Then the Vicomte turned to Galmoy. “I have said nothing, my Lord, because I did not wish to interfere, as I thought your Lordship would have treated this gentleman as a fair prisoner of war. It is now my duty to speak; I trust your Lordship will hear me.”
Galmoy had now recovered his temper and answered De Laprade with a show of courtesy. “Certainly, my dear Vicomte, there is no one to whom I listen with greater pleasure. But I trust you will not ask me to alter this little arrangement.”
“You will pardon me; I have told you that I am under an obligation to this gentleman, and but for that obligation I should have been lying beside Luttrel on the high-road. I always endeavour to pay my debts of honour, and if need be I borrow from my friends to discharge them.”
“Faith! my creditors will tell you that I find it hard enough to discharge my own.”
“When the fight was over, the captain who has escaped showed a great mind to pistol me, when this Monsieur Orme, at great peril to his life, for I apprehended a pretty quarrel, stepped between us and compelled him to forbear. To him I owe my life, and I should be wanting in gratitude if I failed to avow the service he has done me.”
“There is not a traitor or a rebel in the country who has not a loyal subject to plead for him. God´s wounds! Viscount, you forget that he first attacked you on the high road, and that he has worn the uniform of His Majesty, whom Heaven preserve.”
“But, my Lord, I do not forget. These rebels have not saved my life and I do not intercede for them. I have lent my sword and service to the King of England, but I do not forget that I am a gentleman and a man of honour. In France we do not put our prisoners to the torture, nor will I fight in the company of those who do. Rather would I break my sword across my knees and disown the name I bear.”
“The Vicomte de Laprade is right, my Lord,” said the officer who had recognized Gervase. “Gratitude is a most estimable virtue, and exceedingly rare. In return for his services perhaps your Lordship will pretermit the young gentleman´s drinking the health, and merely give him his dry quietus in the morning.”
“With you, sir,” said De Laprade coldly, “I have no dealings now nor at any future time. I ask you, my Lord, for this gentleman´s life. ´Tis the only return I am likely to receive, and indeed it is all I ask.”
“I regret, my dear Vicomte, that I am unable to do your will in this matter, but we must hold out a warning to others. However, as Butler has suggested, he need not dance to-night. Sergeant, you need not apply the thumbscrew. And for you, sir, you can make up your mind to set the example you hinted at. As it is, you may thank Viscount de Laprade that you have escaped a dram that was like to prove bitter enough, but had I had my own way, you should have had both the dram and the halter for a renegade deserter.”