Twenty times had Lord Mortimer descended to the door of Croustillac's cabin to know if "my lord the duke" had not asked for him. In vain had he implored the officer to send word to the duke that Mortimer, his best friend, his old companion in arms, wished to throw himself at his feet; his wishes were vain, the orders of the unhappy Croustillac, who regarded each minute gained as a precious conquest, were rigorously carried out.
Chemerant also went upon deck, clothed in a magnificent dress, his air radiant and triumphant; he seemed to say to all: "If the prince is here, that is thanks to my ability, to my courage." Seeing him, Mortimer approached him quickly.
"Well, sir," he said to him, "may we know at last at what hour the duke will receive us?"
"The duke has forbidden any one to enter his apartment without his order."
"I am on red-hot coals," replied Mortimer; "I shall never forgive myself for having gone to bed this night, and not to have been the first to press our James in my arms, to throw myself at his feet—to kiss his royal hand."
"Ah, Lord Mortimer, you love our brave duke well?" said De Chemerant; "partisans such as you are rare!"
"If I love our James!" cried Mortimer, turning a deep and apoplectic red, "if I love him! Hold! I and Dick Dudley, my best friend, who loves the duke, not as much as I (we fought once because he made this absurd claim)—I and Dudley, I tell you, asked each other just now if we should have the strength to again see our James without giving way—like silly women."
"The duke was right," thought De Chemerant. "What enthusiasm! It is not attachment, it is frenzy." Mortimer resumed with vehemence: "This morning on rising we embraced each other; we committed a thousand extravagances on thinking we should see him again to-day. We could not believe it, and even yet I doubt it. Ah! what a day! what a day! To see again in flesh and blood a friend, a companion in arms whom we had believed dead, whom we had wept for for five years! Ah! you do not know how he was cherished and regretted, our James! How we recalled his bravery, his courage, his gayety! What happiness to say, not it was, but it is the heart of a king, a true heart of a king, that of our duke."
"It must be that this is true, my lord, since with the exception of yourself, of Lord Dudley, and this poor Lord Rothsay who, ill as he is from his old wounds, has chosen to accompany you, the other gentlemen who came to offer their arms, their lives and their fortunes to our duke, knew him only by reputation."
"And I should like well to see if, on his renown alone, and on our guarantee, they would not love him as much as we love him. This recalls to me that once I fought my friend Dick Dudley because he vowed he loved me a little more than our James!"