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"You are right fools fools," answered de Praille, as he motioned to the servants for more wine. "By the way," asked the lady who had first spoken, "you have heard the news?" As no one had heard anything particularly new for the last two hours, she continued by saying: "They say that the new minister of police is as hard as a stone, and cold as a fish.
"Yes, and more, too," answered Picard, who enjoyed immensely being able to impart some information to his superiors. "Why, how do you suppose he acts to the common people who want to see him? His creditors, for instance?" "Why, if they are importunate, he beats them, I suppose," answered de Praille, who often "settled" bills thus. "Yes, he beats them," sneered Picard; "he pays them!
"Yes, I know these Normandy beauties!" scorned one of the ladies, betraying in spite of herself a tinge of jealousy. "Rustics! Quite unpolished and de trop," chimed in another fair one, cat-like in her verbal claws. "Laugh away, ladies," said de Praille gayly. "You shall see a real Norman beauty, and then see how jealous you will all become at sight of her."
They knew not the ways of Courts, but native courtesy and naive simplicity were theirs. Presently the elder girl found herself telling the distinguished personage all the details of their trip, the appointment with M. Martin, and the hope of curing Louise by a visit to the Faculty. The gallant de Praille, all bows and smirks, was offering them the hospitality of the chaise.
Then, facing his bewildered host, he said in calm even tones to the girl: "Come, Mademoiselle, we will leave this place." Suiting the word to the action, he offered his arm to Henriette and started to go. With a fury restrained only by conventional usages, de Praille was across their path and barred the way with his wand. "This is my house," he said hoarsely, "and I will not permit this insult!"
"Well, what do you think of my retreat from the whirl and bustle of Paris?" asked Marquis de Praille of his vis-a-vis, who was a dashing sort of beauty. "My dear Marquis," replied that lady, "I am delighted. It is a satisfaction to find a gentleman who maintains the customs of his rank." "And yet there are fools who want to change them," exclaimed a young nobleman from the opposite table.
Glory be! her protector was parrying the Marquis' wild thrusts while he himself bided an opening. It came with a suddenness as dramatic as the duel itself. A lunge of the villain had left his own side exposed. De Vaudrey sidestepped and as he did so plunged his rapier between the ribs of the owner of Bel-Air. The mortally stricken de Praille sank back against a marble bench.
De Praille had now grasped her firmly by the waist and shoulders, his sensual breath was on her cheek, a last cry escaped her: "Among all these noblemen, is there not ONE MAN OF HONOR?" The despairing outcry pierced the Chevalier's shallow cynicism, touching the finer feelings that had lain dormant. He sprang to her side, dashed de Praille's arms from her exquisite form.
As he spoke, the chimes sounded midnight. "Do you hear? After twelve o'clock, no one ever leaves Bel-Air!" For answer de Vaudrey dashed aside the extended wand, escorted the kidnapped girl to the foot of the staircase. De Praille was upon them again. This time he drew his sword. Fascinated, the courtiers and their women companions watched the outcome.
Down the other side of the narrow turn of the road where the accident had occurred, thundered the beautiful carved and gilded chaise of a famous nobleman, Marquis de Praille, accompanied by gallant outriders and backed by liveried footmen on the high rear seats. Inside the equipage were the Marquis and his commissionaire La Fleur. The black and dusty old stage coach blocked the way.
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