“I thank you very much, Colonel. I am Monsieur de Chavannes; and I have no doubt what you say is perfectly correct. No one but a low ruffian could have behaved as this fellow did. It was, I assure you, no small offence which caused me to strike a blow in the presence of ladies.”
“I saw it, Monsieur le Comte,” answered Jervis, “I saw it from a distance, and was coming up as fast as I could make my horse gallop, when you anticipated me. Then, seeing that I was not wanted, I stood looking on with intense satisfaction; for, upon my word! I never saw a thing better done in my life. No offence, Count, but by the way you use your hands, I think you ought to have been an Englishman rather than a Frenchman, which I suppose from your name—for you have no French accent—you are.”
“I was at school in England, Colonel,” answered the Count, laughing, “and so learned the use of my hands.”
“That accounts for it—that accounts for it—for on my life, I never saw a fellow more handsomely horsewhipped—and I have seen a good many, too. Did you, Mademoiselle Valerie de Chatenoeuf; for I believe it is you whom I have the honour of addressing?”
“I have been less fortunate than you, Colonel Jervis, for I never saw any one horsewhipped before, and sincerely hope I shall never see another.”
“Don’t say that, my dear lady, don’t say that. I am sure it is a very pretty sight, when it is well and soundly done. Besides it seems ungrateful to the Count.”
“I would not be ungrateful for the world,” I replied; “and I am sure the Count needs no assurance of that fact. I am for ever obliged by his prompt defence of me—but it is nothing more than I should have expected from him.”
“What, that he would fight for you, Valerie?” whispered Caroline, maliciously, in a tone which, perhaps, she did not intend to be overheard; but, if such was her meaning, she missed it, for all present heard her distinctly.
I replied, however, very coolly—
“Yes, Caroline, that he would fight for me, or you, or any lady who was aggrieved or insulted in his presence.”