"You will accept my unconditional withdrawal," Sir Edward continued. "Nay, more, if you desire it, it shall be more openly proclaimed."
For answer le Duc d'Eautine handed his sword to his second, and took Sir Edward's outstretched hand in both of his.
"Sir Edward Rivington," he exclaimed, "I am too honored. Say no more. My greatest pride is that I have won the respect of England's Ambassador; my greatest honor that I have gained the friendship of a splendid swordsman."
These and many other high-flown compliments, dear to our nation, passed between them and between their seconds, until it seemed we must all have floated back to olden times, to the stately days of the Louis—so anxious was each man to pay courtly compliments to the other.
Mon Dieu! what changeable mortals, what creatures of impulse men are; and yet they say that we women are wavering and fickle!
"You will be my guest, mon ami, for just another day?" the Duke hazarded, doubtfully, it must be confessed.
"My dear friend," replied the Ambassador, "don't you think that you have delayed the course of diplomatic relations sufficiently long? I expect you will get into disgrace for this attack upon my sacred person, as it is," and he broke into a merry laugh.
"I have made one true friend," returned the Duke, seriously; "what matter the means? Should I find it necessary to suddenly quit France, I shall carry with me the honor of counting yourself among those whom I hold nearest to my heart."
"Quit France! All nonsense," brusquely interjected Sir Edward. "Put your best team to a coach, and I'll drive you all back to Paris; then, for a moment, the urgency of State affairs, et après, in a poor way you will permit me to return your hospitality. At seven, mes amis, at the 'Bristol.'"
Sir Edward Rivington must have been a past master of all the arts. As he handled his rapier perfectly, so he drove the four-in-hand; and, doubtless, in all other things he was equally admirable. These English are so thorough.