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One evening, three weeks gone, I observed a very elegant equipage draw up to my door, and the Duke of Chateaurien was announced. The young man's manners were worthy according to the French acceptance and 'twere idle to deny him the most monstrous assurance. He declared himself a noble traveling for pleasure.
You know what figure he hath cut in Bath since that evening. All ran merrily with him until several days ago Captain Badger denounced him as an impostor, vowing that Chateaurien was nothing." "Pardon," interrupted M. Beaucaire. "'Castle Nowhere' would have been so much better. Why did you not make him say it that way, monsieur?"
Almost before the noise of their own steeds they came riding down the moonlit aisle between the mists. Chosen men, these servants of Beaucaire, and like a thunderbolt they fell upon the astounded cavaliers. "Chateaurien! Chateaurien!" they shouted, and smote so swiftly that, through lack of time, they showed no proper judgment, discriminating nothing between non-combatants and their master's foes.
"I am a little but jus' a trifling bruise'; 'tis all." "You shall ride in the coach," she whispered. "Will you be pleased, M. de Chateaurien?" "Ah, my beautiful!" She seemed to wave before him like a shining mist. "I wish that ride might las' for always! Can you say that, mademoiselle?" "Monseigneur," she cried in a passion of admiration, "I would what you would have be, should be.
When the stately junket was concluded, it was the pleasure of M. de Chateaurien to form one of the escort of Lady Mary's carriage for the return. As they took the road, Sir Hugh Guilford and Mr. Bantison, engaging in indistinct but vigorous remonstrance with Mr. Molyneux over some matter, fell fifty or more paces behind, where they continued to ride, keeping up their argument.
He had discovered a lackey whom he had seen waiting upon Beaucaire in attendance at the door of this Chateaurien's lodging. Beaucaire had disappeared the day before Chateaurien's arrival. Captain Badger looked closely at Chateaurien at their next meeting, and identified him with the missing Beaucaire beyond the faintest doubt. Overcome with indignation, he immediately proclaimed the impostor.
It prove only the inspiration it is to know you." "We English ladies hear plenty of the like sir; and we even grow brilliant enough to detect the assurance that lies beneath the courtesies of our own gallants." "Merci! I should believe so!" ejaculated M. de Chateaurien: but he smothered the words upon his lips. Her eyes were not lifted.
But to-night, monsieur ha, ha! to-night, monsieur, you and me, two princes, M. le Duc de Winterset and M. le Duc de Chateaurien ha, ha! you see? we are goin' arm-in-arm to that ball, and I am goin' have one of those looks, I! And a rose! I! It is time. But ten minute', monsieur.
He did not reach his deduction. M. de Chateaurien, breaking into his narrative, addressed him very quietly. "Monsieur," he said, "none but swine deny the nobleness of that good and gentle lady, Mademoiselle la Princesse de Bourbon-Conti.
So I say, 'Take me to Lady Malbourne's ball as "Chateaurien." I throw off my wig, and shave, and behol', I am M. le Duc de Castle Nowhere. Ha, ha! You see?" The young man's manner suddenly changed. He became haughty, menacing. He stretched out his arm, and pointed at Winterset. "Now I am no 'Beaucaire, messieurs. I am a French gentleman.
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