With this, she marched out. Five minutes later, when she came back into the bedroom, Madame de Beaumanoir was sitting up majestically in bed, a full set of very white teeth in her mouth, her cheeks reddened, and a wig on her head, though in the haste of preparation, the maid had clapped the wig on before removing the nightcap. But Madame de Beaumanoir, serenely unconscious, and with her stateliest air, said:
“Pray, pardon my agitation; but I was much alarmed at having my bed-curtains pulled open, and seeing a stranger at my bedside.”
Bess, in the midst of her distress, could not but smile, but she only said,—
“I did not know I was so alarming. However,” she added, gravely, “your Ladyship’s Grace must know that only something of the most pressing nature would induce me to rouse you at this hour. It is to tell you the desperate news concerning D— I mean Mr. Richard Egremont, the Jesuit priest. He is now in Newgate prison under sentence of death. I take horses for Paris this night on my way to London to see if he can be saved. I know that hateful prison well, and if I have money enough I may be able to get him out of that place and out of England. I have some money in Paris,—a thousand livres,—but I know not if that will be enough. You once told me—that day upon the terrace long ago—that if I wanted a service to come to you. Now I come to you to redeem that promise. I want more money—much money—all the money you can lay your hands on to-night—to help me save Mr. Richard Egremont from the gallows. If I live I will pay it back, whether I can save his life or no.”
Madame de Beaumanoir looked at Bess, as she deliberately uttered this.
“I know a good deal about you, Lukens,” she said, condescendingly; “you want some money immediately. You shall have all that I can command at this moment. I scarcely know young Egremont, but I know his cousin, Mr. Roger Egremont, and I knew all that family in days past.”
She motioned to the maid, who brought her a dressing-case; from it she took some gold and notes.
“Here,” she said, “are about twelve hundred livres. Take them and try to save the poor lad. I cannot bear the thought of a good-looking Englishman being hanged. There are too few of them anyway. François shall take you to Paris to-night.”
Bess put the money into the pocket of her gown, and then, stooping over, surprised Madame de Beaumanoir very much by giving her a rousing smack of a kiss on either cheek. And then, running out, she called loudly,—
“Mr. François! Mr. François! you are to take me to Paris to-night!”