“Catch my horse's mane,” said he, hurriedly. “Hold fast for a few seconds, and you are safe.”
Following the advice, I held firmly by the long mane of his charger, while, clearing away the mob on either side, he protected me by his drawn sabre above my head.
“Safe this time!” said he, as we arrived within the ranks. And then turning round, so as to face me, added, “Safe! and my debt acquitted. You saved my life once; and though the peril seemed less imminent now, trust me, yours had not escaped the fury of that multitude without me.”
“What! Henri de Beauvais! Do we meet again?”
“Yes; but with altered fortune, Burke. Our king, as the words of our Garde Écossaise song says,—our king 'has got his own again.' The day of loyalty has again dawned on France, and a grateful people may carry their enthusiasm for the Restoration, even as far as vengeance on their opponents, and yet not merit much reproach. But no more of this. We can be friends now; or if not, it must be your fault.”
“I am not too proud, De Beauvais, either to accept or acknowledge a favor at your hands.”
“Then we are friends,” said he, joyfully. “And in the name of friendship, let me beg of you to place this cordon in your hat.” And so saying, he detached the cockade of white ribbon he wore from his own, and held it towards me. “Well, then, at least remove the tricolor; it can but expose you to insult. Remember, Burke, its day is over.”
“I am not likely to forget it,” replied I, sadly.
“Monsieur le Colonel, his royal highness wishes to speak with you,” said an aide-de-camp, riding up beside De Beauvais's horse.