Barbiche placed his hand to his swollen lip.
"And you were right, my friend. Let us embrace."
They did so with effusion.
De Kerguel explained all the arrangements to his principal. Then they drove to the nearest cavalry barrack, where they had acquaintances; and that excellent fencer, Monsieur Barbiche, received an hour's lesson in the use of the sabre from the maître d'armes. But he found the weapon unwieldy, and he returned to his hotel a sadder man than he left it.
Old General Pepper ate his lunch with considerable relish. He was sick and tired of Rome, its churches, its ruins, and its priests. He longed, with an ardent longing, for that paradise of retired military men, "the sweet shady side of Pall Mall;" he longed, too, for the whist tables at the Pandemonium, and his so-called friends at that establishment. He felt that if he only got safely across the frontier he would be one of the lions of the season; for he was certain that the business he was bent upon that afternoon would be no child's play. He himself was no particular friend of Haggard's; but he was proud of having done his best for his man. "After all," said he to himself, "it's six of one, and half-a-dozen of the other. It's lucky for Haggard that Spunyarn sent for me, or that cursed Frenchman would have had his life to a certainty, for the friend meant fighting; I could see it in his eye."
Such thoughts as these passed through the worthy officer's mind as he carefully packed his portmanteau. Then he paid his bill. "Now," he soliloquized, "this is what I call being sacrificed. Of one of these fellows I know absolutely nothing, and precious little of the other. But in the cause of honour I shall probably have to run half across Europe, and the worst of it is, at my own expense."
Then the general started out to secure the longest and heaviest pair of cavalry sabres he could find in Rome.
Haggard was equally active. He informed his wife and her cousin that they must leave Rome at once; the convenient excuse of an outbreak of cholera in the city was a sufficiently valid one for the ladies. By two o'clock Mrs. Haggard and Lucy, their maid Hephzibah, and Haggard's useful and polyglot valet, a Swiss, named Capt, were en route for Geneva.
"Business, my dear, will detain me here till over to-morrow," said Haggard, as he embraced his pretty wife upon the platform; "but, please God, I shall see you then." Perhaps his voice faltered a little, as the possibility flashed through his mind that perchance, in this world, he might never gaze again into those loving, trustful eyes. One more kiss at the carriage-window and the train started, for even Italian trains must start at last. Haggard stood gazing after the disappearing carriages. Then he lit a big cigar and went back to his hotel. Then, as a good man of business, he made his will. It was short and to the point. He left everything he had in the world to his dear wife, Georgina Haggard. He rang for a couple of waiters, who duly witnessed it. And then from his pocket-book he took a little packet of tissue-paper. In it was a magnificent lock of hair. Alas, its colour was other than the deep chestnut bronze of Georgie Haggard's. He twined it round his finger, smoothing its glossy threads, and then he carefully dropped it into the hottest part of the wood fire which smouldered on the hearth. It curled and twisted in the embers as if it had been a living thing; a puff of smoke, a pungent odour, and it was gone. Haggard flung himself upon the sofa, and then he slept the dreamless sleep of a little child.
Punctually as the clock struck five, Monsieur Barbiche's faultless brougham and high-stepping horse drew up at the old mill, the only building which remained of the ancient village of St. Stefano. The place was well chosen. There was not a soul about. Barbiche, his face still very pale, dressed in spotless black, in his button-hole the red ribbon, so dear to every Frenchman's heart, and accompanied by his friend De Kerguel, stepped out. They were followed by a little dried-up Italian army surgeon, who carried under his arm an ominous-looking black case. They made for the miller's orchard at once.