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Updated: May 29, 2025
"To desire you to withdraw your men and quit Lavedan at once, abandoning the execution of your warrant." He flashed me a look of impotent hate. "You know of the existence of my warrant, Monsieur de Bardelys, and you must therefore realize that a royal mandate alone can exempt me from delivering Monsieur de Lavedan to the Keeper of the Seals."
The sound of my own voice seemed to invigorate me, to strip me of my awkwardness and self-consciousness. It broke the spell that for a moment had been over me, and brought me back to myself to the vain, self-confident, flamboyant Bardelys that perhaps you have pictured from my writings.
"By God, Bardelys!" "Wait!" I thundered, looking him straight between the eyes, so that again he sank back cowed.
I am perfectly acquainted with Monsieur de Chatellerault, and he with me, and if he were to speak the truth and play the man and the gentleman for once, he would tell you that I am, indeed, Bardelys. But Monsieur le Comte has ends of his own to serve in sending me to my doom. It is in a sense through his agency that I am at present in this position, and that I have been confounded with Lesperon.
"Sire," I answered, bending my head contritely, "I am desolated that my inclinations should run counter to your wishes, but to your wonted kindness and clemency I must look for forgiveness if these same inclinations drive me so relentlessly that I may not now turn back." He caught me viciously by the arm and looked sharply into my face. "You defy me, Bardelys?" he asked, in a voice of anger.
When she is won, it will be by some bold and gallant gentleman, and by no mincing squire of dames, no courtly coxcomb, no fop of the Luxembourg, be his experiences of dalliance never so vast." "Po' Cap de Dieu!" growled Cazalet, who was a Gascon captain in the Guards, and who swore strange, southern oaths. "Up, Bardelys! Afoot!
The sight of that stain recalled him to himself and to the manners he had allowed himself for a moment to forget. "Bardelys, a thousand apologies for my clumsiness," he muttered. "Spilt wine," I laughed, "is a good omen." And for once I accepted that belief, since but for the shedding of that wine and its sudden effect upon him, it is likely we had witnessed a shedding of blood.
And with a deprecatory smile I added, "I am said somewhat to resemble him." "Say you so?" she exclaimed, raising her eyebrows, and looking at me more closely than hitherto. And then it seemed to me that into her face crept a shade of disappointment. If this Bardelys were not more beautiful than I, then he was not nearly so beautiful a man as she had imagined. She turned to Saint-Eustache.
And so, presently, Good-Humour spread her mantle over us anew, and quip and jest and laughter decked our speech, until the noise of our merry-making drifting out through the open windows must have been borne upon the breeze of that August night down the rue Saint-Dominique, across the rue de l'Enfer, to the very ears perhaps of those within the Luxembourg, telling them that Bardelys and his friends kept another of those revels which were become a byword in Paris, and had contributed not a little to the sobriquet of "Magnificent" which men gave me.
"Why should I undertake this thing?" "To prove me wrong," he taunted me. "To prove me clumsy. Come, Bardelys, what of your spirit?" "I confess I would do much to afford you the proof you ask. But to take a wife! Pardi! That is much indeed!" "Bah!" he sneered. "You do well to draw back You are wise to avoid discomfiture. This lady is not for you.
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