“O, the urbanity of the young and the brave!” he murmured.
Maurice felt the old familiar exhilaration—the soldier's exhilaration—quicken the beat of his pulse. He did not ask himself why he was here; he knew why. A delightful flower had sprung up in his heart, and fate had nipped it. Whither this new adventure would lead him he cared not. From now on life for him must be renewed by continual change and excitement. Since no one depended on him, his life was his to dispose of as he willed. Friends? He laughed. He knew the world too well. He himself was his best friend, for he had always been true to himself.
He might be shot, but he had faced that possibility before. Besides, to-day's experience would be new to him. He had never witnessed a battle in the open, man to man, in bright, resplendent uniforms. A ragged, dusty troop of brown-skinned men in faded blue, with free and easy hats, irregular of formation, no glory, no brilliancy, skirmishing with outlawed white men and cunning Indians, that was the extent of his knowledge by experience. True, these self-same men in dingy blue fought with a daring such as few soldiers living possessed; but they lacked the ideal picturesqueness which made this army so attractive.
The sharp edges of his recent fatigue were not yet dulled, but his cuirass sat lightly upon him, the sound of the dangling saber at his side smote pleasantly his ear, and the black Mecklenberg under him was strong and active. To return to Madame's chateau in the guise of a conqueror was a most engaging thought. She had humbled his self-love, now to humble hers! He no longer bothered himself about Beauvais, whose case he had placed in the hands of the Austrian ambassador.
Gay and debonair he rode that late September afternoon. No man around him had so clear an eye nor so constant a vivacity. Since he had nothing but his life to lose, he had no fear. Let the theater be full of light while the play lasted, and let the curtain fall to a round of huzzas! For a few short hours ago he had kissed a woman's hand and had looked into her sad brown eyes. “Why you do this I do not know, nor shall I ask. Monsieur, my prayers go with you.” Was not that an amulet? His diplomatic career! He fell to whistling.
“Ah! que j'aime les militaires!”
More than once the prince felt the sting of envy in his heart at the sight of this embodiment of supreme nonchalance. It spoke of a healthy salt in the veins, a salt such as kings themselves can not always boast of. A foreigner, a republican? No matter; a gallant man.
“Monsieur,” he said impulsively, “you shall always possess my friendship, once we are well out of this.”
“Thanks, your Highness,” replied Maurice, and laughing; “the after-thought is timely!”
The sun lay close to the western rim of hills; an opal sky encompassed the earth; the air was balmy.