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Updated: June 18, 2025
There is a girl wants to marry one man, and a woman who wants to marry her to another. Ponder the possibilities of tragedy in such a situation. Half this world's upheavals have had their source in less. Yet you, Rabecque, would have married!" Necessity at last turned his discourse to other matters. "Tell me, now," said he abruptly, in a different tone, "is there hereabouts a ford?"
A fellow rudely clad a hybrid between man-at-arms and lackey lounged on a musket to confront them in the gateway. Monsieur de Garnache announced his name, adding that he came to crave an audience of Madame la Marquise, and the man stood aside to admit him. Thus he and Rabecque rode forward into the roughly paved courtyard.
The host and Rabecque bustled now to minister to his wants between them, and when, jaded and worn, Garnache lay at last between good-smelling sheets with the feeling in him that he was like to sleep until the day of judgment, he issued his final orders. "Awake me at daybreak, Rabecque," said he drowsily. "We must be stirring then. Have horse ready and clothes for me.
Promptly at noon on the morrow Monsieur de Garnache presented himself once more at the Seneschal's palace, and with him went Rabecque, his body-servant, a lean, swarthy, sharp-faced man, a trifle younger than his master. Anselme, the obese master of the household, received them with profound respect, and at once conducted Garnache to Monsieur de Tressan's presence.
I will send others after you." The sergeant rose in his stirrups and growled an order. The troopers wheeled about; another order, and they were off, their cantering hoofs thundering down the narrow street. Rabecque clutched at the Lord Seneschal's arm. "Stop them, monsieur!" he almost screamed in his excitement. "Stop them! There is some snare, some trick in this."
I will go to Monsieur de Garnache." The Seneschal stared at him with contemptuously pouting underlip. "You will go?" said he. "And what can you do alone? Who are you?" he asked. "I am Monsieur de Garnache's servant." "A lackey? Ah!" And Tressan turned aside and resumed his orders as if Rabecque did not exist or had never spoken. "To the Champs aux Capuchins!" said he. "At the gallop, Pommier!
He did not know whether Monsieur Rabecque would forgive him for being disturbed; he could not say whether Monsieur Rabecque would consent to see this visitor at such an hour; very probably he would not. Still, monsieur might enter. Garnache cut him short before he had half done, announced his name and bade him convey it to Rabecque.
Valerie felt herself caught by the wrist, a trifle roughly she remembered afterwards, and hurried across the cobbles to the tethered horses, with which Rabecque was already busy. She saw Garnache raise his foot to the stirrup and hoist himself to the saddle. Then he held down a hand to her, bade her set her foot on his, and called with an oath to Rabecque to lend her his assistance.
"From the sombreness of your tone one might fear your news to be of the nature of some catastrophe. What shall it signify that Rabecque eludes your men? He is but a lackey after all." "True," said the Seneschal, very soberly; "but do not forget, I beg, that he is the bearer of letters from one who is not a lackey." The laughter went out of her face at that.
She had forgotten Rabecque until now; but an instant's reflection assured her that in forgetting him she had done him no more than such honour as he deserved. She laughed, as she led the way down the garden steps the mildness of the day and the brightness of her mood had moved her there to receive the Seneschal.
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