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Presently Detricand added in a composed and nonchalant tone: "I've no doubt there were those at Court who'd have clothed me in purple and fine linen, and given me wine and milk, but it was my whim to work in the galleys here, as it were." "Then I trust you've enjoyed your Botany Bay," answered Philip mockingly. "You've been your own jailer, you could lay the strokes on heavy or light."
The Duke's long residence in Vienna and freedom from share in the civil war in France had been factors in the choice of him when the name was submitted to the Directory by General Grandjon-Larisse, upon whom in turn it had been urged by Detricand. The Duc de Mauban was the most marked figure of the Court, the Emperor not excepted.
Yet I like not secrecy, though it be but for a month or two months on my vow, I like it not for one hour. N.: No more secret marriages nor special licenses most uncanonical privileges! N.: For ease of conscience write to His Grace at Lambeth upon the point. Detricand sprang to his feet. So this was the truth about Philip d'Avranche, about Guida, alas! He paced the tent, his brain in a whirl.
The sudden change in the old man's appearance had not been lost on the spectators, but they set it down to weakness or a sudden sickness. One ran for a glass of brandy, another for cider, and an old woman handed up to him a mogue of cinnamon drops. The old man tremblingly drank the brandy. When he looked again Detricand had disappeared.
"'See what comes of a name!" wrote Detricand. "'Here was a poor prisoner whose ancestor, hundreds of years ago, may or mayn't have been a relative of the d'Avranches of Clermont, when a disappointed duke, with an eye open for heirs, takes a fancy to the good-looking face of the poor prisoner, and voila! you have him whisked off to a palace, fed on milk and honey, and adopted into the family.
It was fair battle between these two, and there was enough hatred in the heart of each to make the fight deadly. He knew and he had known since that day, years ago, in the Place du Vier Prison that Detricand loved the girl whom he himself had married and dishonoured.
Turning from Philip, he said to Detricand with malicious triumph: "It will disconcert your pious mind to know I have yet one kinsman who counts it no shame to inherit Bercy. Monsieur le comte, I give you here the honour to know Captain Philip d'Avranche." Something of Detricand's old buoyant self came back to him. His face flushed with sudden desire to laugh, then it paled in dumb astonishment.
"What was that adventurer saying to you, Guida? In the suite of the Prince of Vaufontaine, my faith! What did he come here for?" Guida looked at him in surprise. She scarcely grasped the significance of the question. Before she had time to consider, he pressed it again, and without hesitation she told him all that had happened it was so very little, of course between Detricand and herself.
The Duc de Bercy to be harangued to his duty, scathed, measured, disapproved, and counselled, by a stripling Vaufontaine it was monstrous. It had the bitterness of aloes also, for in his own heart he knew that Detricand spoke truth.
A strange, thrilling silence fell upon all the Court. The jurats shifted in their seats with excitement. The Bailly, in a hoarse, dry voice, said: "We must have proof. There must be record as well as witness." From near the great doorway came a voice saying: "The record is here," and Detricand stepped forward, in his uniform of the army of the Vendee. A hushed murmur ran round the room.
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