 
 
 "Thank you," said John Bulmer, sword in hand ; "yes, 
 we were married yesterday." 
 
 Cazaio drew a pistol from his girdle and fired full in 
 John Bulmer s face; but the latter had fallen upon one 
 knee, and the ball sped harmlessly above him. 
 
 "You are very careless with fire-arms," John Bulmer 
 lamented. "Really, friend Achille, if you are not more 
 circumspect you will presently injure somebody, and will 
 forever afterward be consumed with unavailing regret 
 and compunctions. Now let us get down to our affair." 
 
 They crossed blades in the moonlight. Cazaio was in 
 a disastrous condition; John Bulmer s tolerant accep 
 tance of any meanness that a Cazaio might attempt, the 
 vital shame of this new and baser failure before Claire s 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 241 
 
 very eyes, had made of Cazaio a crazed beast. He 
 slobbered little flecks of foam, clinging like hoar-frost to 
 the tangled beard, and he breathed with shuddering in 
 halations, like a man in agony, the while that he charged 
 with redoubling thrusts. The Englishman appeared to 
 be enjoying himself, discreetly ; he chuckled as the other, 
 cursing, shifted from tierce to quart, and he met the as 
 sault with a nice inevitableness. In all, each movement 
 had the comely precision of finely adjusted clockwork, 
 though at times John Bulmer s face showed a spurt of 
 amusement roused by the brigand s extravagancy of ges 
 ture and Cazaio s contortions as he strove to pass the line 
 of steel that flickered cannily between his sword and John 
 Bulmer s portly bosom. 
 
 Then John Bulmer, too, attacked. "For Guiton!" said 
 he, as his point slipped into Cazaio s breast. John Bul 
 mer recoiled and lodged another thrust in the brigand s 
 throat. "For attempting to assassinate me!" His foot 
 stamped as his sword ran deep into Cazaio s belly. "For 
 insulting my wife by thinking of her obscenely! You 
 are a dead man, friend Achille." 
 
 Cazaio had dropped his sword, reeling as if drunken 
 against the western battlement. "My comfort," he said, 
 hoarsely, while one hand tore at his jetting throat "my 
 comfort is that I could not perish slain by a braver 
 enemy." He moaned and stumbled backward. Mo 
 mentarily his knees gripped the low embrasure. Then 
 his feet flipped upward, convulsively, so that John Bul 
 mer saw the man s spurs glitter and twitch in the moon 
 light, and John Bulmer heard a snapping and crackling 
 and swishing among the poplars, and heard the heavy, 
 unvibrant thud of Cazaio s body upon the turf. 
 
242 GALLANTRY 
 
 "May he find more mercy than he has merited," said 
 John Bulmer, "for the man had excellent traits. Yes, 
 in him the making of a very good swordsman was spoiled 
 by that abominable Boisrobert." 
 
 But Claire had caught him by the shoulder. "Look, 
 Jean!" 
 
 He turned toward the Duardenez. A troop of horse 
 men was nearing. Now they swept about the curve in the 
 highway and at their head was de Puysange, laughing 
 terribly. The dragoons went by like a tumult in a sick 
 man s dream, and the Hugonet Wing had screened them. 
 
 "Then Bellegarde is relieved," said John Bulmer, "and 
 your life, at least, is saved." 
 
 The girl stormed. "You you abominable trickster! 
 You would not be content with the keys of heaven if you 
 had not got them by outwitting somebody! Do you 
 fancy I had never seen the Duke of Ormskirk s portrait? 
 Gaston sent me one six months ago." 
 
 "Ah!" said John Bulmer, very quietly. He took up 
 the discarded scabbard, and he sheathed his sword without 
 speaking. 
 
 Presently he said, "You have been cognizant all along 
 that I was the Duke of Ormskirk?" 
 
 "Yes," she answered, promptly. 
 
 "And you married me, knowing that I was God save 
 the mark! the great Duke of Ormskirk? knowing that 
 you made what we must grossly term a brilliant match ?" 
 
 "I married you because, in spite of Jean Bulmer, you 
 had betrayed yourself to be a daring and a gallant gen 
 tleman, and because, for a moment, I thought that I 
 did not dislike the Duke of Ormskirk quite so much as 
 I ought to." 
 
IN THE SECOND APRIL 243 
 
 He digested this. 
 
 "O Jean Bulmer," the girl said, "they tell me you 
 were ever a fortunate man, but I consider you the unluck- 
 iest I know of. For always you are afraid to be yourself. 
 Sometimes you forget, and are just you and then, ohe ! 
 you remember, and are only a sulky, fat old gentleman 
 who is not you at all, somehow ; so that at times I detest 
 you, and at times I cannot thoroughly detest you. So 
 that I played out the comedy, Jean Bulmer. I meant in 
 the end to tell Louis who you were, of course, and not let 
 them hang you ; but I never quite trusted you ; and I 
 never knew whether I detested you or no, at bottom, until 
 last night." 
 
 "Last night you left the safe Inner Tower to come to 
 me to save me at all hazards, or else to die with me 
 And for what reason, did you do this ?" 
 
 "You are bullying me !" she wailed. 
 
 "And for what reason, did you do this ?" "he repeated, 
 without any change of intonation. 
 
 "Can you not guess ?" she asked. "Oh, because I am a 
 fool !" she stated, very happily, for his arms were about 
 her. 
 
 "Eh, in that event " said the Duke of Ormskirk. 
 "Look!" said he, with a deeper thrill of speech, "it is 
 the dawn." 
 
 They turned hand in hand ; and out of the east the sun 
 came statelily, and a new day was upon them. 
 
VIII 
 
 HEART OF GOLD 
 As Played at Paris, in the May of 1750 
 
 "Cette amoureuse ardeur qui dans Us cceurs s f excite 
 N est point, comme I on sgait, un effet du merite; 
 Le caprice y prend part, et, quand quelqu un nous plaist, 
 Souvent nous avons peine a dire pourquoy c*est. 
 Mais on vois que V amour se gouverne autrement." 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 Due DE PUYSANGE, somewhat given to women, and now 
 and then to good-fellowship, but a man of excellent 
 disposition. 
 
 MARQUIS DE SOYECOURT, his cousin, and loves de Puy 
 sange s wife. 
 
 DUKE OF ORMSKIRK. 
 
 DUCHESSE DE PUYSANGE, a precise, but amiable and 
 patient, woman. 
 
 ANTOINE, LACKEYS to de Puysange, Etc. 
 
 SCENE 
 Paris, mostly within and about the Hotel de Puysange. 
 
HEART OF GOLD 
 PROEM: Necessitated by a Change of Scene 
 
 YOU are not to imagine that John Bulmer debated 
 an exposure of de Soyecourt. "Live and let live * 
 was the Englishman s axiom ; the exuberant 
 Cazaio was dead, his men were either slain or dispersed, 
 and the whole tangle of errors with judicious reserva 
 tions had now been unravelled to Gaston s satisfaction. 
 And Claire de Puysange was now Duchess of Ormskirk. 
 Why, then, meddle with Destiny, who appeared, after all, 
 to possess a certain sense of equity ? 
 
 So Ormskirk smiled as he presently went about Paris, 
 on his own business, and when he and Louis de Soyecourt 
 encountered each other their friendliness was monstrous 
 in its geniality. 
 
 They were now one and all in Paris, where Ormskirk s 
 marriage had been again, and more publicly, solemnized. 
 De Puysange swore that his sister was on this occasion 
 the loveliest person affordable by the resources of the uni 
 verse, but de Soyecourt backed another candidate ; so that 
 over their wine the two gentlemen presently fell into a 
 dispute. 
 
 "Nay, but I protest to you she is the most beautiful 
 woman in all Paris !" cried the Marquis de Soyecourt, and 
 kissed his finger-tips gallantly. 
 
 "My dear Louis," the Due de Puysange retorted, "her 
 eyes are noticeable, perhaps ; and I grant you/ he added, 
 
 247 
 
248 GALLANTRY 
 
 slowly, "that her husband is not often troubled by that 
 which they notice." 
 
 "And the cleverest !" 
 
 "I have admitted she knows when to be silent. What 
 more would you demand of any woman?" 
 
 "And yet " The little Marquis waved a reproachful 
 forefinger. 
 
 "Why, but," said the Duke, with utter comprehension, 
 "it is not for nothing that our house traces from the great 
 Jurgen " 
 
 He was in a genial midnight mood, and, on other sub 
 jects, inclined to be garrulous; for the world, viewed 
 through a slight haze, of vinous origin, seemed a pleasant 
 place, and inspired a kindly desire to say diverting things 
 about the world s contents. He knew the Marquis to be 
 patient, and even stolid, under a fusillade of epigram 
 and paradox; in short, de Puysange knew the hour and 
 the antagonist for midnight talk to be at hand. And a 
 saturnalia of phrases whirled in his brain, demanding 
 utterance. 
 
 He waved them aside. Certain inbred ideas are 
 strangely tenacious of existence, and it happened to be 
 his wife they were discussing. It would not be good 
 form, de Puysange felt, for him to evince great interest 
 in this topic. . . . 
 
 "And yet," de Puysange queried, as he climbed demo 
 cratically into a public hackney coach, "why not? For 
 my part, I see no good and sufficient reason for discrim- 
 
HEART OF GOLD 249 
 
 inating against the only woman one has sworn to love 
 and cherish and honor. It is true that several hundred 
 people witnessed the promise, with a perfect understand 
 ing of the jest, and that the keeping of this oath involves 
 a certain breach of faith with society. Eh bien! let us, 
 then, deceive the world and the flesh and the devil! 
 Let us snap our ringers at this unholy trinity, and assert 
 the right, when the whim takes us, to make unstinted 
 love to our own wives !" 
 
 He settled back in the fiacre to deliberate. "It is 
 bourgeois ? Bah ! the word is the first refuge of the un 
 skilful poseur! It is bourgeois to be born, to breathe, 
 to sleep, or eat; in which of the functions that con 
 sume the greater part of my life do I differ from my 
 grocer ? Bourgeois ! why, rightly considered, to be a 
 human being at all is quite inordinately bourgeois! And 
 it is very notably grocer-like to maintain a grave face 
 and two establishments, to chuckle privily over the frag 
 ments of the seventh commandment, to repent, upon de 
 tection, and afterward ces betes-la! to drink poison. 
 Ma f oi, I infinitely prefer the domestic coffee !" 
 
 The Due de Puysange laughed, and made as though to 
 wave aside the crudities of life. "All vice is bourgeois, 
 and fornication in particular tends to become sordid, 
 outworn, vieux jeu ! In youth, I grant you, it is the un- 
 expurgated that always happens. But at my age miseri- 
 corde! the men yawn, and les demoiselles bah! les 
 demoiselles have the souls of accountants! They buy 
 and sell, as my grocer does. The satiation of carnal de 
 sires is no longer a matter of splendid crimes and sorrows 
 and kingdoms lost ; it is a matter of business." 
 
250 GALLANTRY 
 
 The harsh and swarthy face relaxed. With a little 
 sigh the Due de Puysange had closed his fevered eyes. 
 About them were a multitude of tiny lines, and of this 
 fact he was obscurely conscious, in a wearied fashion, 
 when he again looked out on the wellnigh deserted streets, 
 now troubled by a hint of dawn. His eyes were old : they 
 had seen much. Two workmen shambled by, chatting on 
 their way to the day s work : in the attic yonder a drunken 
 fellow sang. "Ah, bouteille ma mie," he bellowed, 
 "pourquoi vous vuidez-vous ?" 
 
 De Puysange laughed. "I suppose I have no con 
 science, but at least, I can lay claim to a certain fas 
 tidiousness. I am very wicked," he smiled, without 
 mirth or bitterness, "I have sinned notably as the world 
 accounts it; indeed, I think, my repute is as abominable 
 as that of any man living. And I am tired, alas, I am 
 damnably tired! I have found the seven deadly sins 
 deadly, beyond doubt, but only deadly dull and deadly 
 commonplace. I have perseveringly frisked in the high 
 places of iniquity, I have junketed with all evil gods, and 
 the utmost they could pretend to offer any of their servi 
 tors was a spasm. I renounce them as feeble-minded 
 deities, I snap my fingers, very much as did my pro 
 genitor, the great Jurgen, at all their over-rated mys 
 teries." 
 
 His glance caught and clung for a moment: to the pal 
 ing splendor of the moon that hung low in the vacant, 
 dove-colored heavens. A faint pang, half-envy, half- 
 regret, vexed the Duke with a dull twinge. "I wish too 
 that by living continently I could have done, once for all, 
 with this faded pose and this idle making of phrases! 
 Eheu ! there is a certain proverb concerning pitch so cyn- 
 
HEART OF GOLD 251 
 
 ical that I suspect it of being truthful. However, we 
 shall see." 
 
 De Puysange smiled. "The most beautiful woman in 
 all Paris? Ah, yes, she is quite that, is this grave silent 
 female whose eyes are more fathomless and cold than 
 oceans ! And how cordially she despises me ! Ma f oi, 
 I think that if her blood which is, beyond doubt, of a 
 pale-pink color, be ever stirred, at all, it is with loathing 
 of her husband. Well, life holds many surprises for 
 madame, now that I become quite as virtuous as she is. 
 We will arrange a very pleasant comedy of belated court 
 ship ; for are we not bidden to love one another ? So be 
 it, I am henceforth the model pere de famille." 
 
 Now the fiacre clattered before the Hotel de Puysange. 
 
 The door was opened by a dull-eyed lackey, whom de 
 Puysange greeted with a smile. "Bon jour, Antoine!" 
 cried the Duke; "I trust that your wife and doubtless 
 very charming children have good health?" 
 
 "Beyond question, monseigneur," the man answered, 
 stolidly. 
 
 "That is excellent hearing," de Puysange said, "and 
 it rejoices me to be reassured of their welfare. For the 
 happiness of others, Antoine, is very dear to the heart 
 of a father and of a husband." The Duke chuckled 
 seraphically as he passed down the hall. The man stared 
 after him, and shrugged. 
 
 "Rather worse than usual," Antoine considered. 
 
 II 
 
 Next morning the Duchesse de Puysange received an 
 immoderate armful of roses, with a fair copy of some 
 
252 GALLANTRY 
 
 execrable verses. De Puysange spent the afternoon se 
 lecting bonbons and wholesome books, "for his fiancee," 
 he gravely informed the shopman. 
 
 At the Opera he never left her box ; afterward, at the 
 Comtesse de Hauteville s, he created a furor by sitting 
 out three dances in the conservatory with his wife. 
 Mademoiselle Tiercelin had already received his regrets 
 that he was spending that night at home. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The month wore on. 
 
 "It is the true honeymoon/ said the Duke. 
 
 In that event he might easily have found a quieter 
 place than Paris wherein to spend it. Police agents had 
 of late been promised a premium for any sturdy beggar, 
 whether male or female, they could secure to populate the 
 new plantation of Louisiana; and as the premium was 
 large, genteel burgesses, and in particular the children 
 of genteel burgesses, were presently disappearing in a 
 fashion their families found annoying. Now, from no 
 where, arose and spread the curious rumor that King 
 Louis, somewhat the worse for his diversions in the Parc- 
 aux-Cerfs, daily restored his vigor by bathing in the blood 
 of young children ; and parents of the absentees began to 
 manifest a double dissatisfaction, for the deduction was 
 obvious. 
 
 There were riots. In one of them Madame de Pom 
 padour barely escaped with her life, 1 and the King him 
 self on his way to Compiegne, was turned back at the 
 
 1 This was on the afternoon of the famous ball given by the 
 Pompadour in honor of the new Duchess of Ormskirk. 
 
HEART OF GOLD 253 
 
 Porte St. Antoine, and forced to make a detour rather 
 than enter his own capital. After this affair de Puysange 
 went straight to his brother-in-law. 
 
 "Jean," said he, "for a newly married man you re 
 ceive too much company. And afterward your visitors 
 talk blasphemously in cabarets and shoot the King s 
 musketeers. I would appreciate an explanation." 
 
 Ormskirk shrugged. "Merely a makeshift, Gaston. 
 Merely a device to gain time wherein England may pre 
 pare against the alliance of France and Austria. Your 
 secret treaty will never be signed as long as Paris is given 
 over to rioters. Nay, the Empress may well hesitate to 
 ally herself with a king who thus clamantly cannot govern 
 even his own realm. And meanwhile England will pre 
 pare herself. We will be ready to fight you in five years, 
 but we do not intend to be hurried about it." 
 
 "Yes," de Puysange assented ; "yet you err in sending 
 Cumberland to defend Hanover. You will need a better 
 man there/ 
 
 Ormskirk slapped his thigh. "So you intercepted that 
 last despatch, after all ! And I could have sworn Candale 
 was trustworthy!" 
 
 "My adored Jean," replied de Puysange, "he has been 
 in my pay for six months ! Console yourself with the 
 reflection that you overbid us in Noumaria." 
 
 "Yes, but old Ludwig held out for more than the whole 
 duchy is worth. We paid of course. We had to pay." 
 
 "And one of course congratulates you upon securing 
 the quite essential support of that duchy. Still, Jean, if 
 there were any accident " De Puysange was really un 
 believably ugly when he smiled. "For accidents do oc 
 cur. ... It is war, then?" 
 
254 GALLANTRY 
 
 "My dear fellow," said Ormskirk, "of course it is war. 
 We are about to fly at each other s throats, with half 
 of Europe to back each of us. We begin the greatest 
 game we have ever played. And we will manage it very 
 badly, I dare say, since we are each of us just now be 
 sotted with adoration of our wives/ 
 
 "At times," said de Puysange, with dignity, "your 
 galimatias are insufferable. Now let us talk like reason 
 able beings. In regard to Pomerania, you will readily 
 understand that the interests of humanity " 
 
 IV 
 
 Still the suggestion haunted him. It would be a 
 nuance too ridiculous, of course, to care seriously for 
 one s wife, and yet Helene de Puysange was undeniably a 
 handsome woman. As they sat over the remains of their 
 dinner, a deux, by the Duke s request, she seemed to 
 her husband quite incredibly beautiful. She exhaled the 
 effects of a water-color in discreet and delicate tinctures. 
 Lithe and fine and proud she was to the merest glance ; 
 yet patience, a thought conscious of itself, beaconed in 
 her eyes, and she appeared, with urbanity, to regard life 
 as, upon the whole, a countrified performance. De Puy 
 sange liked that air ; he liked the reticence of every glance 
 and speech and gesture, liked, above all, the thinnish 
 oval of her face and the staid splendor of her hair. Here 
 was no vulgar yellow, no crass and hackneyed gold . . . 
 and yet there was a clarified and gauzier shade of gold 
 . . . the color of the moon by daylight, say. . . . Then, 
 as the pleasures of digestion lapsed gently into the initial 
 amenities of sleep, she spoke. 
 
HEART OF GOLD 255 
 
 "Monsieur," said she, "will you be pleased to tell me 
 the meaning of this comedy?" 
 
 "Madame," de Puysange answered, and raised his 
 gloomy eyebrows, "I do not entirely comprehend." 
 
 "Ah," said she, "believe me, I do not undervalue your 
 perception. I have always esteemed your cleverness, 
 monsieur, however much" she paused for a moment, a 
 fluctuating smile upon her lips, "however much I may 
 have regretted its manifestations. I am not clever, and 
 to me cleverness has always seemed to be an infinite in 
 capacity for hard work; its results are usually a few 
 sonnets, an undesirable wife, and a warning for one s 
 acquaintances. In your case it is, of course, different; 
 you have your statesmanship to play with " 
 
 "And statesmen have no need of cleverness, you would 
 imply, madame?" 
 
 "I do not say that. In any event, you are the Due de 
 Puysange, and the weight of a great name stifles stupidity 
 and cleverness without any partiality. With you, clever 
 ness has taken the form of a tendency to intoxication, 
 amours, and amiability. I have acquiesced in this. 
 But, for the past month " 
 
 "The happiest period of my life !" breathed the Duke. 
 
 " you have been pleased to present me with flow 
 ers, bonbons, jewels, and what not. You have actually 
 accorded your wife the courtesies you usually pre 
 serve for the ladies of the ballet. You have dogged 
 my footsteps, you have attemped to intrude into my 
 bedroom, you have talked to me as well, very much 
 as" 
 
 "Much as the others do?" de Puysange queried, help 
 fully. "Pardon me, madame, but, in one s own husband, 
 
256 GALLANTRY 
 
 I had thought this very routine might savor of origin 
 ality." 
 
 The Duchess flushed. "All the world knows, monsieur, 
 that in your estimation what men have said to me, or I 
 to them, has been for fifteen years a matter of no mo 
 ment ! It is not due to you that I am- still " 
 
 "A pearl," finished the Duke, gallantly, then touched 
 himself upon the chest, "cast before swine," he sighed. 
 
 She rose to her feet. "Yes, cast before swine!" she 
 cried, with a quick lift of speech. She seemed very tall 
 as she stood tapping her fingers upon the table, irreso 
 lutely ; but after an instant she laughed and spread out her 
 fine hands in an impotent gesture. "Ah, monsieur," she 
 said, "my father entrusted to your keeping a clean-minded 
 girl ! What have you made of her, Gaston ?" 
 
 A strange and profoundly unreasonable happiness 
 swept through the Duke s soul as she spoke his given 
 name for the first time within his memory-. Surely, the 
 deep contralto voice had lingered over it? half -tenderly, 
 half-caressingly, one might think. 
 
 The Duke put aside his coffee-cup and, rising, took his 
 wife s soft hands in his. "What have I made of her? 
 I have made of her, Helene, the one object of all my de 
 sires." 
 
 Her face flushed. "Mountebank !" she cried, and strug 
 gled to free herself; "do you mistake me, then, for a 
 raddle- faced actress in a barn? Ah, les demoiselles have 
 formed you, monsieur, they have formed you well !" 
 
 "Pardon!" said the Duke. He released her hands, he 
 swept back his hair with a gesture of impatience. He 
 turned from his wife, and strolled toward a window, 
 where, for a little, he tapped upon the pane, his murky 
 
HEART OF GOLD 257 
 
 countenance twitching oddly, as he stared into the quiet 
 and sunlit street. "Madame," he began, in a level voice, 
 "I will tell you the meaning of the comedy. To me, 
 always, as you know, a creature of whims, there came, 
 a month ago, a new whim which I thought attractive, un 
 conventional, promising. It was to make love to my own 
 wife rather than to another man s. Ah, I grant you, it is 
 incredible," he cried, when the Duchess raised her hand 
 as though to speak, "incredible, fantastic, and ungentle- 
 manly! So be it; nevertheless, I have played out my 
 role. I have been the model husband ; I have put away 
 wine and les demoiselles ; for it pleased me, in my petty 
 insolence, to patronize, rather than to defy, the laws of 
 God and man. Your perfection irritated me, madame ; 
 it pleased me to demonstrate how easy is this trick of 
 treating the world as the antechamber of a future ex 
 istence. It pleased me to have in my life one space, how 
 ever short, over which neither the Recording Angel nor 
 even you might draw a long countenance. It pleased me, 
 in effect, to play out the comedy, smug- faced and im 
 maculate, for the time. I concede that I have failed in 
 my part. Hiss me from the stage, madame; add one 
 more insult to the already considerable list of those 
 affronts which I have put upon you ; one more will 
 scarcely matter." 
 
 She faced him with set lips. "So, monsieur, your 
 boasted comedy amounts only to this ?" 
 
 "I am not sure of its meaning, madame. I think that, 
 perhaps, the swine, wallowing in the mire which they have 
 neither strength nor will to leave, may yet, at times, long 
 and long whole-heartedly " De Puysange snapped 
 his fingers. "Peste !" said he, "let us now have done with 
 
258 GALLANTRY 
 
 this dreary comedy! Beyond doubt de Soyecourt has 
 much to answer for, in those idle words which were its 
 germ. Let us hiss both collaborators, madame." 
 
 "De Soyecourt!" she marveled, with a little start. 
 "Was it he who prompted you to make love to me ?" 
 
 "Without intention," pleaded the Duke. "He twitted 
 me for my inability, as your husband, to gain your affec 
 tions; but I do not question his finest sensibilities would 
 be outraged by our disastrous revival of Philemon and 
 Baucis." 
 
 "Ah !" said she. She was smiling at some reflection 
 or other. 
 
 There was a pause. The Due de Puysange drummed 
 upon the window-pane; the Duchess, still faintly smiling, 
 trifled with the thin gold chain that hung about her neck. 
 Both knew their display of emotion to have been some 
 what unmodern, not entirely a la mode. 
 
 "Decidedly," spoke de Puysange, and turned toward 
 her with a slight grimace, "I am no longer fit to play the 
 lover; yet a little while, madame, and you must stir my 
 gruel-posset, and arrange the pillows more comfortably 
 about the octogenarian." 
 
 "Ah, Gaston," she answered, and in protest raised her 
 slender fingers, "let us have no more heroics. We are not 
 well fitted for them, you and I." 
 
 "So it would appear," the Due de Puysange conceded, 
 not without sulkiness. 
 
 "Let us be friends," she pleaded. "Remember, it was 
 fifteen years ago I made the grave mistake of marrying a 
 very charming man " 
 
 "Merci !" cried the Duke. 
 
 " and I did not know that I was thereby denying my- 
 
HEART OF GOLD 259 
 
 self the pleasure of his acquaintance. I have learned too 
 late that marrying a man is only the most civil way of 
 striking- him from one s visiting-list." The Duchess hesi 
 tated. "Frankly, Gaston, I do not regret the past 
 month." 
 
 "It has been adorable !" sighed the Duke. 
 
 "Yes," she admitted ; "except those awkward moments 
 when you would insist on making love to me." 
 
 "But no, madame," cried he, "it was precisely " 
 
 "O my husband, my husband !" she interrupted, with 
 a shrug of the shoulders ; "why, you do it so badly !" 
 
 The Due de Puysange took a short turn about the 
 apartment. "Yet I married you," said he, "at sixteen 
 out of a convent !" 
 
 "Mon ami," she murmured, in apology, "am I not to 
 be frank with you ? Would you have only the connubial 
 confidences ?" 
 
 "But I had no idea " he began. 
 
 "Why, Gaston, it bored me to the very verge of yawn 
 ing in my lover s countenance. I, too, had no idea but 
 that it would bore you equally " 
 
 "Hein?" said the Duke. 
 
 "to hear what d Humieres " 
 
 "He squints !" cried the Due de Puysange. 
 
 " or de Crequy " 
 
 "That red-haired ape !" he muttered. 
 
 " or d Arlanges, or or any of them, was pleased to 
 say. In fact, it was my duty to conceal from my hus 
 band anything which might involve him in duels. Now 
 that we are friends, of course it is entirely different." 
 
 The Duchess smiled; the Duke walked up and down 
 the room with the contained ferocity of a caged tiger. 
 
260 GALLANTRY 
 
 "In duels! in a whole series of duels! So these se 
 ducers besiege you in platoons. Ma foi, friendship is a 
 good oculist! Already my vision improves." 
 
 "Gaston !" she cried. The Duchess rose and laid both 
 hands upon his shoulders. "Gaston ?" she repeated. 
 
 For a heart-beat the Due de Puysange looked into his 
 wife s eyes; then he sadly smiled and shook his head. 
 "Madame," said the Duke, "I do not doubt you. Ah, 
 believe me, I have comprehended, always, that in your 
 keeping my honor was quite safe far more safe than 
 in mine, as Heaven and most of the fiends well know. 
 You have been a true and faithful wife to a worthless 
 brute who has not deserved it." He lifted her fingers to 
 his lips. De Puysange stood very erect ; his heels clicked 
 together, and his voice was earnest. "I thank you, 
 madame, and I pray you to believe that I have never 
 doubted you. You are too perfect to err Frankly, and 
 between friends," added the Duke, "it was your cold 
 perfection which frightened me. You are an icicle, 
 Helene." 
 
 She was silent for a moment. "Ah !" she said, and 
 sighed ; "you think so ?" 
 
 "Once, then ?" The Due de Puysange seated him 
 self beside his wife, and took her hand. 
 
 "I it was nothing." Her lashes fell, and dull color 
 flushed through her countenance. 
 
 "Between friends," the Duke suggested, "there should 
 be no reservations." 
 
 "But it is such a pitiably inartistic little history!" the 
 Duchess protested. "Eh bien, if you must have it! For 
 I was a girl once, an innocent girl, as given as are most 
 
HEART OF GOLD 261 
 
 girls to long reveries and bright, callow day-dreams. And 
 there was a man " 
 
 "There always is," said the Duke, darkly. 
 
 "Why, he never even knew, mon ami !" cried his wife, 
 and laughed, and clapped her hands. "He was much 
 older than I ; there were stories about him oh, a great 
 many stories, and one hears even in a convent " She 
 paused with a reminiscent smile. "And I used to won 
 der shyly what this very fearful reprobate might be like. 
 I thought of him with de Lauzun, and Dom Juan, and 
 with the Due de Grammont, and all those other scented, 
 shimmering, magnificent libertines over whom les in 
 genues wonder ; only, I thought of him more often than 
 of the others, I made little prayers for him to the Virgin, 
 And I procured a tiny miniature of him. And, when I 
 came out of the convent, I met him at my father s house. 1 
 And that was all." 
 
 "All?" The Due de Puysange had raised his swart 
 eyebrows, and he slightly smiled. 
 
 "All," she re-echoed, firmly. "Oh, I assure you he was 
 still too youthful to have any time to devote to young 
 girls. He was courteous no more. But I kept the 
 picture, ah, girls are so foolish, Gaston !" The Duchess, 
 with a light laugh, drew upward the thin chain about her 
 neck. At its end was a little heart-shaped locket of dull 
 gold, with a diamond sunk deep in each side. She re 
 garded the locket with a quaint sadness. "It is a long 
 
 1 She was of the Aigullon family, and sister to d Agenois, the 
 first and very politic lover of Madame de la Tournelle, after 
 ward mistress to Louis Quinze under the title of Duchesse de 
 Chateauroux. The later relations between the d Aigullons and 
 Madame du Barry are well-known. 
 
262 GALLANTRY 
 
 while since I have seen that miniature, for it has been 
 sealed in here," said she, "ever since since some one 
 gave me the locket." 
 
 Now the Due de Puysange took this trinket, still tepid 
 and perfumed from contact with her flesh. He turned it 
 awkwardly in his hand, his eyes flashing volumes of won 
 derment and inquiry. Yet he did not appear jealous, nor 
 excessively unhappy. "And never," he demanded, some 
 vital emotion catching at his voice "never since then ?" 
 
 "I never, of course, approved of him," she answered; 
 and at this point de Puysange noted so near as he could 
 remember for the first time in his existence, the curve 
 of her trailing lashes. Why but his wife had lovely eye 
 lashes, lashes so unusual that he drew nearer to observe 
 them more at his ease. "Still, I hardly know how to 
 tell you still, without him the world was more quiet, less 
 colorful ; it held, appreciably, less to catch the eye and 
 ear. Eh, he had an air, Gaston; he was never an ad 
 mirable man, but, somehow, he was invariably the centre 
 of the picture." 
 
 "And you have always always you have cared for 
 him ?" said the Duke, drawing nearer and yet more near 
 to her. 
 
 "Other men," she murmured, "seem futile and of minor 
 importance, after him." The lashes lifted. They fell, 
 promptly. "So, I have always kept the heart, mon ami. 
 And, yes, I have always loved him, I suppose." 
 
 The chain had moved and quivered in his hand. Was 
 it man or woman who trembled? wondered the Due de 
 Puysange. For a moment he stood immovable, every 
 nerve in his body tense. Surely, it was she who trem 
 bled? It seemed to him that this woman, whose cold 
 
HEART OF GOLD 263 
 
 perfection had galled him so long, now stood with down 
 cast eyes, and blushed and trembled, too, like any rustic 
 maiden come shamefaced to her first tryst. 
 
 "Helene !" he cried. 
 
 "But no, my story is too dull," she protested, and 
 shrugged her shoulders, and disengaged herself half- 
 fearfully, it seemed to her husband. "Even more insipid 
 than your comedy," she added, with a not unkindly smile. 
 "Do we drive this afternoon?" 
 
 "In effect, yes!" cried the Duke. He paused and 
 laughed a low and gentle laugh, pulsing with unutter 
 able content. "Since this afternoon, madame " 
 
 "Is cloudless?" she queried. 
 
 "Nay, far more than that," de Puysange amended; 
 "it is refulgent" 
 
 What time the Duchess prepared her person for the 
 drive the Duke walked in the garden of the Hotel de 
 Puysange. Up and down a shady avenue of lime-trees 
 he paced, and chuckled to himself, and smiled benignantly 
 upon the moss-incrusted statues, a proceeding that was, 
 beyond any reasonable doubt, prompted by his happiness 
 rather than by the artistic merits of the postured images, 
 since they constituted a formidable and broken-nosed col 
 lection of the most cumbrous, the most incredible, and the 
 most hideous instances of sculpture the family of Puy 
 sange had been able to accumulate for, as the phrase is, 
 love or money. Amid these mute, gray travesties of an 
 tiquity and the tastes of his ancestors, the Due de 
 Puysange exulted. 
 
264 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Ma foi, will life never learn to improve upon the ex 
 travagancies of romance? Why, it is the old story, 
 the hackneyed story of the husband and wife who fall in 
 love with each other! Life is a very gross plagiarist. 
 And she did she think I had forgotten how I gave her 
 that little locket so long ago? Eh, ma femme, so some 
 one some one who cannot be alluded to without a 
 pause and an adorable flush presented you with your 
 locket ! Nay, love is not always blind !" 
 
 The Duke paused before a puff- jawed Triton, who 
 wallowed in an arid basin and uplifted toward heaven 
 what an indulgent observer might construe as a broken 
 conch-shell. "Love! Mon Dieu, how are the superior 
 fallen ! I have not the decency to conceal even from my 
 self that I love my wife! I am shameless, I had as lief 
 proclaim it from the house-tops. And a month ago 
 tarare, the ignorant beast I was ! Moreover, at that time 
 I had not passed a month in her company, eh bien, I 
 defy Diogenes and Timon to come through such a testing 
 with unscratched hearts. I love her. And she loves 
 me!" 
 
 He drew a deep breath, and he lifted his comely hands 
 toward the pale spring sky, where the west wind was 
 shepherding a sluggish flock of clouds. "O sun, moon, 
 and stars !" de Puysange said, aloud ; "I call you to wit 
 ness that she loves me ! Always she has loved me ! O 
 kindly little universe ! O little kings, tricked out with 
 garish crowns and sceptres, you are masters of your petty 
 kingdoms, but I am master of her heart! 
 
 "I do not deserve it," he conceded, to a dilapidated 
 faun, who, though his flute and the hands that held it had 
 been missing for over a quarter of a century, piped on 
 
HEART OF GOLD 265 
 
 with unimpaired and fatuous mirth. "Ah, heart of gold 
 demented trinket that you are, I have not merited that 
 you should retain my likeness all these years! If I had 
 my deserts parbleu! let us accept such benefits as the 
 gods provide, and not question the wisdom of their dis 
 pensations. What man of forty-three may dare to ask 
 for his deserts? No, we prefer instead the dealings of 
 blind chance and all the gross injustices by which so 
 many of us escape hanging" .... 
 
 VI 
 
 "So madame has visitors? Eh bien, let us, then, be 
 hold these naughty visitors, who would sever a husband 
 from his wife !" 
 
 From within the Red Salon came a murmur of speech, 
 quiet, cordial, colorless, which showed very plainly 
 that madame had visitors. As the Due de Puysange 
 reached out his hand to draw aside the portieres, 
 her voice was speaking, courteously, but without vital 
 interest. 
 
 " and afterward," said she, "weather permitting " 
 
 "Ah, Helene!" cried a voice that the Duke knew almost 
 as well, "how long am I to be held at arm s-length by 
 these petty conventionalities? Is candor never to be 
 permitted ?" 
 
 The half -drawn portiere trembled in the Duke s grasp. 
 He could see, from where he stood, the inmates of the 
 salon, though their backs were turned. They were his 
 wife and the Marquis de Soyecourt. The Marquis bent 
 eagerly toward the Duchesse de Puysange, who had risen 
 as he spoke. 
 
266 GALLANTRY 
 
 For a moment she stayed as motionless as her perplexed 
 husband; then, with a wearied sigh, the Duchess sank 
 back into a fauteuil. "You are at liberty to speak," she 
 said, slowly, and with averted glance "what you 
 choose." 
 
 The portiere fell; but between its folds the Duke still 
 peered into the room, where de Soyecourt had drawn 
 nearer to the Duke s wife. "There is so little to say," 
 the Marquis murmured, "beyond what my eyes have 
 surely revealed a great while ago that I love you." 
 
 "Ah !" the Duchess cried, with a swift intaking of the 
 breath which was almost a sob. "Monsieur, I think you 
 forget that you are speaking to the wife of your kinsman 
 and your friend." 
 
 The Marquis threw out his hands in a gesture which 
 was theatrical, though the trouble that wrung his coun 
 tenance seemed very real. He was, as one has said, a 
 slight, fair man, with the face of an ecclesiastic and the 
 eyes of an aging seraph. A dull pang shot through the 
 Duke as he thought of the two years difference in their 
 ages, and of his own tendency to embonpoint, and of the 
 dismal features which calumniated him. Yonder porce 
 lain fellow was in appearance so incredibly young! 
 
 "Do you consider," said the Marquis, "that I do not 
 know I act an abominable part? Honor, friendship and 
 even decency! ah, I regret their sacrifice, but love is 
 greater than these petty things!" 
 
 The Duchess sighed. "For my part," she returned, "I 
 think differently. Love is, doubtless, very wonderful 
 and beautiful, but I am sufficiently old-fashioned to hold 
 honor yet dearer. Even even if I loved you, monsieur, 
 
HEART OF GOLD 267 
 
 there are certain promises, sworn before the altar, that I 
 could not forget/ She looked up, candidly, into the 
 flushed, handsome face of the Marquis. 
 
 "Words !" he cried, with vexed impatiency. 
 
 "An oath," she answered, sadly, "an oath that I may 
 not break." 
 
 There was hunger in the Marquis eyes, and his hands 
 lifted. Their glances met for a breathless moment, and 
 his eyes were tender, and her eyes were resolute, but very, 
 very compassionate. 
 
 "I love you !" he said. He said no more than this, but 
 none could doubt he spoke the truth. 
 
 "Monsieur," the Duchess replied, and the depths of her 
 contralto voice were shaken like the sobbing of a violin, 
 and her hands stole upward to her bosom, and clasped 
 the gold heart, as she spoke, "monsieur, ever since I first 
 knew you, many years ago, at my father s home, I have 
 held you as my friend. You were more kind to the girl, 
 Monsieur de Soyecourt, than you have been to the wom 
 an. Yet only since our stay in Poictesme yonder have 
 I feared for the result of our friendship. I have tried 
 to prevent this result. I have failed." The Duchess 
 lifted the gold heart to her lips, and her golden head 
 bent over it. "Monsieur, before God, if I had loved 
 you with my whole being, if I had loved you all these 
 years, if the sight of your face were to me to-day the 
 one good thing life holds, and the mere sound of your 
 voice had power to set my heart to beating beating" 
 she paused for a little, and then rose, with a sharp breath 
 that shook her slender body visibly, "even then, my 
 Louis, the answer would be the same; and that is, go!" 
 
268 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Helene !" he murmured ; and his outstretched hands, 
 which trembled, groped toward her. 
 
 "Let us have no misunderstanding," she protested, 
 more composedly; "you have my answer." 
 
 De Soyecourt did not, at mildest, lead an immaculate 
 life. But by the passion that now possessed him the tiny 
 man seemed purified and transfigured beyond masculinity. 
 His face was ascetic in its reverence as he waited there, 
 with his head slightly bowed. "I go," he said, at last, 
 as if picking his way carefully among tumbling words; 
 then bent over her hand, which she made no effort to 
 withdraw. "Ah, my dear!" cried the Marquis, staring 
 into her shy, uplifted eyes, "I think I might have made 
 you happy!" 
 
 His arm brushed the elbow of the Duke as de Soyecourt 
 left the salon. The Marquis seemed aware of nothing: 
 the misery of both the men, as de Puysange reflected, was 
 of a sort to be disturbed by nothing less noticeable than 
 an earthquake. 
 
 VII 
 
 " If I had loved you all these years/ " murmured the 
 Due de Puysange. His dull gaze wandered toward the 
 admirable "Herodias" of Giorgione which hung there 
 in the corridor : the strained face of the woman, the ac 
 cented muscles of her arms, the purple, bellying cloak 
 which spread behind her, the livid countenance of the 
 dead man staring up from the salver, all these he noted, 
 idly. It seemed strange that he should be appraising a 
 painting at this particular moment. 
 
 "Well, now I will make recompense," said the Duke. 
 
HEART OF GOLD 269 
 
 VIII 
 
 He came into the room, humming a tune of the boule 
 vards; the crimson hangings swirled about him, the fur 
 niture swayed in aerial and thin-legged minuets. He 
 sank into a chair before the great mirror, supported by 
 frail love-gods, who contended for its possession. He 
 viewed therein his pale and grotesque reflection, and he 
 laughed lightly. "Pardon, madame," he said, "but my 
 castles in the air are tumbling noisily about my ears. It 
 is difficult to think clearly amid the crashing of the 
 battlements." 
 
 "I do not understand." The Duchess had lifted a 
 rather grave and quite incurious face as he entered the 
 salon. 
 
 "My life," laughed the Due de Puysange, "I assure you 
 I am quite incorrigible. I have just committed another 
 abominable action; and I cry peccavi!" He smote him 
 self upon the breast, and sighed portentously. "I accuse 
 myself of eavesdropping." 
 
 "What is your meaning?" She had now risen to her 
 feet. 
 
 "Nay, but I am requited," the Duke reassured her, and 
 laughed with discreetly tempered bitterness. "Figure to 
 yourself, madame! I had planned for us a life during 
 which our new-born friendship was always to endure un 
 tarnished. Eh bien, man proposes ! De Soyecourt is of 
 a jealous disposition ; and here I sit, amid my fallen air- 
 castles, like that tiresome Marius in his Carthaginian 
 debris." 
 
 "De Soyecourt?" she echoed, dully. 
 
270 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Ah, my poor child!" said the Duke and, rising, took 
 her hand in a paternal fashion, "did you think that, at 
 this late day, the disease of matrimony was still incur 
 able? Nay, we progress, madame. You shall have 
 grounds for a separation sufficient, unimpeachable 
 grounds. You shall have your choice of desertion, in 
 fidelity, cruelty in the presence of witnesses oh, I shall 
 prove a veritable Gilles de Retz !" He laughed, not 
 unkindlily, at her bewilderment. 
 
 "You heard everything?" she queried. 
 
 "I have already confessed," the Duke reminded her. 
 "And speaking as an unprejudiced observer, I would say 
 the little man really loves you. So be it ! You shall have 
 your separation, you shall marry him in all honor and 
 respectability; and if everything goes well, you shall be 
 a grand duchess one of these days Behold a fact accom 
 plished!" De Puysange snapped his fingers and made a 
 pirouette ; he began to hum, "Songez de bonne a suivre " 
 
 There was a little pause. 
 
 "You, in truth, desire to restore to me my freedom?" 
 she asked, in wonder, and drew near to him. 
 
 The Due de Puysange seated himself, with a smile. 
 "Mon Dieu!" he protested, "who am I to keep lovers 
 apart? As the first proof of our new-sworn friendship, 
 I hereby offer you any form of abuse or of maltreatment 
 you may select." 
 
 She drew yet nearer to him. Afterward, with a sigh 
 PS if of great happiness, her arms clasped about his neck. 
 "Mountebank! do you, then, love me very much?" 
 
 "I ?" The Duke raised his eyebrows. Yet, he reflect 
 ed, there was really no especial harm in drawing his cheek 
 
HEART OF GOLD 271 
 
 a trifle closer to hers, and he found the contact to be that 
 of cool velvet. 
 
 "You love me!" she repeated, softly. 
 
 "It pains me to the heart," the Duke apologized "it 
 pains me, pith and core, to be guilty of this rudeness to 
 a lady; but, after all, honesty is a proverbially recom 
 mended virtue, and so I must unblushingly admit I do 
 nothing of the sort." 
 
 "Gaston, why will you not confess to your new friend ? 
 Have I not pardoned other amorous follies?" Her 
 cheeks were warmer now, and softer than those of any 
 other woman in the world. 
 
 "Eh, ma mie," cried the Duke, warningly, "do not be 
 unduly elated by little Louis avowal! You are a very- 
 charming person, but de gustibus " 
 
 "Gaston !" she murmured. 
 
 "Ah, what is one to do with such a woman!" De 
 Puysange put her from him, and he paced the room with 
 quick, unequal strides. 
 
 "Yes, I love you with every nerve and fibre of my 
 body with every not unworthy thought and aspiration 
 of my misguided soul! There you have the ridiculous 
 truth of it, the truth which makes me the laughing-stock 
 of well bred persons for all time. I adore you. I love 
 you, I cherish you sufficiently to resign you to the man 
 your heart has chosen. I But pardon me," and he 
 swept a white hand over his brow, with a little, choking 
 laugh, "since I find this new emotion somewhat boister 
 ous. It stifles one unused to it." 
 
 She faced him, inscrutably; but her eyes were deep 
 wells of gladness. "Monsieur," she said, "yours is a 
 
272 GALLANTRY 
 
 noble affection. I will not palter with it. I accept your 
 offer" 
 
 "Madame, you act with your usual wisdom," said the 
 Duke. 
 
 " Upon condition," she continued, "that you resume 
 your position as eavesdropper." 
 
 The Duke obeyed her pointing finger. When he had 
 reached the portieres, the proud, black-visaged man 
 looked back into the salon, wearily. She had seated her 
 self in the fauteuil, where the Marquis de Soyecourt had 
 bent over her and she had kissed the little gold locket. 
 Her back was turned toward her husband ; but their eyes 
 met in the great mirror, supported by frail love-gods, who 
 contended for its possession. 
 
 "Comedy for comedy," she murmured. He wondered 
 what purblind fool had called her eyes sea-cold? 
 
 "I do not understand," he said. "You saw me all the 
 while Yes, but the locket ?" cried de Puysange. 
 
 "Open it!" she answered, and her speech, too, was 
 breathless. 
 
 Under his heel the Due de Puysange ground the trinket. 
 The long, thin chain clashed and caught about his foot; 
 the face of his youth smiled from the fragment in his 
 not quite steady hands. "O heart of gold ! O heart of 
 gold !" he said, with a strange meditative smile, now that 
 his eyes lifted toward the glad and glorious eyes of his 
 wife; "I am not worthy! Indeed, my dear, I am not 
 worthy !" 
 
IX 
 
 THE SCAPEGOATS 
 
 As Played at Manneville, September 18, 1750 
 
 "Uon a choisi justement le temps que je parlois a mon 
 traiste de fils. Sortons! Je veux oiler querir la justice, 
 et faire donner la question a toutc ma maison; a servantes, 
 a valets, a fils, a fille, et a moi aussi." 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 PRINCE DE GATINAIS, an old nobleman, who affects yes 
 terday s fashion. 
 
 Louis QUILLAN, formerly Louis DE SOYECOURT, son to 
 the Prince, and newly become GRAND DUKE OF 
 
 NOUMARIA. 
 
 VANRINGHAM, valet to the Prince. 
 
 NELCHEN THORN, daughter to Hans Thorn, landlord ofj A 
 the Golden Pomegranate, and loves Louis Quillan. |^| 
 
 And in the Proem, DUKE OF ORMSKIRK. 
 
 SCENE 
 
 The Dolphin Room of the Golden Pomegranate, an inn at 
 Manneville-en-Poictesme. 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 
 PROEM: To Present Mr. Vanringham as Nuntius 
 
 HOWEVER profoundly the Due cle Puysange now 
 approved of the universe and of its manage 
 ment, it is not to be supposed that in consequence 
 he intended to overlook de Soyecourt s perfidy. De Puy 
 sange bore his kinsman no malice; indeed, he was sin 
 cerely fond of the Marquis, sympathized with him at bot 
 tom, and heartily regretted that the excellence of poor 
 Louis taste should be thus demonstrably counterbal 
 anced by the frailty of his friendship. Still, one cannot 
 entirely disregard the conventions: Louis had betrayed 
 him, had before the eyes of de Puysange made love to de 
 Puysange s wife. A duel was the inevitable consequence, 
 though of course the Duke did not intend to kill poor 
 Louis, who might before long be very useful to French 
 statesmanship. So the Duke sent Ormskirk to arrange 
 a meeting. 
 
 A floridly handsome man in black was descending the 
 stairway of the Hotel de Soyecourt at the moment the 
 Duke of Ormskirk stepped cheerily from his coach. This 
 person saluted the plump nobleman with due deference, 
 and was accorded in return a little whistling sound of 
 amazement. 
 
 "Mr. Vanringham, as I live and in Paris ! Man, will 
 you hare-brainecT Jacobites never have done with these 
 idiotic intrigues? Nay, in sincerity, Mr. Vanringham, 
 this is annoying." 
 
 275 
 
276 GALLANTRY 
 
 "My Lord Duke," said the other, "I venture to suggest 
 that you forget I dare no longer meddle with politics, in 
 light of my recent mishap at Tunbridge. Something of 
 the truth leaked out, you comprehend nothing provable, 
 thank God! but while I lay abed Captain Audaine was 
 calling daily to inquire when would my wound be healed 
 sufficiently for me to have my throat cut. I found Eng 
 land unsalubrious, and vanished." 
 
 Ormskirk nodded his approval. "I have always es 
 teemed your common-sense. Now, let us consider yes, 
 I might use you here in Paris, I believe. And the work 
 is light and safe, a trifle of sedition, of stirring up a 
 street riot or two." 
 
 Vanringham laughed. "I might have recognized your 
 hand in the late disturbances, sir. As matters stand, I 
 can only thank your Grace and regret that I have earlier 
 secured employment. I ve been, since April, valet to the 
 old Prince de Gatinais, Monsieur de Soyecourt s father." 
 
 "Yet lackeyship smacks, however vaguely, of an honest 
 livelihood. You disappoint me, Mr. Vanringham." 
 
 "Nay, believe me, I yet pilfer a cuff-button or perhaps 
 a jewel, when occasion offers, lest any of my talents rust. 
 For we reside at Beaujolais yonder, my Lord Duke, 
 where we live in retirement and give over our old age to 
 curious chemistries. It suits me well enough. I find 
 the air of Beaujolais excellent, my duties none too ardu 
 ous, and the girls of the country-side neither hideous nor 
 obdurate. Oho, I m tolerably content at Beaujolais the 
 more for that tis expedient just now to go more softly 
 than ever Ahab did of old." 
 
 "Lest your late associates get wind of your where 
 abouts? In that I don t question your discretion, Mr. 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 277 
 
 Vanringham. And out of pure friendliness I warn you 
 Paris is a very hotbed of hot-headed Jacobites who would 
 derive unmerited pleasure from getting a knife into your 
 ribs." 
 
 "Yet on an occasion of such importance " Vanring 
 ham began; then marvelled in reply to the Duke s look 
 of courteous curiosity: "You han t heard, sir, that my 
 master s son is unexpectedly become the next Grand Duke 
 of Noumaria!" 
 
 "Zounds !" said his Grace of Ormskirk, all alert, "is old 
 Ludwig dead at last? Why, then, the damned must be 
 holding a notable carnival by this, in honor of his arrival. 
 Hey, but there was a merry rascal, a thorough-paced " 
 He broke off short. He laughed. "What the devil,. 
 man ! Monsieur de Soyecourt is Ludwig s nephew, I grant 
 you, on the maternal side, but Ludwig left a son. De 
 Soyecourt remains de Soyecourt so long as Prince Ru 
 dolph lives, and Prince Rudolph is to marry the Elector 
 of Badenburg s daughter this autumn, so that we may 
 presently look for any number of von Freistadts to per 
 petuate the older branch. Faith, you should study your 
 Genealogischer Hofkalender more closely, Mr. Van 
 ringham." 
 
 "Oh, but very plainly your Grace has heard no word 
 of the appalling tragedy that hath made our little Louis 
 a reigning monarch " 
 
 With gusto Francis Vanringham narrated the details 
 of Duke Ludwig s last mad freak 1 which, as the world 
 
 1 In his Journal Horace Calverley gives a long and curious ac 
 count of the disastrous masque at Breschau of which he, then 
 on the Grand Tour, had the luck to be an eye-witness. His hints 
 as to the part played in the affair by Kaunitz are now, of course, 
 largely discredited by the later confessions of de Puysange. 
 
273 GALLANTRY 
 
 knows, resulted in the death of both Ludwig and his son, 
 as well as that of their five companions in the escapade, 
 with gusto, for in progress the soul of the former actor 
 warmed to his subject. But Ormskirk was sensibly 
 displeased. 
 
 "Behold what is termed a pretty kettle of fish !" said 
 the Duke, in meditation, when Vanringham had made an 
 end. "Plainly, Gaston cannot fight the rascal, since 
 Hop-o -my-thumb is now, most vexatiously, transformed 
 into a quasi-Royal Personage. Assassination, I fear, is 
 out of the question. So all our English plans will go to 
 pot. A Frenchman will reign in Noumaria, after we 
 had not only bought old Ludwig, but had paid for him, 
 too ! Why, I suppose he gave that damnable masquerade 
 on the strength of having our money, good English 
 money, mark you, Mr. Vanringham, that we have to 
 squeeze out of honest tax-payers to bribe such rascals 
 with, only to have them cheat us by cooking themselves 
 to a crisp! This is annoying, Mr. Vanringham." 
 
 "I don t entirely follow your Grace " 
 
 "It is not perhaps desirable you should. Yet I give 
 you a key. It is profoundly to be deplored that little 
 Louis de Soyecourt, who cannot draw a contented breath 
 outside of his beloved Paris, should be forced to marry 
 Victoria von Uhm, in his cousin s place, yes, for Gaston 
 will arrange that, of course, and afterward be exiled to 
 a semi-barbarous Noumaria, where he must devote the 
 rest of his existence to heading processions and reviewing 
 troops, and signing proclamations and guzzling beer and 
 sauerkraut. Nay, beyond doubt, Mr. Vanringham, this is 
 deplorable. Tis an appalling condition of affairs : it re 
 minds me of Ovid among the Goths, Mr. Vanringham !" 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 279 
 
 "I m to understand, then ?" the valet stammered. 
 
 "You are to understand that I am more deeply your 
 debtor than I could desire you to believe ; that I am going 
 to tell the Marquis de Soyecourt all which I have told 
 you, though I must reword it for him as eloquently as 
 may be possible; and that I even now feel myself to be 
 Ciceronic." The Duke of Ormskirk passed on with a 
 polite nod. 
 
 Next day they gossiped busily at Versailles over the 
 sudden disappearance of Louis de Soyecourt. No more 
 was heard of him, for months. The mystery was dis 
 cussed, and by the wits embroidered, and by the imag 
 inative annotated, but it was never solved until the fol 
 lowing September. 
 
 For it was in September that, upon the threshold of 
 the Golden Pomegranate, at Manneville in Poictesme, 
 Monsieur Louis Quillan paused, and gave the contented 
 little laugh which had of late become habitual with him. 
 "We are en fete to-night, it appears. Has the King, 
 then, by any chance dropped in to supper with us, 
 Nelchen?" 
 
 Silently the girl bestowed a provisional pat upon one 
 fold of the white table-cloth and regarded the result with 
 critical approval. All being in blameless order, she 
 moved one of the candlesticks the width of a needle. The 
 table was now garnished to the last resource of the Golden 
 Pomegranate: the napery was snow, the glassware and 
 the cutlery shone with a frosty glitter, and the great bowl 
 
280 GALLANTRY 
 
 of crimson roses afforded the exact splurge of vainglori 
 ous color and glow she had designed. Accordingly, be 
 ing now at leisure, Nelchen now came toward Monsieur 
 Quillan, lifting her lips to his precisely as a child might 
 have done. 
 
 "Not quite the King, my Louis. None the less I am 
 sure that Monseigneur is an illustrious person. He ar 
 rived not two hours ago " She told how Monseigneur 
 had come in a coach, very splendid ; even his lackeys were 
 resplendent. Monseigneur would stay overnight and 
 would to-morrow push on to Beauseant. He had talked 
 with her, a kindly old gentleman, but so stately that all 
 the while she had been the tiniest thought afraid of him. 
 He must be some exalted nobleman, Nelchen considered, 
 a marquis at the very least. 
 
 Meantime diminutive Louis Quillan had led her to 
 the window-seat beneath the corridor, and sat holding one 
 plump trifle of a hand, the while her speech fluttered bird- 
 like from this topic to that; and he regarded Nelchen 
 Thorn with an abysmal content. The fates, he consid 
 ered, had been commendably generous to him. 
 
 So he leaned back from her a little, laughing gently, 
 and marked what a quaint and eager child it was. He 
 rejoiced that she was beautiful, and triumphed still more 
 to know that even if she had not been beautiful it would 
 have made slight difference to him. The soul of Nelchen 
 was enough. Yet, too, it was desirable this soul should 
 be appropriately clad, that she should have, for instance, 
 these big and lustrous eyes, plaintive eyes, such as a 
 hamadryad would conceivably possess, since they were 
 beyond doubt the candid and appraising eyes of some 
 woodland creature, and always seemed to find the world 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 281 
 
 not precisely intimidating, perhaps, yet in the ultimate 
 a very curious place where one trod gingerly. Still, this 
 Nelchen was a practical body, prone to laughter, as in 
 nature, any person would be whose mouth was all rotund 
 and tiny scarlet curves. Why, it was, to a dimple, the 
 mouth which Frangois Boucher bestowed on his sleek 
 goddesses! Louis Quillan was sorry for poor Boucher 
 painting away yonder at a noisy garish Versailles, where 
 he would never see that perfect mouth the artist had so 
 often dreamed of. No, not in the sweet flesh at least; 
 lips such as these were unknown at Versailles. . . . 
 
 And but four months ago he had fancied himself to be 
 in love with Helene de Puysange, he remembered; and, 
 by and large, he still considered Helene a delightful per 
 son. Yes, Helene had made him quite happy last spring : 
 and when they found she was with child, and their first 
 plan failed, she had very adroitly played out their com 
 edy to win back Gastori in time to avoid scandal. Yes, 
 you could not but admire Helene, yet, even so. ... 
 
 " and he asked me, oh, so many questions about you, 
 Louis" 
 
 "About me?" said Louis Quillan, blankly. He was all 
 circumspection now. 
 
 "About my lover, you stupid person. Monseigneur 
 assumed, somehow, that I would have a lover or two. 
 You perceive that he at least is not a stupid person." 
 And Nelchen tossed her head, with a touch of the 
 provocative. 
 
 Louis Quillan did what seemed advisable. " and, 
 furthermore, your stupidity is no excuse for rumpling 
 my hair," said Nelchen, by and by. 
 
 "Then you should not pout," replied Monsieur Quillan. 
 
282 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Sanity is entirely too much to require of any man when 
 you pout. Besides, your eyes are so big and so bright 
 they bewilder one. In common charity you ought to 
 wear spectacles, Nelchen, in sheer compassion toward 
 mankind." 
 
 "Monseigneur, also, has wonderful eyes, Louis. They 
 are like the stars, very brilliant and cool and incurious, 
 yet always looking at you as though you were so insig 
 nificant that the mere fact of your presuming to exist at 
 all was a trifle interesting." 
 
 "Like the stars !" Louis Quillan had flung back the 
 shutter. It was a tranquil evening in September, with 
 no moon as yet, but with a great multitude of lesser lights 
 overhead. "Incurious like the stars! They do dwarf 
 one, rather. Yet just now I protest to you, infinitesimal 
 man that I am, I half -believe le bon Dieu loves us so 
 utterly that He has kindled all those pretty tapers solely 
 for our diversion. He wishes us to be happy, Nelchen ; 
 and so He has given us the big, fruitful, sweet-smelling 
 world to live in, and our astonishing human bodies to 
 live in, with contented hearts, and with no more vain de 
 sires, no loneliness Why, in a word, He has given 
 us each other. Oh, beyond doubt, He loves us, my 
 Nelchen!" 
 
 For a long while the girl was silent. Presently she 
 spoke, half-hushed, like one in the presence of sanctity. 
 "I am happy. For these three months I have been more 
 happy than I had thought was permissible on earth. And 
 yet, Louis, you tell me that those stars are worlds per 
 haps like ours, think of it, my dear, millions and mil 
 lions of worlds like ours, and on each world perhaps a 
 million of lovers like us ! It is true that among them all 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 283 
 
 no woman loves as I do, for that would be impossible. 
 Yet think of it, mon ami, how inconsiderable a thing is 
 the happiness of one man and of one woman in this im 
 mensity ! Why, we are less than nothing, you and I ! 
 Ohe, I am afraid, hideously afraid, Louis, for we are 
 such little folk and the universe is so big. And always 
 the storms go about it, and its lightnings thrust at us, 
 and the waters of it are clutching at our feet, and its 
 laws are not to be changed Oh, it is big and cruel, my 
 dear, and we are adrift in it, we who are so little!" 
 
 He again put forth his hand toward her. "What a 
 morbid child it is !" said Louis Quillan. "I can assure 
 you I have resided in this same universe just twice as 
 long as you, and I find that upon the whole the establish 
 ment is very creditably conducted. There arrives, to be 
 sure, an occasional tornado, or perhaps an earthquake, 
 each with its incidental inconveniences. On the other 
 hand, there is every evening a lavishly arranged sunset, 
 like gratis fireworks, and each morning ( I am credibly in 
 formed) a sunrise of which poets and energetic people 
 are pleased to speak highly ; while every year spring 
 comes in, like a cosmical upholsterer, and refurnishes the 
 entire place, and makes us glad to live. Nay, I protest 
 to you, this is an excellent world, my Nelchen ! and like 
 wise I protest to you that in its history there was never a 
 luckier nor a happier man than I." 
 
 Nelchen considered. "Well," she generously conceded ; 
 "perhaps, after all, the stars are more like diamonds." 
 
 Louis Quillan chuckled. "And since when were you a 
 connoisseur of diamonds, my dear?" 
 
 "Of course I have never actually seen any. I would 
 like to, though yes, Louis, what I would really like 
 
284 GALLANTRY 
 
 would be to have a bushel ful or so of diamonds, and 
 to marry a duke only the duke would have to be you, 
 of course, and to go to Court, and to have all the fine 
 ladies very jealous of me, and for them to be very much 
 in love with you, and for you not to care a sou for them, 
 of course, and for us both to see the King." Nelchen 
 paused, quite out of breath after this ambitious career in 
 the imaginative. 
 
 "To see the King, indeed !" scoffed little Louis Quillan. 
 "Why, we would see only a very disreputable pock 
 marked wornout lecher if we did." 
 
 "Still," she pointed out, "I would like to see a king. 
 Simply because I never have done so before, you 
 conceive." 
 
 "At times, my Nelchen, you are effeminate. Eve ate 
 the apple for that identical reason. Yet what you say is 
 odd, because do you know? I once had a friend who 
 was by way of being a sort of king." 
 
 Nelchen gave a squeal of delight. "And you never told 
 me about him ! I loathe you." 
 
 Louis Quillan did what seemed advisable. " and, 
 furthermore, your loathsomeness is no excuse for rum 
 pling my hair," said Nelchen, by and by. 
 
 "But there is so little to tell. His father had married 
 the Grand Duke of Noumaria s daughter, over yonder 
 between Silesia and Badenburg, you may remember. 
 And so last spring when the Grand Duke and the Prince 
 were both killed in that horrible fire, my friend quite un 
 expectedly became a king oh, king of a mere celery- 
 patch, but still a sort of king. Figure to yourself, 
 Nelchen ! they were going to make my poor friend marry 
 the Elector of Badenburg s daughter, and Victoria von 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 285 
 
 Uhm has perfection stamped upon her face in all its 
 odious immaculacy, and force him to devote the rest of 
 his existence to heading processions and reviewing troops, 
 and signing proclamations, and guzzling beer and sauer 
 kraut. Why, he would have been like Ovid among the 
 Goths, my Nelchen!" 
 
 "But he could have worn such splendid uniforms!" 
 said Nelchen. "And diamonds!" 
 
 "You mercenary wretch!" said he. Louis Quillan 
 then did what seemed advisable; and presently he added, 
 "In any event, the horrified man ran away." 
 
 "That was silly of him," said Nelchen Thorn. "But 
 where did he run to?" 
 
 Louis Quillan considered. "To Paradise," he at last 
 decided. "And there he found a disengaged angel, who 
 very imprudently lowered herself to the point of marrying 
 him. And so he lived happily ever afterward. And so, 
 till the day of his death, he preached the doctrine that 
 silliness is the supreme wisdom." 
 
 "And he regretted nothing?" Nelchen said, after a 
 meditative while. 
 
 Louis Quillan began to laugh. "Oh, yes! at times he 
 profoundly regretted Victoria von Uhm." 
 
 Then Nelchen gave him a surprise, for the girl bent 
 toward him and leaned one hand upon each shoulder. 
 "Diamonds are not all, are they, Louis? I thank you, 
 dear, for telling me of what means so much to you. I 
 can understand, I think, because for a long while I have 
 tried to know and care for everything that concerns you." 
 
 The little man had risen to his feet. "Nelchen!" 
 
 "Hush !" said Nelchen Thorn ; "Monseigneur is coming 
 down to his supper." 
 
286 GALLANTRY 
 
 II 
 
 It was a person of conspicuous appearance, both by 
 reason of his great height and leanness as well as his 
 extreme age, who now descended the straight stairway 
 leading from the corridor above. At Court they would 
 have told you that the Prince de Gatinais was a trifle in 
 sane, but he troubled the Court very little, since he had 
 spent the last twenty years, with brief intermissions, at 
 his chateau near Beaujolais, where, as rumor buzzed it, 
 he had fitted out a laboratory, and had devoted his old age 
 to the study of chemistry. "Between my flute and my 
 retorts, my bees and my chocolate-creams," the Prince 
 was wont to say, "I manage to console myself for the 
 humiliating fact that even Death has forgotten my ex 
 istence." For he had a child s appetite for sweets, and 
 was at this time past eighty, though still well-nigh as 
 active as Antoine de Soyecourt had ever been, even when 
 a good half-century ago he had served, with distinc 
 tion, under Louis Quatorze. 
 
 To-night the Prince de Gatinais was all in steel-gray, 
 of a metallic lustre, with prodigiously fine ruffles at his 
 throat and wrists. You would have found something 
 spectral in the tall, gaunt old man, for his periwig was 
 heavily powdered, and his deep-wrinkled countenance 
 was of an absolute white, save for the thin, faintly bluish 
 lips and the inklike glitter of his narrowing eyes, as he 
 now regarded the couple waiting hand in hand before 
 him, like children detected in mischief. 
 
 Little Louis Quillan had drawn an audible breath at 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 287 
 
 first sight of the newcomer. Monsieur Quillan did not 
 speak, however, but merely waited. 
 
 "You have fattened," the Prince de Gatinais said, at 
 last. "I wish I could fatten. It is incredible that a man 
 who eats pounds of sugar daily should yet remain a 
 skeleton." His voice was guttural, and a peculiar slur 
 ran through his speech, caused by the loss of his upper 
 front teeth at Ramillies. 
 
 Louis Quillan came of a stock not lightly abashed. "I 
 have fattened on a new diet, monsieur, on happiness. 
 But, ma foi ! I am discourteous. Permit me, my father, 
 to present Mademoiselle Nelchen Thorn, who has so far 
 honored me as to consent to become my wife. Nelchen, 
 I present to you my father, the Prince de Gatinais." 
 
 "Oh ?" observed Nelchen, midway in her courtesy. 
 
 But the Prince had taken her ringers and he kissed them 
 quite as though they had been the finger-tips of the all- 
 powerful Pompadour at Versailles yonder. "I salute the 
 future Marquise de Soyecourt. You young people will 
 sup with me, then ?" 
 
 "No, monseigneur, for I am to wait upon the table," 
 said Nelchen, "and Father is at Sigean overnight, having 
 the mare shod, and there is only Leon, and, oh, thank you 
 very much indeed, monseigneur, but I had much rather 
 wait on the table." 
 
 The Prince waved his hand. "My valet, mademoiselle, 
 is at your disposal. Vanringham !" he called. 
 
 From the corridor above descended a tall red-headed 
 fellow in black. "Monseigneur ?" 
 
 "Go!" quickly said Louis de Soyecourt, while the 
 Prince spoke with his valet, "go, Nelchen, and make 
 
288 GALLANTRY 
 
 yourself even more beautiful if such a thing be possible. 
 He will never resist you, my dear ah, no, that is out 
 of nature." 
 
 "You will find more plates in the cupboard, Monsieur 
 Vanringham," remarked Nelchen, as she obediently 
 tripped up the stairway, toward her room in the right 
 wing. "And the knives and forks are in the second 
 drawer." 
 
 So Vanringham laid two covers in discreet silence ; then 
 bowed and withdrew by the side door that led to the 
 kitchen. The Prince had seated himself beside the open- 
 fire, where he yawned and now looked up with a smile. 
 
 "Well, Louis," said the Prince de Gatinais "so Mon 
 sieur de Puysange and I have run you to earth at last. 
 And I find you have determined to defy me, eh ?" 
 
 Ill 
 
 "I trust there is no question of defiance," Louis de 
 Soyecourt equably returned. "Yet I regret you should 
 have been at pains to follow me, since I still claim the 
 privilege of living out my life in my own fashion." 
 
 "You claim a right which never existed, my little son. 
 It is not demanded of any man that he be happy, whereas 
 it is manifestly necessary for a gentleman to obey his 
 God, his King, and his own conscience without swerving. 
 If he also find time for happiness, well and good; other 
 wise, he must be unhappy. But, above all, he must in 
 trepidly play out his allotted part in the good God s 
 scheme of things, and must with due humbleness rec 
 ognize that the happiness or the unhappiness of any man 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 289 
 
 alive is a trivial consideration as against the fulfilment 
 of this scheme." 
 
 "You and Nelchen are much at one there," the Marquis 
 lightly replied ; "yet, for my part, I fancy that Providence 
 is not particularly interested in who happens to be the 
 next Grand Duke of Noumaria." 
 
 The Prince struck with his hand upon the arm of 
 his chair. "You dare to jest! Louis, your levity is in 
 corrigible. France is beaten, discredited among nations, 
 naked to her enemies. She lies here, between England 
 and Prussia, as in a vise. God summons you, a French 
 man, to reign in Noumaria, and in addition affords you 
 a chance to marry that weathercock of Badenburg s 
 daughter. Ah, He never spoke more clearly, Louis. 
 And you would reply with a shallow jest ! Why, Baden- 
 burg and Noumaria just bridge that awkward space be 
 tween France and Austria. Your accession would con 
 firm the Empress, Gaston de Puysange has it in her own 
 hand, yonder at Versailles! I tell you it is all planned 
 that France and Austria will combine, Louis ! Think of 
 it, our France on her feet again, mistress of Europe, 
 and every whit of it your doing, Louis, ah, my boy, my 
 boy, you cannot refuse!" 
 
 Thus he ran on in a high, disordered voice, pleading, 
 clutching at his son with a strange new eagerness which 
 now possessed the Prince de Gatinais. He was remem 
 bering the France which he had known; not the ignoble, 
 tawdry France of the moment, misruled by women, rakes, 
 confessors, and valets, but the France of his dead Sun 
 King ; and it seemed to Louis de Soyecourt that the mem 
 ory had brought back with it the youth of his father for 
 
290 GALLANTRY 
 
 an instant. Just for a heart-beat, the lank man towered 
 erect, his cheeks pink, and every muscle tense. 
 
 Then Louis de Soyecourt shook his head. In Eng 
 land s interest, as he now knew, Ormskirk had played 
 upon de Soyecourt s ignorance and his love of pleasure, 
 as an adept plays upon the strings of a violin; but de 
 Soyecourt had his reason, a gigantic reason, for harboring 
 no grudge against the Englishman. 
 
 "Frankly, my father, I would not give up Nelchen 
 though all Europe depended upon it. I am a coward, 
 perhaps ; but I have my chance of happiness, and I mean 
 to take it. So Cousin Otto is welcome to the duchy. 
 I infinitely prefer Nelchen." 
 
 "Otto! a general in the Prussian army, Frederick s 
 property, Frederick s idolater!" The old Prince now 
 passed from an apex of horror to his former pleading 
 tones. "But, then, it is not necessary you give up 
 Nelchen. Ah, no, a certain latitude is permissible in 
 these matters, you understand. She could be made a 
 countess, a marquise, anything you choose to demand, 
 my Louis. And you could marry Princess Victoria just 
 the same " 
 
 "Were you any other man, monsieur," said Louis de 
 Soyecourt, "I would, of course, challenge you. As it is, 
 I can only ask you to respect my helplessness. It is very 
 actual helplessness, sir, for Nelchen has been bred in such 
 uncourtly circles as to entertain the most provincial no 
 tions about becoming anybody s whore." 
 
 Now the Prince de Gatinais sank back into the chair. 
 He seemed incredibly old now. "You are right," he 
 mumbled, "y es > you are right, Louis. I have talked 
 with her. With her that would be impossible. These 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 291 
 
 bourgeois do not understand the claims of noble birth." 
 The younger man had touched him upon the shoulder. 
 "My father," he began. 
 
 "Yes, I am your father," said the other, dully, "and it 
 is that which puzzles me. You are my own son, and yet 
 you prefer your happiness to the welfare of France, to 
 the very preservation of France. Never in six centuries 
 has there been a de Soyecourt to do that. God and the 
 King we served . . . six centuries . . . and to-day 
 my own son prefers an innkeeper s daughter. . ." His 
 voice trailed and slurred like that of one speaking in his 
 sleep, for he was an old man, and by this the flare of his 
 excitement had quite burned out, and weariness clung 
 about his senses like a drug. "I will go back to Beaujo- 
 lais ... to my retorts and my bees . . . and forget 
 there was never a de Soyecourt in six centuries, save my 
 own son ..." 
 
 "My father!" Louis de Soyecourt cried, and shook him 
 gently. "Ah, I dare say you are right, in theory. But 
 in practice I cannot give her up. Surely you understand 
 why, they tell me there was never a more ardent lover 
 than you. They tell me And you would actually have 
 me relinquish Nelchen, even after you have seen her! 
 Yet remember, monsieur, I love her much as you loved 
 my mother, that mettlesome little princess whom you 
 stole from the very heart of her court. 1 Ah, I have heard 
 tales of you, you conceive. And Nelchen means as much 
 to me as once my mother meant to you, remember She 
 means youth, and happiness, and a tiny space of laughter 
 
 1 The curious may find further details of the then Marquis de 
 Soyecourt s abduction of the Princess Clotilda in the voluminous 
 pages of Hulot, under the year 1708. 
 
292 GALLANTRY 
 
 before I, too, am worm s-meat, and means a proper ap 
 preciation of God s love for us all, and means everything 
 a man s mind clutches at when he wakens from some 
 forgotten dream that leaves him weeping with sheer 
 adoration of its beauty. Ho, never was there a kinder 
 father than you, monsieur. You have spoiled me most 
 atrociously, I concede ; and after so many years you can 
 not in decency whip about like this and deny me my very 
 life. Why, my father it is your little Louis who is plead 
 ing with you, and you have never denied me anything ! 
 See, now, how I presume upon your weakness. I am ac 
 tually bullying you into submission bullying you through 
 your love for me. Eh, we love greatly, we de Soyecourts, 
 and give all for love. Your own life attests that, mon 
 sieur. Now, then, let us recognize the fact we are de 
 Soyecourts, you and I. Ah, my father, " 
 
 Thus he babbled on, for the sudden languor of the 
 Prince had alarmed him, and Louis de Soyecourt, to 
 afford him justice, loved his father with a heartier in 
 tensity than falls to the portion of most parents. To 
 arouse the semi-conscious man was his one thought. 
 And now he got his reward, for the Prince de Gatinais 
 opened his keen old eyes, a trifle dazedly, and drew a 
 deep breath which shook his large frail body through and 
 through. 
 
 "Let us recognize that we are de Soyecourts, you and 
 I," he repeated, in a new voice. "After all, I cannot 
 drag you to Noumaria by the scruff of your neck like a 
 truant school-boy. Yes, let us recognize the fact that 
 we are de Soyecourts, you and I." 
 
 "Heh, in that event," said the Marquis, "we must both 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 293 
 
 fall upon our knees forthwith. For look, my father!" 
 Nelchen Thorn was midway in her descent of the stairs. 
 She wore her simple best. All white it was, and yet the 
 plump shoulders it displayed were not put to shame. 
 Rather must April clouds and the snows of December 
 retire abashed, as lamentably inefficient analogues, the 
 Marquis meditated; and as she paused starry-eyed and 
 a thought afraid, it seemed to him improbable that even 
 the Prince de Gatinais could find it in his heart greatly 
 to blame his son. 
 
 "I begin to suspect," said the Prince, "that I am Jacob 
 of old, and that you are a very young cherub venturing 
 out of Paradise through motives of curiosity. Eh, my 
 dear, let us see what entertainment we can afford you 
 during your visit to earth." He took her hand and led 
 her to the table. 
 
 IV 
 
 Vanringham served. Never was any one more blithe 
 than the lean Prince de Gatinais. The latest gossip of 
 Versailles was delivered, with discreet emendations; he 
 laughed gayly; and he ate with an appetite. There was 
 a blight among the cattle hereabouts ? How deplorable ! 
 witchcraft, beyond doubt. And Louis passed as a piano- 
 tuner? because there were no pianos in Manneville. 
 Excellent! he had always given Louis credit for a sur 
 passing cleverness; now it was demonstrated. In fine, 
 the Prince de Gatinais became so jovial that Nelchen was 
 quite at ease, and Louis de Soyecourt became vaguely 
 alarmed. He knew his father, and for the Prince to 
 
294 GALLANTRY 
 
 yield thus facilely was incredible. Still, his father had 
 seen Nelchen, had talked with Nelchen. . . . 
 
 Now the Prince rose. "Fresh glasses, Vanringham," 
 he ordered; and then: "I give you a toast. Through 
 desire of love and happiness, you young people have 
 stolen a march on me. Eh, I am not Sgarnarelle of the 
 comedy! therefore, I drink cheerfully to love and hap 
 piness. I consider Louis is not in the right, but I know 
 that he is wise, my daughter, as concerns his soul s health, 
 in clinging to you rather than to a tinsel crown. Of Fate 
 I have demanded like Sgarnarelle of the comedy, 
 prosaic equity and common-sense ; of Fate he has in turn 
 demanded happiness; and Fate will at her convenience 
 decide between us. Meantime I drink to love and hap 
 piness, since I, too, remember. I know better than to 
 argue with Louis, you observe, my Nelchen ; we de Soye- 
 courts are not lightly severed from any notion we may 
 have taken up. In consequence I drink to your love 
 and happiness !" 
 
 They drank. "To your love, my son," said the Prince 
 de Gatinais, "to the true love of a de Soyecourt." And 
 afterward he laughingly drank : "To your happiness, 
 my daughter, to your eternal happiness." 
 
 Nelchen sipped. The two men stood with drained 
 glasses. Now on a sudden the Prince de Gatinais groaned 
 and clutched his breast. 
 
 "I was always a glutton," he said, hoarsely. "I should 
 have been more moderate I am faint " 
 
 "Salts are the best thing in the world," said Nelchen, 
 with fine readiness. She was half-way up the stairs. 
 "A moment, monseigneur, a moment, and I fetch salts." 
 Nelchen Thorn had disappeared into her room. 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 295 
 
 The Prince sat drumming upon the table with his long 
 white fingers. He had waved the Marquis and Vanring- 
 ham aside. "A passing weakness, I am not adamant," 
 he had said, half -peevishly. 
 
 "Then I prescribe another glass of this really excellent 
 wine," laughed little Louis de Soyecourt. At heart he 
 was not merry, and his own unreasoning nervousness ir 
 ritated him, for it seemed to the Marquis, quite irration 
 ally, that the atmosphere of the cheery room was, with 
 out forerunnership, become tense and expectant, and was 
 now quiet with much the hush which precedes the burst 
 ing of a thunder-storm. And accordingly he laughed. 
 
 "I prescribe another glass, monsieur," said he. "Eh, 
 that is the true panacea for faintness for every ill. 
 Come, we will drink to the most beautiful woman in 
 Poictesme nay, I am too modest, to the most beautiful 
 woman in France, in Europe, in the whole universe ! 
 Feriam sidera, my father! and confound all mealy- 
 mouthed reticence, for you have both seen her. Con 
 fess, am I not a lucky man? Come, Vanringham, too, 
 shall drink. No glasses? Take Nelchen s, then. 
 Come, you fortunate rascal, you shall drink to the bride 
 from the bride s half -emptied glass. To the most beau 
 tiful woman Why, what the devil ?" 
 
 Vanringham had blurted out an odd, unhuman sound. 
 His extended hand shook and jerked, as if in irresolu 
 tion, and presently struck the proffered glass from de 
 Soyecourt s grasp. You heard the tiny crash, very audible 
 in the stillness, and afterward the irregular drumming of 
 
296 GALLANTRY 
 
 the old Prince s finger-tips. He had not raised his head, 
 had not moved. 
 
 Louis de Soyecourt came to him, without speaking, 
 and placed one hand under his father s chin, and lifted 
 the Prince s countenance, like a dead weight, toward his 
 own. Thus the two men regarded each the other. Their 
 silence was rather horrible. 
 
 "It was not in vain that I dabbled with chemistry all 
 these years," said the guttural voice of the Prince de 
 Gatinais. "Yes, the child is dead by this. Let us rec 
 ognize the fact we are de Soyecourts, you and I." 
 
 But Louis de Soyecourt had flung aside the passive, 
 wrinkled face, and then, with a straining gesture, wiped 
 the fingers that had touched it upon the sleeve of his left 
 arm. He turned to the stairway. His hand grasped the 
 newelpost and gripped it so firmly that he seemed less to 
 walk than by one despairing effort to lift an inert body 
 to the first step. He ascended slowly, with a queer 
 shamble, and disappeared into Nelchen s room. 
 
 VI 
 
 "What next, monseigneur ?" said Vanringham, half- 
 whispering. 
 
 "Why, next," said the Prince de Gatinais, "I imagine 
 that he will kill us both. Meantime, as Louis says, the 
 wine is really excellent. So you may refill my glass, my 
 man, and restore to me my vial of little tablets". . . . 
 
 He was selecting a bonbon from the comfit-dish when 
 his son returned into the apartment. Very tenderly 
 Louis de Soyecourt laid his burden upon a settle, and 
 then drew the older man toward it. 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 297 
 
 You noted first how the thing lacked weight : a flower 
 snapped from its stalk could hardly have seemed more 
 fragile. The loosened hair strained toward the floor and 
 seemed to have sucked all color from the thing to inform 
 that thick hair s insolent glory ; the tint of Nelchen s lips 
 was less sprightly, and for the splendor of her eyes Death 
 had substituted a conscientious copy in crayons: other 
 wise there was no change; otherwise she seemed to lie 
 there and muse on something remote and curious, yet 
 quite as she would have wished it to be. 
 
 "See, my father," Louis de Soyecourt said, "she was 
 only a child, more little even than I. Never in her brief 
 life had she wronged any one, never, I believe, had she 
 known an unkind thought. Always she laughed, you 
 understand Oh, my father, is it not pitiable that Nelchen 
 will never laugh any more?" 
 
 "I entreat of God to have mercy upon her soul," said 
 the old Prince de Gatinais. "I entreat of God that the 
 soul of her murderer may dwell eternally in the nether 
 most pit of hell." 
 
 "I would cry amen," Louis de Soyecourt said, "if I 
 could any longer believe in God." 
 
 The Prince turned toward him. "And will you kill 
 me now, Louis?" 
 
 "I cannot," said the other. "Is it not an excellent 
 jest that I should be your son and still be human? Yet 
 as for your instrument, your cunning butler Come, 
 Vanringham!" he barked. "We are unarmed. Come, 
 tall man, for I who am well-nigh a dwarf now mean to 
 kill you with my naked hands." 
 
 "Vanringham!" The Prince leaped forward. "Behind 
 me, Vanringham!" As the valet ran to him the old 
 
298 GALLANTRY 
 
 Prince de Gatinais caught a knife from the table and 
 buried it to the handle in Vanringham s breast. The 
 lackey coughed, choked, clutched his assassin by each 
 shoulder ; thus he stood with a bewildered face, shudder 
 ing visibly, every muscle twitching. Suddenly he 
 shrieked, with an odd, gurgling noise, and his grip re 
 laxed, and Francis Vanringham seemed to crumple 
 among his garments, so that he shrank rather than fell 
 to the floor. His hands stretched forward, his fingers 
 spreading and for a moment writhing in agony, and then 
 he lay quite still. 
 
 "You progress, my father," said Louis de Soyecourt, 
 quietly. "And what new infamy may I now look for?" 
 
 "A valet !" said the Prince. "You would have fought 
 with him 1 a valet ! He topped you by six inches. And 
 the man was desperate. Your life was in danger. And 
 your life is valuable." 
 
 "I have earlier perceived, my father, that you prize 
 human life very highly." 
 
 The Prince de Gatinais struck sharply upon the table. 
 "I prize the welfare of France. To secure this it is 
 necessary that you and no other reign in Noumarja. But 
 for the girl you would have yielded just now. So to the 
 welfare of France I sacrifice the knave at my feet, the 
 child yonder, and my own soul. Let us remember that 
 we are de Soyecourts, you and I." 
 
 "Rather I see in you," began the younger man, "a 
 fiend. I see in you a far ignobler Judas " 
 
 "And I see in you the savior of France. Nay, let us 
 remember that we are de Soyecourts, you and I. And 
 for six centuries it has always been our first duty to serve 
 France. You behold only a man and a woman assassi- 
 
THE SCAPEGOATS 299 
 
 nated ; I behold thousands of men preserved from death, 
 many thousands of women rescued from hunger and deg 
 radation. I have sinned, and grievously ; ages of torment 
 may not purge my infamy ; yet I swear it is well done !" 
 
 "And I?" the little Marquis said. 
 
 "Why, your heart is slain, my son, for you loved this 
 girl as I loved your mother, and now you can nevermore 
 quite believe in the love God bears for us all; and my 
 soul is damned irretrievably : but we are de Soyecourts, 
 you and I, and accordingly we rejoice and drink to 
 France, to the true love of a de Soyecourt ! to France 
 preserved ! to France still mighty among her peers !" 
 
 Louis de Soyecourt stood quite motionless. Only his 
 eyes roved toward his father, then to the body that had 
 been Nelchen s. He began to laugh as he caught up 
 his glass. "You have conquered. What else have I to 
 live for now ? To France, you devil !" 
 
 "To France, my son !" The glasses clinked. "To the 
 true love of a de Soyecourt!" 
 
 And immediately the Prince de Gatinais fell at his son s 
 feet. "You will go into Noumaria?" 
 
 "What does that matter now?" the other wearily said. 
 "Yes, I suppose so. Get up, you devil!" 
 
 But the Prince de Gatinais detained him, with hands 
 like ice. "Then we preserve France, you and I ! We 
 are both damned, I think, but it is worth while, Louis. 
 In hell we may remember that it was well worth while. 
 I have slain your very soul, my dear son, but that does 
 not matter: France is saved." The old man still knelt, 
 looking upward. "Yes, and you must forgive me, my 
 son ! For, see, I yield you what reparation I may. See, 
 Louis, I was chemist enough for two. Wine of my own 
 
300 GALLANTRY 
 
 vintage I have tasted, of the brave vintage which now 
 revives all France. And I swear to you the child did not 
 suffer, Louis, not not much. See, Louis! she did not 
 suffer." A convulsion tore at and shook the aged body, 
 and twitched awry the mouth that had smiled so reso 
 lutely. Thus the Prince died. 
 
 Presently Louis de Soyecourt knelt and caught up the 
 wrinkled face between both hands. "My father !" said 
 Louis de Soyecourt. Afterward he kissed the dead lips 
 tenderly. "Teach me how to live, my father," said Louis 
 de Soyecourt, "for I begin to comprehend in part I com 
 prehend." Throughout the moment Nelchen Thorn was 
 forgotten : and to himself he too seemed to be fashioned 
 of heroic stuff. 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 
 As Played at Breschau, May j, 7755 
 
 "Venez, belle, venes, 
 
 Qu on ne sgauroit tenir, et qui vous mutinez. 
 Void vostre galand! a moi pour recommence 
 Vous powuez faire une humble et douce reverence! 
 Adieu, Fevenernent trompe un peu mes souhaits; 
 Ma/is tous les anwureux ne sont pas SQtisfaitS." 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 GRAND DUKE OF NOUMARIA, formerly Louis DE 
 SOYECOURT, tormented beyond measure with the im 
 pertinences of life. 
 
 COMTE DE CHATEAUROUX, cousin to the Grand Duchess, 
 and complies with circumstance. 
 
 A COACHMAN and two FOOTMEN. 
 
 GRAND DUCHESS OF NOUMARIA, a capable woman. 
 BARONESS VON ALTENBURG, a coquette. 
 
 SCENE 
 The Palace Gardens at Breschau. 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 
 
 PROEM: In Default of the Hornpipe Customary to a Lengthy 
 Interval between Acts 
 
 LOUIS DE SOYECOURT fulfilled the promise made 
 to the old Prince de Gatinais, so that presently 
 went about Breschau, hailed by more or less en 
 thusiastic plaudits, a fair and blue-eyed, fat little man, 
 who smiled mechanically upon the multitude, and looked 
 after the interests of France wearily, and (without much 
 more ardor) gave over the remainder of his time to 
 outrivalling his predecessor, unvenerable Ludwig von 
 Freistadt, who until now had borne, among the eighteen 
 grand dukes (largely of quite grand-ducal morals) that 
 had earlier governed in Noumaria, the palm for indolence 
 and dissipation. 
 
 At moments, perhaps, the Grand Duke recollected the 
 Louis Quillan who had spent three months in Manneville, 
 but only, I think, as one recalls some pleasurable ac 
 quaintance; Quillan had little resembled the Marquis de 
 Soyecourt, rake, tippler and exquisite of Versailles, and 
 in the Grand Duke you would have found even less of 
 Nelchen Thorn s betrothed. He was quite dead, was 
 Quillan, for the man that Nelchen loved had died within 
 the moment of Nelchen s death. He, the poor children ! 
 his Highness meditated. Dead, both of them, both mur 
 dered four years since, slain in Poictesme yonder. . . . 
 Eh bien, it was not necessary to engender melancholy. 
 
 303 
 
304 GALLANTRY 
 
 So his Highness amused himself, not very heartily, 
 but at least to the last resource of a flippant and un- 
 prudish age. Meantime his grumbling subjects bored 
 him, his duties bored him, his wife bored him, his mis 
 tresses bored him after the first night or two, and, above 
 all, he most hideously bored himself. But I spare you a 
 chronique scandaleuse of Duke Louis reign and come 
 hastily to its termination, as more pertinent to the matter 
 I have now in hand. 
 
 Suffice it, then, that he ruled in Noumaria five years; 
 that he did what was requisite by begetting children in 
 lawful matrimony, and what was expected of him by 
 begetting some others otherwise; and that he stoutened 
 daily, and by and by decided that the young Baroness 
 von Altenburg not excepting even her lovely and mul 
 tifarious precursors, was beyond doubt possessed of the 
 brightest eyes in all history. Therefore did his Highness 
 lay before the owner of these eyes a certain project, upon 
 which the Baroness was in season moved to comment. 
 
 "The idea," said the Baroness, "is preposterous!" 
 "Admirably put!" cried the Grand Duke. "We will 
 execute it, then, the first thing in the morning." 
 
 " and, besides, one could take only a portmanteau " 
 "And the capacity of a portmanteau is limited," his 
 Highness agreed. "Nay, I can assure you, after I had 
 packed my coronet this evening there was hardly room 
 for a change of linen. And I found it necessary to 
 choose between the sceptre and a tooth-brush." 
 
 "Ah, Highness," signed the Baroness von Altenburg, 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 305 
 
 "will you never be serious ? You plan to throw away a 
 duchy, and in the act you jest like a school-boy." 
 
 "Ma foil" retorted the Grand Duke, and looked out 
 upon the moonlit gardens ; "as a loyal Noumarian, should 
 I not rejoice at the good- fortune which is about to befall 
 my country? Nay, Amalia, morality demands my abdi 
 cation," he added, virtuously, "and for this once morality 
 and I are in complete accord." 
 
 The Baroness von Altenburg was not disposed to argue 
 the singularity of any such agreement, the while that she 
 considered Louis de Soyecourt s latest scheme. 
 
 He had, as prologue to its elucidation, conducted the 
 Baroness into the summer-house that his grandfather, 
 good Duke Augustus, erected in the Gardens of Breschau, 
 close to the Fountain of the Naiads, and had en tete-a 
 tete explained his notion. There were post-horses in 
 Noumaria ; there was also an unobstructed road that led 
 you to Vienna, and thence to the world outside; and he 
 proposed, in short, to quiet the grumbling of the discon 
 tented Noumarians by a second, and this time a final, 
 vanishment from office and the general eye. He sub 
 mitted that the Baroness, as a patriot, could not fail to 
 weigh the inestimable benefit which would thus accrue to 
 her native land. 
 
 Yet he stipulated that his exit from public life should 
 be made in company with the latest lady on whom he had 
 bestowed his variable affections ; and remembering this 
 proviso, the Baroness, without exactly encouraging or 
 disencouraging his scheme, was at least not prone to in 
 sist on coupling him with morality. 
 
 She contented herself with a truism. "Indeed, your 
 Highness, the example you set your subjects is atrocious." 
 
306 GALLANTRY 
 
 <4 And yet they complain!" said the Grand Duke, 
 "though I swear to you I have always done the things I 
 ought not to have done, and have left unread the papers 
 I have signed. What more, in reason, can one ask of a 
 grand duke?" 
 
 "You are indolent " remonstrated the lady. 
 
 "You since we attempt the descriptive," said his 
 Highness, "are adorable." 
 
 " and that injures your popularity " 
 
 "Which, by the way, vanished with my waist." 
 
 " and moreover you create scandals " 
 
 " The woman tempted me/ " quoted the Grand Duke ; 
 and added, reflectively, "Amalia, it is very singular " 
 
 "Nay, I am afraid," the Baroness lamented, "it is 
 rather notoriously plural." 
 
 But the Grand Duke waved a dignified dissent, and 
 continued, " that I could never resist green eyes of a 
 peculiar shade." 
 
 The Baroness, becoming vastly interested in the struc 
 ture of her fan, went on, with some severity, "Your rep 
 utation " 
 
 "De mortuis " pleaded the Grand Duke. 
 
 " is bad; and you go from bad to worse." 
 
 "By no means," said his Highness, "since when I was 
 nineteen " 
 
 "I will not believe it even of you!" cried the Baroness 
 von Altenburg. 
 
 "I assure you," his Highness protested, gravely, "1 
 was then a devil of a fellow ! She was only twenty, and 
 she, too, had big green eyes " 
 
 "And by this late period," said the lady, "has in addi 
 tion an infinity of grandchildren." 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 307 
 
 "I happen to be barely forty!" the Grand Duke said, 
 with dignity. 
 
 "In which event the Almanachen dating, say, from 
 1710" 
 
 "Are not unmarred by an occasional misprint. Truly 
 I lament the ways of all typographers, and I will explain 
 the cause of their depravity, in Vienna." 
 
 "But I am not going to Vienna." 
 
 " And Sapphira/ " murmured his Highness, " fell 
 down straightway at his feet, and yielded up the ghost! 
 So beware, Amalia!" 
 
 "I am not afraid, your Highness, " 
 
 "Nor in effect am, I. Then we will let Europe frown 
 and journalists moralize, while we two gallop forward on 
 the road that leads to Vienna and heaven?" 
 
 "Or " the Baroness helpfully suggested. 
 
 "There is in this case no possible or. Once out of 
 Noumaria, we leave all things behind save happiness." 
 
 "Among these trifles, your Highness, is a duchy." 
 
 "Hein?" said the Grand Duke; "what is it? A mere 
 dot on the map, a pawn in the game of politics. I give 
 up the pawn and take the queen." 
 
 "That is unwise," said the Baroness, with composure, 
 "and, besides, you are hurting my hand. Apropos of the 
 queen the Grand Duchess " 
 
 "Will heartily thank God for her deliverance. She 
 will renounce me before the world, and in secret almost 
 worship me for my consideration." 
 
 "Yet a true woman," said the Baroness, oracularly, 
 "will follow a husband" 
 
 "Till his wife makes her stop," said the little Grand 
 Duke, his tone implying that he knew whereof he spoke. 
 
308 GALLANTRY 
 
 " and if the Grand Duchess loved you " 
 
 "Oh, I think she would never mention it," said the 
 Grand Duke, revolving in his mind this novel idea. "She 
 has a great regard for appearances." 
 
 "Nevertheless" 
 
 "She will be Regent" and the Grand Duke chuckled. 
 "I can see her now, St. Elizabeth, with a dash of Boa- 
 dicea. Noumaria will be a pantheon of the virtues, and 
 my children will be reared on moral aphorisms and ra 
 tional food, with me as a handy example of everything 
 they should avoid. Deuce take it, Amalia," he added, "a 
 father must in common decency furnish an example to 
 his children !" 
 
 "Pray," asked the Baroness, "do you owe it to your 
 children, then, to take this trip to Vienna " 
 
 "Ma foi !" retorted the Grand Duke, "I owe that to 
 myself." 
 
 " and thereby break the Grand Duchess heart?" 
 
 "Indeed," observed his Highness, "you appear strange 
 ly deep in the confidence of my wife." 
 
 Again the Baroness descended to aphorism. "All 
 women are alike, your Highness." 
 
 "Ah, ah! Well, I have heard," said the Grand Duke, 
 "that seven devils were cast out of Magdalene " 
 
 "Which means?" 
 
 "I have never heard of this being done to any other 
 woman. Accordingly I deduce that in all other women 
 must remain " 
 
 "Beware, your Highness, of the crudeness of cyn 
 icism !" 
 
 "I age," complained the Grand Duke, "and one reaches 
 years of indiscretion so early in the forties." 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 309 
 
 "You admit, then, discretion is desirable?" 
 
 "I admit that," his Highness said, with firmness, "of 
 you alone." 
 
 "Am I, in truth," queried the Baroness, "desirable?" 
 And in this patch of moonlight she looked incredibly so. 
 
 "More than that," said the Grand Duke "you are 
 dangerous. You are a menace to the peace of my Court. 
 The young men make sonnets to your eyes, and the ladies 
 are ready to tear them out. You corrupt us, one and all. 
 There is de Chateauroux now " 
 
 "I assure you," protested the Baroness, "Monsieur de 
 Chateauroux is not the sort of person " 
 
 "But at twenty-five," the Grand Duke interrupted, "one 
 is invariably that sort of person." 
 
 "Phrases, your Highness!" 
 
 "Phrases or not, it is decided. You shall make no more 
 bad poets." 
 
 "You will," said the Baroness, "put me to a vast ex 
 pense for curl-papers." 
 
 "You shall ensnare no more admirers." 
 
 "My milliner will be inconsolable." 
 
 "In short, you must leave Noumaria " 
 
 "You condemn me to an exile s life of misery !" 
 
 "Well, then, since misery loves company, I will go with 
 you. For we should never forget," his Highness added, 
 with considerable kindliness, "always to temper justice 
 with mercy. So I have ordered a carriage to be ready at 
 dawn." 
 
 The Baroness reflected; the plump little Grand 1 Duke 
 smiled. And he had reason, for there was about this 
 slim white woman whose eyes were colossal emeralds, 
 and in show equivalently heatless, if not in effect, so 
 
310 GALLANTRY 
 
 much of the baroque that in meditation she appeared some 
 prentice queen of Faery dubious as to her incantations. 
 Now, though, she had it the mislaid abracadabra. 
 
 "I knew that I had some obstacle in mind Thou shalt 
 not commit adultery. No, your Highness, I will not 
 
 go." 
 
 "Remember Sapphira," said the Grand Duke, "recall 
 Herodias who fared happily in all things, and by no 
 means forget the portmanteau." 
 
 "I have not the least intention of going " the Baroness 
 iterated, firmly. 
 
 "Nor would I ever suspect you of harboring such a 
 thought. Still, a portmanteau, in case of an emer 
 gency " 
 
 "although" 
 
 "Why, exactly/ 
 
 " although I am told the sunrise is very beautiful 
 from the Gardens of Breschau." 
 
 "It is well worth seeing," agreed the Grand Duke ? 
 "on certain days particularly on Thursdays. The gar 
 deners make a specialty of them on Thursdays." 
 
 "By a curious chance," the Baroness murmured, "this 
 is Wednesday." 
 
 "Indeed," said the Grand Duke, "now you mention it, 
 I believe it is." 
 
 "And I shall be here, on your Highness recommenda 
 tion, to see the sunrise " 
 
 "Of course," said the Grand Duke, "to see the sunrise, 
 but with a portmanteau!" 
 
 The Baroness was silent. 
 
 "With a portmanteau," entreated the Grand Duke. 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 311 
 
 "I am a connoisseur of portmanteaux. Say that I may 
 see yours, Amalia." 
 
 The Baroness was silent. 
 
 "Say yes, Amalia. For to the student of etymology 
 the very word portmanteau " 
 
 The Baroness bent toward him and said : 
 
 "I am sorry to inform your Highness that there is 
 some one at the door of the summer-house." 
 
 II 
 
 Inasmuch as all Noumaria knew that its little Grand 
 Duke, once closeted with the lady whom he delighted to 
 honor, did not love intrusions, and inasmuch as a discreet 
 Court had learned, long ago, to regard the summer-house 
 as consecrate to his Highness and the Baroness von Alten- 
 burg, for these reasons the Grand Duke was inclined 
 to resent disturbance of his privacy when he first peered 
 out into the gardens. 
 
 His countenance was less severe when he turned again 
 toward the Baroness, and it smacked more of bewilder 
 ment 
 
 "It is only my wife," he said. 
 
 "And the Comte de Chateauroux," said the Baroness. 
 
 There is no denying that their voices were somewhat 
 lowered. The chill and frail beauty of the Grand Duch 
 ess was plainly visible from where they sat; to every 
 sense a woman of snow, his Highness mentally decided, 
 for her gown this evening was white and the black hair 
 powdered ; all white she was, a cloud-tatter in the moon 
 light: yet with the Comte de Chateauroux as a foil, his 
 
312 GALLANTRY 
 
 uniform of the Cuirassiers a big stir of glitter and color, 
 she made an undeniably handsome picture; and it was, 
 quite possibly, the Grand Duke s aesthetic taste which 
 held him for the moment motionless. 
 
 "After all " he began, and rose. 
 
 "I am afraid that her Highness " the Baroness like 
 wise commenced. 
 
 "She would be sure to," said the Grand Duke, and 
 thereupon he sat down. 
 
 "I do not, however," said the Baroness, "approve of 
 eavesdropping." 
 
 "Oh, if you put it that way " agreed the Grand Duke, 
 and he was rising once more, when the voice of de 
 Chateauroux stopped him. 
 
 "No, not at any cost!" de Chateauroux was saying; 
 "I cannot and I will not give you up, Victoria!" 
 
 " though I have heard," said his Highness, "that the 
 moonlight is bad for the eyes." Saying this, he seated 
 himself composedly in the darkest corner of the summer- 
 house. 
 
 "This is madness!" the Grand Duchess said "sheer 
 madness." 
 
 "Madness, if you will," de Chateauroux persisted, "yet 
 it is a madness too powerful and sweet to be withstood. 
 Listen, Victoria," and he waved his hand toward the 
 palace, whence music, softened by the distance, came from 
 the lighted windows, "do you not remember? They 
 used to play that air at Staarberg." 
 
 The Grand Duchess had averted her gaze from him. 
 She did not speak. 
 
 He continued: "Those were contented days, were 
 they not, when we were boy and girl together? I have 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 313 
 
 danced to that old-world tune so many times with you ! 
 And to-night, madame, it recalls a host of unforgettable 
 things, for it brings back to memory the scent of that 
 girl s hair, the soft cheek that sometimes brushed mine, 
 the white shoulders which I so often had hungered to 
 kiss, before I dared " 
 
 "Hein?" muttered the Grand Duke. 
 
 "We are no longer boy and girl," the Grand Duchess 
 said. "All that lies behind us. It was a dream a fool 
 ish dream which we must forget." 
 
 "Can you in truth forget?" de Chateauroux demanded, 
 "can you forget it all, Victoria? forget that night at 
 Gnestadt, when you confessed you loved me ? forget that 
 day at Staarberg, when we were lost in the palace gar 
 dens?" 
 
 "Mon Dieu, what a queer method!" murmured the 
 Grand Duke. "The man makes love by the almanac." 
 
 "Nay, dearest woman in the world," de Chateauroux 
 went on, "you loved me once, and that you cannot have 
 quite forgotten. We were happy then very incredibly 
 happy, and now " 
 
 "Life," said the Grand Duchess, "cannot always be 
 happy." 
 
 "Ah, no, my dear! nor is it to be elated by truisms. 
 But what a life is this of mine, a life of dreary days, 
 filled with sick, vivid dreams of our youth that is hardly 
 past as yet! And so many dreams, dear woman of my 
 heart! in which the least remembered trifle brings back, 
 as if in a flash, some corner of the old castle and you as 
 I saw you there, laughing, or insolent, or, it may be, 
 tender. Ah, but you were not often tender! Just for a 
 moment I see you, and my blood leaps up in homage to 
 
314 GALLANTRY 
 
 my dear lady. Then instantly that second of actual vision 
 is over, I am going prosaically about the day s business, 
 but I hunger more than ever " 
 
 "This," said the Grand Duke, "is insanity." 
 
 "Yet I love better the dreams of the night," de Cha- 
 teauroux went on; "for they are not made all of mem 
 ories, sweetheart. Rather, they are romances which my 
 love weaves out of multitudinous memories, fantastic 
 stories of just you and me that always end, if I be left 
 to dream them out in comfort, very happily. For there 
 is in these dreams a woman who loves me, whose heart 
 and body and soul are mine, and mine alone. Ohe, it 
 is a wonderful vision while it lasts, though it be only in 
 dreams that I am master of my heart s desire, and though 
 the waking be bitter . . . ! Need it be just a dream, 
 Victoria?" 
 
 "Not but that he does it rather well, you know," 
 whispered the Grand Duke to the Baroness von Alten- 
 burg, "although the style is florid. Yet that last speech 
 was quite in my earlier and more rococo manner." 
 
 The Grand Duchess did not stir as de Chateauroux bent 
 over her jewelled hand. 
 
 "Come ! come now !" he said. "Let us not lose our 
 only chance of happiness. Come forth, O Galatea, and 
 forget as thou comest, even as I already have forgot, the 
 homeward way ! Nay, choose with me to go a- shepherd- 
 ing-! " 
 
 "Oh, but to think of dragging in Theocritus!" ob 
 served his Highness. "Can this be what they call se 
 duction nowadays!" 
 
 "I cannot," the Grand Duchess whispered, and her 
 voice trembled. "You know that I cannot, dear." 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 315 
 
 "You will go !" said cle Chateauroux. 
 
 "My husband" 
 
 "A man who leaves you for each new caprice, who 
 flaunts his mistresses in the face o>f Europe." 
 
 "My children" 
 
 "Eh, mon Dieu ! are they or aught else to stand in my 
 way, now that I know you love me !" 
 
 " it would be criminal " 
 
 "Ah, yes, but then you love me!" 
 
 " you act a dishonorable part, de Chateauroux, " 
 
 "That does not matter. You love me!" 
 
 "I will never see you again," said the Grand Duchess, 
 firmly. "Go! I loathe you, I loathe you, monsieur, 
 even more than I loathe myself for having stooped to 
 listen to you." 
 
 "You love me !" said de Chateauroux, and took her in 
 his arms. 
 
 Then the Grand Duchess rested her head upon the 
 shoulder of de Chateauroux, and breathed, "God help 
 me !_yes!" 
 
 "Really," said the Grand Duke, "I would never have 
 thought it of Victoria. It seems incredible for any wom 
 an of taste to be thus lured astray by citations of the 
 almanac and secondary Greek poets." 
 
 "You will come, then?" the Count said. 
 
 And the Grand Duchess answered, quietly, "It shall 
 be as you will." 
 
 More lately, while the Grand Duke and the Baroness 
 craned their necks, and de Chateauroux bent, very slowly, 
 over her upturned lips, the Grand Duchess struggled from 
 him, saying, "Hark, Philippe! for I heard some one 
 something stirring " 
 
316 GALLANTRY 
 
 "It was the wind, dear heart." 
 
 "Hasten! I am afraid! Oh, it is madness to wait 
 here!" 
 
 "At dawn, then in the gardens?" 
 
 "Yes, ah, yes, yes ! But come, mon ami." And they 
 disappeared in the direction of the palace. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The Grand Duke looked dispassionately on their re 
 treating figures ; inquiringly on the Baroness ; reprovingly 
 on the moon, as though he rather suspected it of having 
 treated him with injustice. 
 
 "Ma foi," said his Highness, at length, "I have never 
 known such a passion for sunrises. Shortly we shall 
 have them announced as Patronized by the Nobility/ " 
 
 The Baroness said only, with an ellipsis. "Her own 
 cousin, too!" 1 
 
 "Victoria," observed the Grand Duke, "has always had 
 the highest regard for her family ; but in this she is going 
 too far" 
 
 "Yes," said the Baroness; "as far as Vienna." 
 
 " and I shall tell her that there are limits. Pardieu," 
 the Grand Duke emphatically repeated, "that there are 
 limits." 
 
 "Whereupon, if I am not mistaken, she will reply that 
 there are baronesses." 
 
 "I shall then appeal to her better nature " 
 
 *By courtesy rather than legally; Mademoiselle Berlin was, 
 however, undoubtedly the Elector of Badenburg*s sister, though 
 on the wrong side of the blanket; and to her (second) son by 
 Louis Quinze his French Majesty accorded the title of Comte 
 de Chateauroux. 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 317 
 
 "You will find it," said the Baroness, "strangely hard 
 of hearing." 
 
 " an< i afterward I shall have de Chateauroux ar 
 rested." 
 
 "On what grounds, your Highness?" 
 
 "In fact," admitted the Grand Duke, "we do not want 
 a scandal." 
 
 "It is no longer," the Baroness considered, "altogether 
 a question of what we want." 
 
 "And, morbleu ! there will be a horrible scandal " 
 
 "The public gazettes will thrive on it." 
 
 " an( i trouble with her father, if not international 
 complications " 
 
 "The armies of Noumaria and Badenburg have for 
 years had nothing to do." 
 
 " and later a divorce." 
 
 "The lawyers will call you blessed. In any event," 
 the Baroness conscientiously added, "your lawyers will. 
 I am afraid that hers " 
 
 "Will scarcely be so courteous?" the Grand Duke 
 queried. 
 
 "It is not altogether impossible," the Baroness admit 
 ted, "that in preparation of their briefs they may light 
 upon some other adjective." 
 
 "And, in short," his Highness summed it up, "there 
 will be the deuce to pay." 
 
 "Oh, no! the piper," said the Baroness, "after long 
 years of dancing. That is what moralists will be say 
 ing, I suspect." 
 
 And this seemed so highly probable that the plump 
 little Grand Duke frowned, and lapsed into a most un- 
 ducal sullenness. 
 
318 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Your Highness, " murmured the Baroness, "I cannot 
 express my feelings as to this shocking revelation " 
 
 "Madame," said the Grand Duke, "no more can I. At 
 least, not in the presence of a lady." 
 
 " But I have a plan " 
 
 "I," said the Grand Duke, "have an infinity of plans; 
 but de Chateauroux has a carriage, and a superfluity of 
 Bourbon blood ; and Victoria has the obstinacy of a 
 mule." 
 
 " And my plan," said the Baroness, "is a good one." 
 
 "It needs to be," said the Grand Duke. 
 
 But thereupon the Baroness von Altenburg unfolded to 
 his Highness her scheme for preserving coherency in the 
 reigning family of Noumaria, and the Grand Duke of 
 that principality heard and marvelled. 
 
 "Amalia," he said, when she had ended, "you should 
 be prime-minister " 
 
 "Ah, your Highness," said the lady, "you flatter me, 
 for none of my sex has ever been sufficiently unmanly 
 to make a good politician." 
 
 "though, indeed," the Grand Duke reflected, "what 
 would a mere prime-minister do with lips like yours ?" 
 
 "He would set you an excellent example by admiring 
 them from a distance. Do you agree, then, to my plan ?" 
 
 "Why, ma f oi, yes !" said the Grand Duke, and he 
 sighed. "In the gardens at dawn." 
 
 "At dawn," said the Baroness, "in the gardens." 
 
 IV 
 
 That night the Grand Duke was somewhat impeded in 
 falling asleep. He was seriously annoyed by the upset- 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 319 
 
 ment of his escape from the Noumarian exile, since he 
 felt that he had prodigally fulfilled his obligations, and 
 in consequence deserved a holiday; the duchy was com 
 mitted past retreat to the French alliance, there were two 
 legitimate children to reign after him, and be the puppets 
 of de Puysange and de Bernis, 1 just as he had been. 
 Truly, it was diverting, after a candid appraisal of his 
 own merits, to reflect that a dwarfish Louis de Soyecourt 
 had succeeded where quite impeccable people like Bayard 
 and du Guesclin had failed ; by four years of scandalous 
 living in Noumarja he had confirmed the duchy to the 
 French interest, had thereby secured the wavering friend 
 ship of Austria, and had, in effect, set France upon her 
 feet. Yes, the deed was notable, and he wanted his 
 reward. 
 
 To be the forsaken husband, to play Sgarnarelle with 
 all Europe as an audience, was, he considered, an entirely 
 inadequate reward. That was out of the question, for, 
 deuce take it ! somebody had to be Regent while the brats 
 were growing up. And Victoria, as he had said, would 
 make an admirable Regent. 
 
 He was rather fond of his wife than otherwise. He 
 appreciated the fact that she never meddled with him, 
 and he sincerely regretted she should have taken a fancy 
 to that good-for-nothing de Chateauroux. What qualms 
 the poor woman must be feeling at this very moment 
 over the imminent loss of her virtue! But love was a 
 
 1 The Grand Duke, however, owed de Puysange some repara 
 tion for having begot a child upon the latter s wife: and with 
 de Bernis had not dissimilar ties, for the Marquis de Soyecourt 
 had in Venice, in 1749, relinquished to him the beautiful nun of 
 Muran, Maria Montepulci, which lady de Bernis subsequently 
 turned over to Giacomo Casanova, as is duly recorded in the 
 latter s Memoires, under the year 1753. 
 
320 GALLANTRY 
 
 cruel and unreasonable lord .... There was Nelchen 
 Thorn, for instance. . . . He wondered would he have 
 been happy with Nelchen? her hands were rather coarse 
 about the finger-tips, as he remembered them. . . . 
 The hands of Amalia, though, were perfection. . . . 
 
 Then at last the body that had been Louis Quillan s 
 fell asleep. 
 
 Discontentedly the Grand Duke appraised the scene, 
 and in the murky twilight which heralded the day he 
 found the world a cheerless place. The Gardens of 
 Breschau were deserted, save for a travelling carriage 
 and its fretful horses, who stamped and snuffled within 
 forty yards of the summer-house. 
 
 "It appears," he said, "that I am the first on the 
 ground, and that de Chateauroux is a dilatory lover. 
 Young men degenerate." 
 
 Saying this, he seated himself on a convenient bench, 
 where de Chateauroux found him a few minutes later, 
 and promptly dropped a portmanteau at the ducal feet. 
 
 "Monsieur le Comte," the Grand Duke said, "this is an 
 unforeseen pleasure." 
 
 "Your Highness!" cried de Chateauroux, in astonish 
 ment. 
 
 "Ludovicus" said the Grand Duke, "Dei gratia Archi 
 Dux Nouniaritz, Prince ps Gatinensis, and so on." And de 
 Chateauroux caressed his chin. 
 
 "I did not know," said the Grand Duke, "that you 
 were such an early riser. Or perhaps," he continued, 
 "you are late in retiring. Fy, fy, monsieur! you must 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 321 
 
 be more careful ! You must not create a scandal in our 
 little Court." He shook his ringer knowingly at Philippe 
 de Chateauroux. 
 
 "Your Highness, " said the latter, and stammered 
 into silence. 
 
 "You said that before," the Grand Duke leisurely ob 
 served. 
 
 "An affair of business " 
 
 "Ah! ah! ah!" said the Grand Duke, casting his eye 
 first toward the portmanteau and then toward the car 
 riage, "can it be that you are leaving Noumaria? We 
 shall miss you, Comte." 
 
 "I was summoned very hastily, or I would have paid 
 my respects to your Highness " 
 
 "Indeed," said the Grand Duke, "your departure is of 
 a deplorable suddenness " 
 
 "It is urgent, your Highness " 
 
 " and yet," pursued the Grand Duke, "travel is 
 beneficial to young men." 
 
 "I shall not go far, your Highness " 
 
 "Nay, I would not for the world intrude upon your 
 secrets, Comte " 
 
 " But my estates, your Highness " 
 
 " For young men will be young men, I know." 
 
 " There is, your Highness, to be a sale of meadow 
 land" 
 
 "Which you will find, I trust, untilled/ 
 
 " And my counsellor at law, your Highness, is im 
 perative" 
 
 "At times," agreed the Grand Duke, "the most subtle 
 of counsellors is unreasonable. I trust, though, that she 
 is handsome?" 
 
322 GALLANTRY 
 
 "Ah, your Highness !" cried de Chateauroux. 
 
 "And you have my blessing upon your culture of those 
 meadow lands. Go in peace." 
 
 The Grand Duke was smiling on his wife s kinsman 
 with extreme benevolence when the Baroness von Al- 
 tenburg appeared, in travelling costume and carrying a 
 portmanteau. 
 
 VI 
 
 "Heydey!" said the Grand Duke; "it seems that the 
 legal representative of our good Baroness, also, is im 
 perative." 
 
 "Your Highness!" cried the Baroness, and she, too, 
 dropped her burden. 
 
 "Every one," said the Grand Duke, "appears to ques 
 tion my identity." And meantime de Chateauroux 
 turned from the one to the other in bewilderment. 
 
 "This," said the Grand Duke, after a pause, "is pain 
 ful. This is unworthy of you, de Chateauroux." 
 
 "Your Highness !" cried the Count. 
 
 "Again?" said the Grand Duke, pettishly. 
 
 The Baroness applied her handkerchief to her eyes, 
 and plaintively said, "You do not understand, your 
 Highness " 
 
 "I am afraid," said the Grand Duke, "that I under 
 stand only too clearly." 
 
 " and I confess I was here to meet Monsieur de 
 Chateauroux " 
 
 "Oh, oh !" cried the latter. 
 
 "Precisely," observed the Grand Duke, "to compare 
 portmanteaux; and you had selected the interior of 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 323 
 
 yonder carriage, no doubt, as an appropriate locality." 
 
 "And I admit to your Highness " 
 
 "His Highness already knowing," the Grand Duke 
 interpolated. 
 
 " that we were about to elope." 
 
 "I can assure you " de Chateauroux began. 
 
 "Nay, I will take the lady s word for it," said the 
 Grand Duke "though it grieves me." 
 
 "We knew you would never give your consent," mur 
 mured the Baroness, "and without your consent I can 
 not marry " 
 
 "Undoubtedly," said the Grand Duke, "I would never 
 have given my consent to such fiddle-faddle." 
 
 "And we love each other." 
 
 "Fiddle-de-dee!" said his Highness. 
 
 But de Chateauroux passed one hand over his brow. 
 "This," he said, "is some horrible mistake " 
 
 "It is," assented the Grand Duke, "a mistake and 
 one of your making." 
 
 " For I certainly did not expect the Baroness " 
 
 "To make a clean breast of it so readily?" his High 
 ness asked. "Ah, but she is a lady of unusual candor." 
 
 "Indeed, your Highness " began de Chateauroux. 
 
 "Nay, Philippe," the Baroness entreated, "confess to 
 his Highness, as I have done." 
 
 "Oh, but!" said de Chateauroux. 
 
 "I must beseech you to be silent," said the Grand Duke ; 
 "you have already brought scandal to our Court. Do not, 
 I pray you, add profanity to the catalogue of your of 
 fences. Why, I protest," he continued, "even the Grand 
 Duchess has heard of this imbroglio." 
 
 Indeed, the Grand Duchess, hurrying from a pleached 
 
324 GALLANTRY 
 
 walkway, was already within a few feet of the trio, and 
 appeared no little surprised to find in this place her 
 husband. 
 
 "I would not be surprised," said the Grand Duke, rais 
 ing his eyes toward heaven, "if by this time it were all 
 over the palace." 
 
 VII 
 
 Then, as his wife waited, speechless, the Grand Duke 
 gravely asked : "You, too, have heard of this sad affair, 
 Victoria? Ah, I perceive you have, and that you come 
 in haste to prevent it, even to pursue these misguided 
 beings, if necessary, as the fact that you come already 
 dressed for the journey very eloquently shows. You 
 are self-sacrificing, you possess a good heart, Victoria." 
 
 "I did not know " began the Grand Duchess. 
 
 "Until the last moment," the Grand Duke finished. 
 "Eh, I comprehend. But perhaps," he continued, hope 
 fully, "it is not yet too late to bring them to their senses." 
 
 Aud turning toward the Baroness and de Chateauroux, 
 he said : 
 
 "I may not hinder your departure if you two in truth 
 are swayed by love, since to control that passion is im 
 measurably beyond the prerogative of kings. Yet I beg 
 you to reflect that the step you contemplate is irrevocable. 
 Yes, and to you, madame, whom I have long viewed with 
 a paternal affection an emotion wholly justified by the 
 age and rank for which it has pleased Heaven to pre 
 serve me, to you in particular I would address my plea. 
 If with an entire heart you love Monsieur de Chateau 
 roux, why, then why, then, I concede that love is divine, 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 325 
 
 and yonder carriage at your disposal. But I beg you to 
 reflect" 
 
 "Believe me," said the Baroness, "we are heartily grate 
 ful for your Highness magnanimity. We may, I de 
 duce, depart with your permission?" 
 
 "Oh, freely, if upon reflection " 
 
 "I can reflect only when I am sitting down," declared 
 the Baroness. She handed her portmanteau to de Cha- 
 teauroux, and stepped into the carriage. And the Grand 
 Duke noted that a coachman and two footmen had ap 
 peared, from nowhere in particular. 
 
 "To you, Monsieur le Comte," his Highness now began, 
 with an Olympian frown, "I have naught to say. Under 
 the cover of our hospitality you have endeavored to steal 
 away the fairest ornament of our Court; I leave you to 
 the pangs of conscience, if indeed you possess a con 
 science. But the Baroness is unsophisticated; she has 
 been misled by your fallacious arguments and specious 
 pretence of affection. She has evidently been misled," 
 he said to the Grand Duchess, kindly, "as any woman 
 might be." 
 
 "As any woman might be !" his wife very feebly echoed. 
 
 "And I shall therefore," continued the Grand Duke, 
 "do all within my power to dissuade her from- this ruin 
 ous step. I shall appeal to her better nature, and not, I 
 trust, in vain." 
 
 He advanced with dignity to the carriage, wherein the 
 Baroness was seated. "Amalia," he whispered, "you are 
 an admirable actress. *O wonderful, wonderful, and 
 most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, 
 and after that out of all whooping!" 
 
 The Baroness smiled. 
 
326 GALLANTRY 
 
 "And it is now time," said his Highness, "for me to 
 appeal to your better nature. I shall do so in a rather 
 loud voice, for I have prepared a most virtuous homily 
 that I am unwilling the Grand Duchess should miss. 
 You will at its conclusion be overcome with an appro 
 priate remorse, and will obligingly burst into tears, and 
 throw yourself at my feet pray remember that the left 
 is the gouty one, and be forgiven. You will then be 
 restored to favor, while de Chateauroux drives off alone 
 and in disgrace. Your plan works wonderfully." 
 
 "It is true," the Baroness doubtfully said, "such was 
 the plan." 
 
 "And a magnificent one," said the Grand Duke. 
 
 "But I have altered it, your Highness." 
 
 "And this alteration, Amalia ?" 
 
 "Involves a trip to Vienna:" 
 
 "Not yet, Amalia. We must wait." 
 
 "Oh, I could never endure delays," said the Baroness, 
 "and, since you cannot accompany me, I am going with 
 Monsieur de Chateauroux." 
 
 The Grand Duke grasped the carriage door. 
 
 "Preposterous!" he cried. 
 
 "But you have given your consent," the Baroness pro 
 tested, "and in the presence of the Grand Duchess." 
 
 "Which," said the Grand Duke, "was part of our plan." 
 
 "Indeed, your Highness," said the Baroness, "it was 
 a most important part. You must know," she continued, 
 with some diffidence, "that I have the misfortune to love 
 Monsieur de Chateauroux." 
 
 "Who is in love with Victoria." 
 
 "I have the effrontery to believe," said the Baroness, 
 "that he is, in reality, in love with me." 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 327 
 
 "Especially after hearing him last night," the Grand 
 Duke suggested. 
 
 "That scene, your Highness, we had carefully rehearsed 
 oh, seven or eight times! Personally, I agreed with 
 your Highness that the quotation from Theocritus was 
 pedantic, but Philippe insisted on it, you conceive " 
 
 The Grand Duke gazed meditatively upon the Baroness, 
 who had the grace to blush. 
 
 "Then it was," he asked, "a comedy for my benefit?" 
 
 "You would never have consented " she began. But 
 the Grand Duke s countenance, which was slowly altering 
 to a greenish pallor, caused her to pause. 
 
 "You will get over it in a week, Louis," she murmured, 
 "and you will find other baronesses." 
 
 "Oh, very probably !" said his Highness, and he noted 
 with pleasure that he spoke quite as if it did not matter. 
 "Nevertheless, this was a despicable trick to play upon 
 the Grand Duchess." 
 
 Yet I do not think the Grand Duchess will complain," 
 said the Baroness von Altenburg. 
 
 And it was as though a light broke on the Grand Duke. 
 "You planned all this beforehand?" he inquired. 
 
 "Why, precisely, your Highness." 
 
 "And de Chateauroux helped you?" 
 
 <; In effect, yes, your Highness." 
 
 "And the Grand Duchess knew?" 
 
 "The Grand Duchess suggested it, your Highness, the 
 moment that she knew you thought of eloping." 
 
 "And I, who tricked Gaston !" 
 
 "Louis," said the Baroness von Altenburg, in a semi- 
 whisper, "your wife is one of those persons who cling to 
 respectability like a tippler to his bottle. To her It is 
 
328 GALLANTRY 
 
 absolutely nothing how many women you may pursue 
 or conquer so long as you remain here under her thumb, 
 to be exhibited, in fair sobriety, upon the necessary public 
 occasions. I pity you, my Louis." And she sighed with 
 real compassion. 
 
 He took possession of one gloved hand. "At the bot 
 tom of your heart," his Highness said, irrelevantly, "you 
 like me better than you do Monsieur de Chateauroux." 
 
 "I find you the more entertaining company, to be sure 
 But what a woman most wants is to be loved. If I touch 
 Philippe s hand for, say, the millionth part of a second 
 longer than necessity compels, he treads for the remainder 
 of the day above meteors; if yours why, you at most 
 admire my fingers. No doubt you are a connoisseur of 
 fingers and such-like trifles; but, then, a woman does 
 not wish to be admired by a connoisseur so much as she 
 hungers to be adored by a maniac. And accordingly, I 
 prefer my stupid Philippe." 
 
 "You are wise," the Grand Duke estimated. "I re 
 member long ago ... in Poictesme yonder. ..." 
 
 "I loathe her," the Baroness said, with emphasis. 
 "Nay, I am ignorant as to who she was but O my 
 Louis! had you accorded me a tithe of the love you 
 squandered on that abominable dairymaid I would have 
 followed you not only to Vienna " 
 
 He raised his hand. "There are persons yonder in 
 whom the proper emotions are innate; let us not shock 
 them. No, I never loved you, I suppose; I merely liked 
 your way of talking, liked your big green eyes, liked your 
 lithe young body. . . . He, and I like you still, Amalia. 
 So I shall not play the twopenny despot. God be with 
 you, my dear." 
 
THE DUCAL AUDIENCE 329 
 
 He had seen tears in those admirable eyes before he 
 turned his back to her. "Monsieur de Chateauroux," he 
 called, "I find the lady is adamant. I wish you a pleasant 
 journey." He held open the door of the carriage for de 
 Chateauroux to enter. 
 
 "You will forgive us, your Highness?" asked the 
 latter. 
 
 "You will forget?" murmured the Baroness. 
 
 "I shall do both," said the Grand Duke. "Bon voy 
 age, mes enfants !" 
 
 And with a cracking of whips the carriage drove off. 
 
 "Victoria," said the plump little Grand Duke, in ad 
 miration, "you are a remarkable woman. I think that I 
 will walk for a while in the gardens, and meditate upon 
 the perfections of my wife." 
 
 VIII 
 
 He strolled in the direction of the woods. As he 
 reached the summit of a slight incline he turned and 
 looked toward the road that leads from Breschau to 
 Vienna. A cloud of dust showed where the carriage had 
 disappeared. 
 
 "Ma foi !" said his Highness ; "my wife has very fully 
 proven her executive ability. Beyond doubt, there is no 
 person in Europe better qualified to rule Noumaria as 
 Regent." 
 
LOVE S ALUMNI : THE AFTERPIECE 
 
 As Played at Ingilby, October 6, 1755 
 
 "Though marriage be a lottery, in which there are a 
 wondrous many blanks, yet there is one inestimable lot, 
 in which the only heaven on earth is written. Would 
 your kind fate but guide your hand to that, though I were 
 wrapt in all that luxury itself could clothe me with, I still 
 should envy you." 
 
DRAMATIS PERSONS 
 
 DUKE OF ORMSKIRK. 
 
 Louis DE SOYECOURT, formerly GRAND DUKE OF Nou- 
 MARIA, and now a tuner of pianofortes. 
 
 DUG DE PUYSANGE. 
 
 DAMIENS, servant to Ormskirk. 
 
 In Dumb Show are presented LORD HUMPHREY DEGGE, 
 CAPTAIN FRANCIS AUDAINE, MR. GEORGE ERWYN, 
 DUCHESS OF ORMSKIRK, DUCHESSE DE PUYSANGE, 
 LADY HUMPHREY DEGGE, MRS. AUDAINE, and MRS. 
 ERWYN. 
 
 SCENE 
 
 The library, and afterward the dining-room, of Orms- 
 kirk s home at Ingilby, in Westmoreland. 
 
 
LOVE S ALUMNI 
 PROEM: Wherein a Prince Serves His People 
 
 THE Grand Duke did not return to breakfast nor 
 to dinner, nor, in point of fact, to Noumaria. 
 For the second occasion Louis de Soyecourt had 
 vanished at the spiriting of boredom ; and it is gratifying 
 to record that his evasion passed without any train of 
 turmoil. 
 
 The Grand Duchess seemed to disapprove of her be 
 reavement, mildly, but only said, "Well, after all !" 
 
 She saw to it that; the ponds about the palace were 
 dragged conscientiously, and held an interview with the 
 Chief of Police, and more lately had herself declared 
 Regent of Noumaria. 
 
 She proved a capable and popular ruler, who when she 
 began to take lovers allowed none of them to meddle with 
 politics : so all went well enough in Noumaria, and nobody 
 evinced the least desire to hasten either the maturity of 
 young Duke Anthony or the reappearance of his father. 
 
 Meantime had come to Ingilby, the Duke of Ormskirk s 
 place in Westmoreland, a smallish blue-eyed vagabond 
 who requested audience with his Grace, and presently got 
 it, for the Duke, since his retirement from public affairs, 1 
 
 1 He returned to office during the following year, as is well 
 known, immediately before the attempted assassination of the 
 French King, in the January of 1757. 
 
 333 
 
334 GALLANTRY 
 
 had become approachable by almost any member of the 
 public. 
 
 The man came into the library, smiling. "I entreat 
 your pardon, Monsieur le Due/ he began, "that I have 
 not visited you sooner. But in unsettled times, you 
 comprehend, the master of a beleaguered fortress is kept 
 busy. This poor fortress of my body has been of late 
 most resolutely besieged by poverty and hunger, the while 
 that I have been tramping about Europe in search of 
 Gaston. Now, they tell me, he is here." 
 
 The travesty of their five-year-old interview at Belle- 
 garde so tickled Ormskirk s fancy that he laughed 
 heartily. "Damiens," said Ormskirk, to the attendant 
 lackey, "go fetch me a Protestant minister from Manne- 
 ville, and have a gallows erected in one of the drawing- 
 rooms. I intend to pay off an old score." Meantime he 
 was shaking the little vagabond s hand, chuckling, and 
 a-beam with hospitality. 
 
 "Your Grace !" said Damiens, bewildered. 
 
 "Well, go, in any event," said Ormskirk. "Oh, go any 
 where, man! to the devil, for instance." 
 
 His eyes followed the retreating lackey. "As I sus 
 pect in the end you will," Ormskirk said, inconsequently. 
 "Still, you are a very serviceable fellow, my good 
 Damiens. I have need of you." 
 
 And with a shrug he now began, "Your Highness, " 
 
 "Praise God, no !" observed the other, fervently. 
 
 And Ormskirk nodded his comprehension. "Monsieur 
 de Soyecourt, then. Of course, we heard of your disap 
 pearance. I have been expecting something of the sort 
 for years. And, frankly, politics are often a nuisance, 
 as both Gaston and myself will willingly attest, espe- 
 
LOVE S ALUMNI 335 
 
 cially," he added, with a grimace, "since war between 
 France and England became inevitable through the late 
 happenings in India and Nova Scotia, and both our wives 
 flatly declined to let either of us take part therein, for 
 fear we might catch our death of cold by sleeping in 
 those draughty tents. Faith, you have descended, sir, 
 like an agreeable meteor, upon two of the most scandal 
 ously henpecked husbands in all the universe. In fact, 
 you will not find a gentleman at Ingilby save Mr. 
 Erwyn, perhaps but is an abject slave to his wife, and 
 in consequence most abjectly content." 
 
 "You have guests, then ?" said de Soyecourt. "Ma foi, 
 it is unfortunate. I but desired to confer with Gaston 
 concerning the disposal of Beaujolais and my other prop 
 erties in France since I find that the sensation of hunger, 
 while undoubtedly novel, is, when too long continued, apt 
 to grow tiresome. I Would not willingly intrude, how 
 ever " 
 
 "Were it not for the fact that you are wealthy, and 
 yet, so long as you preserve your incognito, and remain 
 legally dead, you cannot touch a -penny of your fortune! 
 The situation is droll. We must arrange it. Meanwhile 
 you are my guest, and I can assure you that at Ingilby 
 you will be to all Monsieur de Soyecourt, no more and 
 no less. Now let us see what can be done about clothing 
 Monsieur de Soyecourt for dinner " 
 
 "But I could not consider " Monsieur de Soyecourt 
 protested. 
 
 "I must venture to remind you," the Duke retorted, 
 "that dinner is almost ready, and that Claire is the sort 
 of housewife who would more readily condone fratricide 
 or arson than cold soup." 
 
336 GALLANTRY 
 
 "It is odd," little de Soyecourt said, with complete 
 irrelevance, "that in the end I should get aid of you and 
 of Gaston. And it is odd you should be forgiving my 
 bungling attempts at crime, so lightly " 
 
 Ormskirk considered, a new gravity in his plump face. 
 "Faith, but we find it more salutary, in looking back, to 
 consider some peccadilloes of our own. And we bear no 
 malice, Gaston and I, largely, I suppose, because con 
 tentment is a great encourager of all the virtues. Then, 
 too, we remember that to each of us, at the eleventh 
 hour, and through no merit of his own, was given the 
 one thing worth while in life. We did not merit it ; few 
 of us merit anything, for few of us are at bottom either 
 very good or very bad. Nay, my friend, for the most 
 part we are blessed or damned as Fate elects, and hence 
 her favorites may not in reason contemn her victims. 
 For myself, I observe the king upon his throne and the 
 thief upon his coffin, in passage for the gallows; and I 
 pilfer my phrase and I apply it to either spectacle : There, 
 but for the will of God, sits John Bulmer. I may not 
 understand, I may not question ; I can but accept. Now, 
 then, let us prepare for dinner," he ended, in quite an 
 other tone. 
 
 De Soyecourt yielded. He was shown to his rooms, 
 and Ormskirk rang for Damiens, whom the Duke was 
 sending into France to attend to a rather important 
 assassination. 
 
 II 
 
 At dinner Louis de Soyecourt made divers observa 
 tions. 
 
LOVE S ALUMNI 337 
 
 First Gaston had embraced him. "And the de Gatinais 
 estates? but beyond question, my dear Louis! Next 
 week we return to France, and the affair is easily ar 
 ranged. You may abdicate in due form, you need no 
 longer skulk about Europe disguised as a piano-tuner ; it 
 is all one to France, you conceive, whether you or your 
 son reign in Noumaria. You should have come to me 
 sooner. As for your having been in love with my wife, 
 I could not well quarrel with that, since the action would 
 seriously reflect upon my own taste, who am still most 
 hideously in love with her." 
 
 Helene had stoutened. Monsieur de Soyecourt noted 
 also that Helene s gold hair was silvering now, as though 
 Time had tangled cobwebs through it, and that Gaston 
 was profoundly unconscious of the fact. In Gaston s 
 eyes she was at the most seventeen. Well, Helene had 
 always been admirable in her management of all, and 
 it would be diverting to see that youngest child of hers 
 .... Meanwhile it was diverting also to observe how 
 conscientiously she was exerting a good influence over 
 Gaston : and de Soyecourt smiled to find that she shook 
 her head at Gaston s third glass, and that de Puysange 
 did not venture on a fourth. Victoria, to do her justice, 
 had never meddled with any of her husband s vices . . . 
 
 As for the Duchess of Ormskirk, Louis de Soyecourt 
 had known from the beginning in comparative youth- 
 fulness, that Claire would placidly order her portion of 
 the world as she considered expedient, and that Orms 
 kirk would travesty her, and somewhat bewilder her, and 
 that in the ultimate Ormskirk would obey her to the 
 letter. 
 
 Captain Audaine Monsieur de Soyecourt considered at 
 
338 GALLANTRY 
 
 the start diverting, and in the end a pompous bore. Yet 
 they assured him that Audaine was getting on prodigious 
 ly in the House of Commons, 1 as, ma foi! he would 
 most naturally do, since his metier was simply to shout 
 well-rounded common-places, and the circumstance that 
 he shouted would always attract attention, while the fact 
 that he shouted platitudes would invariably prevent his 
 giving offence. Lord Humphrey Degge was found a 
 ruddy and comely person, of no especial importance, but 
 de Soyecourt avidly took note of Mr. Erwyn s waist 
 coat. Why, this man was a genius ! Monsieur de Soye 
 court at first glance decided. Staid, demure even, yet 
 with a quiet prodigality of color and ornament, an in- 
 evitableness of cut Oh, beyond doubt, this man was 
 a genius! 
 
 As for the ladies at Ingilby, they were adjudged to be 
 handsome women, one and all, but quite unattractive, 
 since they evinced not any excessive interest in Monsieur 
 de Soyecourt. Here was no sniff of future conquest, 
 not one side-long glance, but merely three wives unblush- 
 ingly addicted to their own husbands. Eh bien! these 
 were droll customs ! 
 
 Yet in the little man woke a vague suspicion, as he sat 
 among these contented folk, that, after all, they had per 
 haps attained to something very precious of which his 
 own life had been void, to a something of which he could 
 not even form a conception. Love, of course, he under 
 stood, with thoroughness; no man alive had loved more 
 ardently and variously than Louis de Soyecourt. But 
 
 1 The Captain s personal quarrel with the Chevalier St. George 
 and its remarkable upshot, at Antwerp, as well as the Captain s 
 subsequent renunciation of Jacobitism, are best treated of in 
 Garendon s own memoirs. 
 
LOVE S ALUMNI 339 
 
 what the devil! love was a temporary delusion, an in 
 genious device of Nature s to bring about perpetuation 
 of the species. It was a pleasurable insanity which in 
 duced you to take part in a rather preposterously silly 
 and undignified action: and once this action was per 
 formed, the insanity, of course, gave way to mutual tol 
 erance, or to dislike, or, more preferably, as de Soyecourt 
 considered, to a courteous oblivion of the past. 
 
 And yet when this Audaine, to cite one instance only, 
 had vented some particularly egregious speech that ex 
 quisite wife of his would merely smile, in a fond, half- 
 musing way. She had twice her husband s wit, and was 
 cognizant of the fact, beyond doubt; to any list of his 
 faults and weaknesses you could have compiled she in 
 dubitably might have added a dozen items, familiar to 
 herself alone: and with all this, it was clamant that she 
 preferred Audaine to any possible compendium of the 
 manly virtues. Why, in comparison, she would have 
 pished at a seraph ! after five years of his twaddle, mark 
 you. And Helene seemed to be really not much more 
 sensible about Gaston. . . . 
 
 It all was quite inexplicable. Yet Louis de Soyecourt 
 could see that not one of these folk was blind to his or 
 her yoke-fellow s frailty, but that, beside this something 
 very precious to which they had attained, and he had 
 never attained, a man s foible, or a woman s defect, 
 dwindled into insignificance. Here, then, were people 
 who, after five years consortment, consciously defiant 
 of time s corrosion, of the guttering-out of desire, of the 
 gross and daily disillusions of a life in common, and even 
 of the daily fret of all trivialities shared and diversely 
 viewed, who could yet smile and say: "No, my com- 
 
340 GALLANTRY 
 
 panion is not quite the perfect being I had imagined. 
 What does it matter ? I am content. I would have noth 
 ing changed." 
 
 Well, but Victoria had not been like that. She let you 
 go to the devil in your own way, without meddling, but 
 she irritated you all the while by holding herself to a 
 mark. She had too many lofty ideas about her own 
 duties and principles, much such uncompromising 
 fancies as had led his father to get rid of that little 
 Nelchen. . . . No, there was no putting up with these 
 rigid virtues, day in and day out. These high-flown 
 notions about right and wrong upset your living, they 
 fretted your luckless associates. . . . These people here 
 at Ingilby, by example, made no pretensions to immac 
 ulacy; instead, they kept their gallant compromise with 
 imperfection ; and they seemed happy enough. . . . There 
 might be a moral somewhere : but he could not find it. 
 
 CURTAIN 
 
THE EPILOGUE 
 
 SPOKEN BY ORMSKIRK, WHO ENTERS IN A FRET 
 
 A thankless task ! to come to you and mar 
 Your dwindling appetite for caviar, 
 And so I told him! 
 
 [He calls withi*. 
 Sir, the critics sneer, 
 
 And swear the thing is "crude and insincere" ! 
 "Too trivial"! or for an instant pause 
 And doubly damn with negligent applause ! 
 Impute, in fine, the prowess of the Vicar 
 Less to repentance than to too much liquor! 
 Find Louis naught! de Gatinais inane! 
 Gaston unvital, and George Erwyn vain, 
 And Degge the futile fellow of Audaine! 
 Nay, sir, no Epilogue avails to save 
 You re damned, and Bulmer s hooted as a knave. 
 
 [He retires behind the curtain and is thrust out 
 again. He resolves to make the best of it. 
 
 The author s obdurate, and bids me say 
 Thatsince the doings of our far-off day 
 Smacked less of Hippocrene than of Bohea 
 His tiny pictures of that tiny time 
 Aim little at the lofty and sublime, 
 And paint no peccadillo as a crime 
 Since when illegally light midges mate, 
 Or flies purloin, or gnats assassinate, 
 No sane man hales them to the magistrate. 
 
 Or so he says. He merely strove to find 
 And fix a faithful likeness of mankind 
 341 
 
342 GALLANTRY 
 
 About its daily business, to secure 
 
 No full-length portrait, but a miniature, 
 
 And for it all no moral can procure. 
 
 Let Bulmer, then, defend his old-world crew, 
 And beg indulgence nay, applause of you. 
 
 Grant that we tippled and were indiscreet, 
 And that our idols all had earthen feet; 
 Grant that we made of life a masquerade, 
 And swore a deal more loudly than we prayed; 
 Grant none of us the man his Maker meant, 
 Our 1 deeds, the parodies of our intent, 
 In neither good nor ill pre-eminent; 
 Grant none of us a Nero, none a martyr, 
 All merely so-so. 
 
 And de te narratur. 
 
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