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Updated: May 12, 2025
Until a lightly spoken: "Hullo, my dear Clyffurde!" uttered gaily as the rider drew near to the edge of the road, brought the name of "Victor de Marmont!" to Bobby's quivering lips.
You have got intrigues on the brain, my good de Marmont." And with well-feigned indifference, he settled himself more cosily into the dark corner of the carriage. De Marmont laughed. "What Fourier's afternoon visit has to do with Mme. d'Agen's journey?" he retorted, "I'll tell you, my good Clyffurde. Fourier went to see M. le Comte de Cambray this afternoon because he is a poltroon.
That the great adventurer's triumph would be short-lived Clyffurde was perfectly sure. He knew the temper of England and believed in the military genius of Wellington.
The worthy General did not belie his name, I assure you, he looked mightily scared when he recognised Emery." "He was alone with his aide-de-camp and in his coach," retorted St. Genis, "whilst that traitor Emery, you and your friend Mr. Clyffurde were on horseback you gave him the slip easily enough." "That's true, of course," said de Marmont simply. "Well, shall we go, my dear Clyffurde?"
Genis had behaved like an abominable blackguard! this he gathered from what she said: he had lied like a mean skunk and betrayed the man who had rendered him an infinitely great service. Of him Clyffurde wouldn't even think!
A moment later she saw him and came more quickly across the room, with hand extended, and an air of gracious condescension in her whole attitude. "Ah! M. Clyffurde," she said in perfect English, "I did not know you were here .
"Gloves are very nice things and better manufactured at Grenoble than anywhere else in the world. The English coquettes are very wise in getting their gloves from Grenoble through the good offices of Mr. Clyffurde."
For the moment, however, Clyffurde seemed to have forgotten the older man's presence; wounded in every fibre of his being by the woman whom he loved so tenderly and so devotedly, he had spoken only to her, compelling her attention and stirring even by this simple admission of a despicable crime an emotion in her which she could not would not define.
In times like these all one's friends must be above suspicion. Clyffurde knew that there was nothing to be said. With a quickly suppressed sigh, he too turned away and in his habitual, English, dogged way he resolutely set his teeth, and with a firm soldierly step walked quietly out of the room.
Why should an angel thank God that he Bobby Clyffurde was not likely to die? He opened his eyes to see what it all meant, and he saw bending over him a face that was more exquisitely fair than any that man had ever seen: eyes that were more blue than the sky above, lips that trembled like rose-leaves in the breeze.
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