“Keep on hating them; ’tis very wholesome.”
Then, it was time for him to go, and rising, he said to her,—
“Good-bye, Bess. I pray you to remember me, and reckon me first among your friends.”
Then, holding each other’s hands, they parted solemnly and affectionately, Bess saying,—
“Roger, of all the people in the world, you are the best friend I have, and I love you honestly, as you love me; so good-bye, and God keep you.”
She tiptoed and kissed his forehead near the scar she had given him, and Roger, lifting her shapely but coarse hand to his lips, kissed it as if it were the hand of a duchess; and that was their parting.
CHAPTER X
HO! FOR ORLAMUNDE
AT five o’clock, Roger found Berwick waiting for him at the Porte St. Martin, and then taking the road briskly, they arrived at St. Germains before eight o’clock.
In the guard-room, they were told that the company of gentlemen-at-arms had got marching orders, and on the next morning would be reviewed by the King for the last time. All of these men had strange and mixed feelings. They were to descend outwardly from their estate of gentlemen, and become common soldiers, as far as their pay and duty were concerned. But they were to rank with the musketeers of the French King, of whom both rank and file were gentlemen; nor could any except a gentleman be of this picked corps, and the Duke of Berwick was to command them. These Jacobite gentlemen regarded themselves naturally as both heroes and martyrs, and being bold and adventurous spirits, the thought of the coming campaign, under the great Maréchal de Luxembourg, gave them rather relief as a blessed change from the tedium of St. Germains, and the piteous sight of their royal master, whom they were unable to help. And so, with pain and joy, with hope and with sad retrospection they performed their last guard duty.
On the morrow, the commandant of the guard, General Buchan, paraded it under arms for the last time as the household troops of James Stuart. It was a sombre February morning, the snow flying, and a bitter wind cutting the keen air. They were formed in the courtyard of the château, facing the main entrance. General Buchan was at their head. They remained motionless for a few minutes,—a soldierly body of men, each man an exile for conscience’ sake.