So, farewells to Mme. de la Vireville over, they walked down to the quay, the new protector and the old, with Anne between them. A boat's crew from the frigate was already waiting at the slip. La Vireville went down on one knee and put an arm about his little comrade.
"Will you kiss me, Anne?"
For answer, Anne clung to him so tightly that a curl became entangled on a button and took a deal of disengaging. . . .
Then once again Anne was in a boat—but not with him. La Vireville turned on his heel with Mr. Tollemache's "Give way, men!" in his ears, then changed his mind, and stood watching the progress of the gig as the oars urged it forward over the dancing water. The small figure in the stern looked back at him all the time.
(4)
Philip d'Auvergne, titular Prince de Bouillon and captain in the British Navy, received the Chevalier de la Vireville rather petulantly in the little house which he inhabited under the shadow of the half-ruined castle of Montorgueil, over at Gorey. He was a good-looking, florid man of one-and-forty, somewhat overfond of surrounding with circumstance the title which had so strangely descended upon him, and converted an unknown naval officer of Jersey into a French prince of the house of Turenne—deprived, it is true, of his principality by the Revolution—while leaving him all the while a British subject. At heart he was generous and loyal.
"What the devil is this I hear about a wild-goose chase to France after a little boy, M. de la Vireville?" he began angrily. "Is this the meaning of your being so long overdue? I wanted you yesterday to land a party of émigrés near Cancale, and I had to employ Chateaubriand instead."
"Permit me to observe to your Highness," returned the culprit coolly, "that I am not, at this moment, disposed to lend my services to that side of the correspondence. My men in my own command have a prior claim on my attention just now."
"I am glad you realise that, Monsieur," retorted the Prince rather tartly. "Yet the muskets and ammunition have been waiting for them nearly a week."
La Vireville gave his shoulders a slight shrug. "The delay was unavoidable, mon Prince," he said, wondering whether it were the hot room which was making his head ache so. "I am ready to superintend the landing of that cargo whenever you please."