'He delayed.
'"Up with it, or by the soul of St. Andrew, I will shoot you through the heart!"
'He held it up, and in an instant my bullet whistled right through the palm of it.
'"A thousand curses!" he exclaimed, in a voice hoarse with rage and pain, as he dashed his pistol at my head; but I forced him to apologise for daring to jostle me, and so the affair ended.'
'Bravo!' said the old Marechal de Logis; 'Fier comme un Ecossais! as the French have it.'
'After this camisado, we hired horses, and at Rouen swam them through the river Seine in sheer bravado, because the bridge of boats had been swept away. At Santeville, the Viscount fought a duel in defence of a grisette, and disarmed his antagonist, a gigantic officer of Swiss, at the third pass; and so, without further adventure, we reached Paris this morning. These are our adventures; and now Mr. Blane for yours.'
I soon related mine at least, all with which I deemed it prudent to acquaint two such hare-brained youths as my new comrades.
'Now, my Lord Dundrennan and gentlemen, you are fairly enrolled as members of king Louis' Ancient Scottish Guard,' said the Marshal de Logis; 'be pleased to sign your names here, after the usual oaths of allegiance and fidelity to his most Christian Majesty, which are all in accordance with those acts of the Scottish Parliament, by which the subjects of France and Scotland are naturalised each in the country of the other. Then we shall adjourn to the Fleur-de-lis, where you must all dine with me. I will bring two or three other gentlemen of the corps, and we will have all your news about poor old Scotland, the king and kirk, over a few bottles of prime burgundy.'
'Thanks, Marechal de Logis,' said the Viscount.
'With pleasure,' said I; and after Patrick Gordon had bundled away his documents, we took our swords and cloaks, and sallied forth.