“I am most anxious to serve under you. I can be faithful, attentive—above all, obedient. I have no friends, no resources, nothing to care for. I only wish for an honest livelihood and an honourable death.”
“We can find you both, I doubt not,” answered George, carelessly opening once more the muster-roll of the company. “I have your name down and your age; no further particulars. Where were you educated?”
“In a school of silence, vigilance, self-restraint, and implicit obedience,” answered the recruit.
“Good,” observed his captain; “but we must put down a name.”
“At Avranches, in Normandy,” said the other, after a moment’s hesitation.
George closed the roll. “Enough for the present,” said he; “and now tell me, monsieur, as between friends, where did you learn to fence with so much address?”
“Wherever I could find a foil with a button on,” was the reply. “I never had a naked sword in my hand till last night.”
Something in the ready simplicity of such an answer pleased the captain of musketeers, while it interested him still more in his recruit.
“You must be careful of your parries amongst your new comrades,” said he; “at least till you have measured the force of each. I warn you fairly, one-half the company will want to try your mettle, and the other half to learn your secret, even at the cost of an awkward thrust or two. In the meantime, let us see what you can do. There are a brace of foils in the cupboard there. Bras-de-Fer, will you give him a benefit?”