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Updated: July 22, 2025
Slowly and reluctantly, as though in deference to an order that he loathed but dared not disobey, Monmouth drew his arm away; he loosed Barbara's hand, she drew back, leaning against the wall; the Duke stood with his arms by his side, looking at the man who interrupted his sport and seemed to have power to control his will. Then, at last, in crisp, curt, ungracious tones, M. de Perrencourt spoke.
I felt the lightest pressure on my hand, the touch of two slim fingers, speaking of sympathy and comradeship. "By God, I'll bring you safe out of it," I cried. "But how, how? Simon, I fear that he has " "The Duke?" "No, the the other M. de Perrencourt; he has set his heart on on what he told me." "A man may set his heart on a thing and yet not win it," said I grimly.
Well, the King sets the mode, and the King, I heard, was closeted with Madame and the Duke of York. But not with M. de Perrencourt. There was a hundred feet of the wall, with a guard at one end and a guard at the other, and mid-way between them a solitary figure stood looking down on Dover town and thence out to sea. In an instant I recognised him, and a great desire came over me to speak to him.
"It was you?" "It was I, madame. Tell me on whose account three messengers went to London, carrying the words 'Il vient." She was hanging to my arm now, full of eagerness. "And tell me now what M. de Perrencourt said to you. A plague on him, he spoke so low that I couldn't hear!" A blush swept over her face; her eyes, losing the fire of excitement, dropped in confusion to the ground.
Lord Carford said nothing. I was about to interrupt his Grace when the task was better performed for me. I think, madame, you owe some thanks to M. de Perrencourt." "You heard what he said?" "The last few words only," I answered regretfully. She looked at me for an instant, and then said with a dreary little smile, "I'm to be grateful to M. de Perrencourt?"
My voice was loud and bold as I gave to M. de Perrencourt the name that was his, the name by which the frightened lord and the cowed Duke knew him, the name that gave him entrance to those inmost secret conferences, and yet kept him himself hidden and half a prisoner in the Castle. The secret was no secret to me now.
I have heard it said that King Charles laughed most heartily when he learnt how a certain gentleman had tricked M. de Perrencourt and carried off from his clutches the lady who should have gone to prepare for the Duchess of York's visit to the Court of France. "This Uriah will not be set in the forefront of the battle," said he, "and therefore David can't have his way."
Indeed, I had looked for Monmouth's voice first, for an oath of vexation at the interruption, for a curse on the intruder and a haughty order to him to be gone and not interfere with what concerned his betters. No such word, nor any words, issued from the mouth of the Duke. And still M. de Perrencourt was silent.
"Here, sir, and everywhere," he said, "you have only to command to be obeyed." Slowly he bent his head low, the gesture matching the humility of his words, while it emphasised their unwillingness. The strange submission won no praise. M. de Perrencourt did not accord the speech so much courtesy as lay in an answer.
Monmouth shook him off with a laugh and an oath. "I'm not going to listen," he cried. "Why should I listen? Do I want to hear the King praying to the Virgin?" "Silence, for God's sake, silence, your Grace," implored Carford. "That's what he does, isn't it? He, and the Queen's Chaplain, and the " "Pray, sir!" "And our good M. de Perrencourt, then?"
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