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I wanted to put an end at once to the matter, and had gone to Vienna for the purpose of so doing. I entered the Austrian army as Count Leon Barthelmy, in order to be near my chosen emissary. But my scheme was without result.
The program for the evening's entertainment was a varied one. Colonel Barthelmy was in the gayest of humors. The surprise of the evening was to conclude the entertainment, and was called on the program "The Militiaman." Every one in the audience expected that Colonel Barthelmy, who had arranged this part of the entertainment, would produce something extremely amusing.
"You will have to remain unconvinced," in an equally excited tone retorted Count Vavel; and for a brief instant it was a question which of the two enraged men would strike the first blow. The threatening scene was suddenly concluded by the baroness, who flung back her veil, exclaiming: "Here, Colonel Barthelmy, you may convince yourself that I am not your wife."
After a brief struggle he regained command of himself, and said quietly: "I shall, of course, reply: 'On my word as a man of honor, this lady is not Ange Barthelmy." "But if that does not satisfy him? Suppose he should insist on seeing the lady? Suppose he even attempts to lift the lady's veil?" "Then he dies!"
All I know is that there is under your protection a woman to whom you are everything, and who will have no one should she lose you." "But what can I do?" in desperation exclaimed Count Vavel. "I cannot hide in my castle until Colonel Barthelmy leaves the neighborhood. Would you have me confess to all the world that I am a coward?"
"Herr Vicomte Leon de Barthelmy," calmly replied Count Vavel, "I give you my word of honor as a cavalier that this lady never was your wife." The colonel laughed in a peculiar manner. "Your word of honor, Herr Count, would be entirely satisfactory in all other questions save those relating to the fair sex and to war.
The colonel's companions, who had come hastily forward at the threatened conflict between their superior and the count, were gazing in a peculiar manner at the lady whose hospitality they had so lately enjoyed. Colonel Barthelmy also, although he bowed with elaborate courtesy before the baroness, cast upon her a glance that was full of insulting scorn.
"Do you believe it, baroness?" "I? Perhaps not. But Colonel Barthelmy believes it all the more firmly because you refused to see him." "And suppose he had seen me?" "He would have asked you to introduce him to your family." "Then he would have learned that I have no family." "But you could not have refused to tell him what relation you bear to the lady at the castle."
However, the evening before the regiment took its departure the colonel said to me: 'I have kept my word to you, baroness; but to-morrow I cease to be your guest. I shall take steps then to learn if the mysterious lady at the Nameless Castle be Ange Barthelmy or some one else." At these words a deep flush crimsoned Count Vavel's face.
"To Barthelmy the painter, for making the cover of a pasty for the Count of Charolais to present to Monseigneur on the night of St. Gachard says that they placed at the top of their letter their titles of sheriffs and deans, as princes and lords take the title of their seignories. Chastellain, ii., 278. La Marche, ii., 313. Lavisse, Histoire de France, accepts 13,000 as the number slain.
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