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Updated: June 15, 2025
There could be no mistake as to his purpose. The quarrel was an artificial quarrel the object was murder. De Malfort, provoked at the unexpected strength of Fareham's fence, attempted a partial disarmament, after the deadly Continental method.
The word was given, and the business of engagement proceeded slowly and warily, for a few moments that seemed minutes; and then the blades were firmly joined in carte, and a series of rapid feints began, De Malfort having a slight advantage in the neatness of his circles, and the swiftness of his wrist play.
Hyacinth put her arm through Angela's, and led her slowly along the grassy walk to the great gates, the Frenchman and Mrs. Lettsome following; and unversed as the convent-bred girl was in the ways of this particular world, she could nevertheless perceive that in the conversation between these two, M. de Malfort was amusing himself at the expense of his fair companion.
"She would only preach me a sermon upon Fareham's tastes and wishes, and urge me to stay away because he abhors a fashionable comedy," she told De Malfort, "I shall say I am going to Lady Sarah's to play basset. Ange hates cards, and will not desire to go with me. She is always happy with the children, who adore her." "Faute de mieux." "You are so ready to jeer!
De Malfort had begun the fight with an insolent smile upon his lips, the smile of a man who believes himself invincible, while Fareham's countenance never changed from the black anger that had darkened it all that night. It was a face that meant death. A man who had never been a duellist, who had raised his voice sternly against the practice of duelling, stood there intent upon bloodshed.
De Malfort was the last who entered. He kissed her ladyship's hand, looked about him, and recognised Fareham with open wonder. "An Israelite in the house of Dagon!" he said, sotto voce, as he approached him. "What, Fareham, have you given your neck to the yoke? Do you yield to the charm which has subjugated such lighter natures as Villiers and Buckhurst?" "It is only human to love variety.
The last lines died away in the distance of the moonlit garden, as the singers slowly retired, while Henri de Malfort illustrated that final couplet with Hyacinth's fan, as he sat beside her. "Music, and moonlight, and a garden. You might fancy yourself amidst the grottoes and terraces of St. Germain."
"Let him choose. I will fight him with cannon or with soap-bubbles," answered De Malfort, lolling back in his chair, tilted at an angle of forty-five, and drumming a gay dance tune with his finger-tips on the table. "'Tis a foolish imbroglio from first to last: and only his lordship and I know how foolish. He came here to provoke a quarrel, and I must indulge him.
"Pardieu!" exclaimed De Malfort, "there are tragedies and comedies in the boxes deeper and more human than anything that is acted on the stage. To watch the Queen, sitting silent and melancholy, while Madame Barbara lolls across half a dozen people to talk to his Majesty, dazzling him with her brilliant eyes, bewildering him by her daring speech.
Papillon was almost always with them; and De Malfort spent more of his life in attendance upon Lady Fareham than at Oxford, where he was supposed to be living. Mrs. Lettsome and her brother were frequent guests; and coach-loads of fine people came over from the court almost every day.
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