‘Lie down again, my lad, and listen to me, patiently too, if you can, for I have tidings that might try your patience.’
‘I see you have bad news for me,’ said Gerald calmly; ‘out with it at once.’
The other made no reply, but turned toward him a look of compassionate tenderness.
‘Come, Count, uncertainty is the worst of penalties—what are your tidings?’
‘Tell me, first of all, Gerald, is it true that you supped on Friday last at Paris with a party, at the house of a certain Monsieur du Saillant, and there met Desmoulins, Rivarol, and several others of that party?’
‘Yes, quite true.’
‘And they drank patriotic toasts—which means that they pledged bumpers in insult to the court?’
‘They made an attempt to do so, which I resisted. I said that I would not sit there and hear one word to disparage my sovereign or his cause, on which one of them cried out, “And who are you who dares to prescribe to us how we are to speak, or what to toast?” “He is my friend,” said Du Saillant, “and that is enough.” “Nay,” broke in the others, “it is not enough. We have placed our necks in a halter, if this youth should turn out a spy of the court, or a Garde du Corps.” “And I am a Garde du Corps,” said I. “Parbleu!” said one, “I know him well now; he is the fellow they call the Ecossais—the Queen’s minion.” With that I struck him across the face—the others fell upon me, and pressed me toward the window, I believe, to throw me out; at all events there was a severe struggle, from which I escaped, roughly handled and bruised, into an adjoining room. Here they followed and arranged that meeting of which you have heard.’
‘You ran him through?’
‘Yes, a bad wound, I fear; but it was no time to measure consequences; besides, three others claimed to fight me.’