A DUEL
Nothing pleased de Lotbinière better than shaping a policy. His dark
eyes were constantly full of plan, whether they looked at you or into
the masses of a boulevard flowing with people, or at his own prospects
or those of his family pictured in the future.
Upon the mother-of-pearl writing-desk in front of him lay his journal,
containing, in a close and perfect handwriting--of a piece with his
skill as a Royal Engineer in military designing--an industrious account
of whatever incidents seemed from day to day of use to him. The entry
visible at the head of the new page read--"Répentigny absolutely refuses
to prosecute the impostor."
The Marquis, however, was for the moment engaged upon a letter pressing
his interests with the Minister, and in which he was composing the
sentence--"Thus, my Lord, I find myself again in possession of the happy
privilege of humbly recalling to you my services, resulting, with those
of General Montcalm, in the great victories of Ticonderoga and Fort
William Henry, and I----"
He reached the bell-rope and pulled it. His servant immediately entered.
"You will take this letter which I am signing to the Palace of the
Louvre, where you will ask for the third supernumerary private Secretary
of the Minister, to whom you are to hand it with the money there on the
table, and say that it is sent by the Marquis de Lotbinière. Repeat the
name _twice_ very distinctly to him, and see there is no mistake about
_third_ or _supernumerary_ or _private_. Here it is. Seal and carry it.
Have you brought me no mail this morning?"
"I was about to hand you this note, Monseigneur."
De Lotbinière looked methodically at the seal, the handwriting, and the
date of the postmark.
"Go," he said to the servant.
The incoming letter was from Louis de Léry, begging his uncle's advice
in the affair of Lecour.
"The horror I have," wrote he, after relating the circumstances,
"is not of death, for in that respect I shall not be found unworthy
of our ancestors. It is solely the horror--the disgust--of being
compelled to measure myself with a being so ill-assorted. I cannot
limit myself in expressions at my comrades who force this upon me,
nor of detestation and repugnance towards _the creature itself_.
What am I do? Your experience just now would be invaluable to me.
"LOUIS R. C. DE LÉRY."
"_Peste_, what a fine mess for us all!" de Lotbinière exclaimed. "The
persistence of this fellow is incredible. They say de Bailleul supports
him. I shall begin, then, by removing the support of de Bailleul. Louis
must not fight this duel."
He picked out a sheet from his pile of gilt-edged note-paper, laid it
down, selected a quill and tried it, then wrote de Bailleul a sharp
letter, as follows--
"MON CHER DE BAILLEUL,--They tell me to my amazement that it is you
who are the protector of the young Canadian Lecour, who is just
now making such a noise as an adventurer. He has at least obtained
a high commission in the Bodyguard by the use of your name. I have
no doubt that you are aware that he is the son of Lecour of St.
Elphège, my former _cantineer_. Can it be true that, knowing his
birth to be so base, you go so far as to permit him the use of your
position in these intrigues? If that be so--for I hesitate to
credit it--let me go farther and remark that a most serious
consequence has just followed his indiscretion. He challenges my
nephew, de Léry, for a date fixed and imminent. We consider you
responsible for this situation. I consequently trust that you will
find some way to suppress your brazen-faced _protégé_.
"And I have the honour to be, sir, &c.,
"THE MIS. DE CHARTIER DE LOTBINIÈRE."
"That will end him," remarked he, and reading it over, he folded,
addressed and sealed it, and putting on his hat and gloves proceeded to
the General Depôt of the Post. There he took out his watch, noted the
hour and minute, and handed in the letter.
The Chevalier was then in Versailles, so that Lotbinière's note reached
him quickly, and he replied--
"MY DEAR SIR,--Your note is a great shock to me. I have not slept
nor lain down all night, on account of the matter of our young
countryman, which is one of the most unfortunate in the world. He
is as a son to me; and out of my feelings for him I beseech you to
treat him considerately, for you cannot know how sensitive and
fine-minded he is; the immediate ruin would kill him. Let us rather
combine to withdraw him more gradually from his false position.
Cannot the quarrel between the young men be softened by gentle
means? As for myself, I am ready to use my best influence with you
in that direction."
The Marquis read the letter over twice.
"He is asking quarter," he ultimately pronounced; "clemency is asked of
the victor: well, I will be clement. Lecour shall first write a humble
retraction of all his claims. This shall be left in my hands by him for
thirty days, during which the pretender shall leave France. De Léry will
then exhibit the retraction, with attestations both by myself and de
Bailleul."
De Lotbinière contemplated the cupids frescoed on the frieze urbanely.
He was victor.
A knock came, and the Marquis de Répentigny was ushered in.
"See," said he, "what is going all over Paris"; and he gave a newspaper
passage to de Lotbinière to read.
The item ran--
"The duel between the two Bodyguards, Monsieur de Léry and the Chevalier
de Répentigny, took place this morning at four o'clock in the woods of
Bois du Lac. It is said that on account of some provincial quarrel, the
former had insulted the latter by denying his gentility, of which,
however, the Chevalier had made the amplest proofs on entering his
regiment. During the duel, he displayed the firmest yet most amiable
spirit, and having disarmed M. de Léry upon the _coup de tierce_,
magnanimously refused to draw blood. The seconds then interfered and
declared the honour of the combatants satisfied."
"Devil! _Peste!_ Species of pig!" de Lotbinière cried, his rage finding
too few words.
"I just now heard some more details from an officer of of the Lambesc
Dragoons," Répentigny continued. "My namesake was perfectly silent;
Louis, on the contrary, quite unlike his ordinary manner, made no
attempt to control himself. He never ceased to exclaim, 'Clodfoot!
Impostor!' and to taunt the stranger at each stroke with his father's
origin. Finally Louis was disarmed, whereupon, with the same silence,
Lecour handed back his sword--'with great dignity' said the Dragoon, and
Louis refused to receive it."
"'With great dignity!'" shouted de Lotbinière--"You speak as though you
had no feeling."
"On the contrary," replied Répentigny, "I am very sorry for every one
concerned."
"Save your pity! I shall now bring up my heavy guns."