THE HONOUR OF THE HOUSE.
The next morning about mid-day Valentin Debrasques was making his way
slowly through all the numerous impediments that encumbered the ground
between the spot where the dragoons of Listenai were encamped on one
side of Gross-Saxen, and the town of Ladenburg where Turenne's
headquarters were. It was difficult enough to progress quickly since,
first, he would encounter a regiment or a battalion passing from one
point to another, or next, be stopped upon his journey by a long
string of baggage waggons, or the artillery with their heavy guns
moving in the direction of where the Imperialists were under the
command of the Duke de Bournonville--nor, indeed, was he particularly
anxious to progress much more rapidly than at present he was doing.
He was engaged upon the most hateful journey which he had ever yet
undertaken; was about to pay a visit to the cousin whom, not a year
before, he had requested never to speak to him again. Yet, now,
because he deemed it was for the honour of his house to do so, he was
going to that cousin's quarters to seek an interview with him--to
demand that he should receive his visit.
When Churchill had said overnight that, without doubt, the red-haired
officer was the Vicomte de Bois-Vallée, the young marquis knew that
further concealment was impossible, and that the gallant soldier whose
name was Vause must ere long come into contact with him--and he
dreaded that contact, not for his cousin's sake, but for Vause's. For
he had learnt a year ago (not from Bois-Vallée himself, but from a
joint friend of theirs who had been in England at the same time as the
Vicomte) of what he had done there--he had learnt, also, that the man
who had been so cruelly injured was called Vause. And he remembered
the name well enough--better, perhaps, than he might have remembered
it had it been an ordinary English one, from the simple fact that
there were many of the same name in France. He thought, therefore,
that, like so many of his countrymen, this Englishman inherited his
name from some French ancestor who had originally passed over to
England. But, be this how it might, he did remember it as being the
name of him who had been so vilely injured, and, when the man sitting
in his room in Paris had said he was so called, it had agitated him to
such an extent that the broken glass and the spilt wine had been the
result.
Yet, still, there was one thing he could not understand--Andrew Vause
showed no sign of recognition when he saw the picture hanging in his
hall, nor when he saw the man himself. Had they, therefore, never met?
It might be so. He knew the Englishman was a soldier who, by his own
showing, had roamed about Europe fighting in one campaign and another;
the wrong might have been done when his back was turned--when he was
away.
It seemed, indeed, that such must be the case from the first words
Andrew spoke when, Churchill and the other officer having ridden
slowly ahead, they, with the dragoons as well as the baggage train,
which had been sent back for, followed.
"Therefore," Andrew said, "that is De Bois-Vallée. And your cousin.
So, so! A pity."
"I hoped you would never have met," the marquis said; "that you would
never have known that he was here in this campaign. Never, never! We
have grown firm friends--sworn comrades--and, God! it is a shame! It
is from our house that the offence has come."
"Never have met!" Andrew repeated. "Never have met!" Then, after a
moment's pause, he said: "Debrasques, there must be no concealment
between us, come what may. It is to meet him that I am here. I have
one thing to do--you need no telling what that thing is."
"I can guess. To slay the man who stole your promised wife."
"My promised wife!" looking down at him. "My promised wife!"
"Why, yes! Was she not? I had a friend in England who knew something
of his villainy."
"Had she been my promised wife and fled with him thus, she might have
gone hang, and, for the matter of that, so might he. No woman who
could do as that woman did would have been worth a pair of crossed
swords. But, unhappily for him--for this cousin of yours--the
treachery was committed by them both against one whom I loved better
than myself--the gentlest soul on earth, and unable to avenge
himself."
"Another Vause! Had I known that, my trepidation would not have been
so great when you saw his picture--when he passed us two hours ago."
"Ay! Another Vause, my elder brother. But it makes no matter, except
that, as I tell you, I shall avenge him far more than I should avenge
myself. Debrasques," and he put his hand on the neck of the boy's
horse as it trotted side by side with his own, "Debrasques, there is
no need of concealment nor of lies and deception on my part. Listen!
We stand on the threshold of a new friendship, yet, though that
friendship will perforce wither and die through my future actions, I
must perform them. My friend until to-morrow, at least--I am here in
the Palatinate to slay your cousin."
"Yet--yet," the lad stammered, scarce knowing what to say, "that was
not your intent when first we met. You said then you had returned to
France to join the army."
"I returned to France to find him. But, ere I knew of the evil he had
done my brother, I had procured from King Charles letters to Turenne
commanding here, to Condé commanding in Flanders, one even to King
Louis in command of his army in Franche-Comté, and another to Colonel
Churchill now with us, for I had to be a soldier again. But, when I
learnt from my brother's dying lips of what this Vicomte had done, I
knew that, with those letters in my possession, I could make my way to
wherever he might be. I had heard," and Andrew looked terribly grim as
he uttered these last words, "that this man had the skill of a _maître
d'armes_, therefore I supposed him a soldier. In Paris, on the night I
met you, I learnt that he was one. Then my resolve was taken."
"Will nothing shake it?"
"Nothing--or only one thing. Let me find out that he was absolutely
without knowledge that he was injuring my brother--let it be proved to
me that he did not know the woman he took away with him was an
affianced wife, and I cease my quest; his death may come to him how it
will. I shall not seek it. Nay, if you, Debrasques, who appear to know
much of what has happened, can assure me such was the case, I cease to
seek for him from this moment."
"Alas!" murmured the other, "I have no such assurance to give."
"Did he know?" asked Andrew, pressing him, "had he ever heard of the
name of Vause? But, why ask? You knew my name; therefore, he knew it
too."
And his companion's silence and wistful look told him that he had
suspected aright.
And now, on this the following morning, the young man was winding his
way through all the bustle and confusion of a great army taking
breathing time between one battle and another that was imminent. And,
as he pursued that way, he whispered to himself:
"If I can work on his fears so much as to force him--even in the teeth
of the enemy--to quit the field, to exchange either to the King's or
Condé's army, disgrace and misery may be avoided. But, can I? Can I?
Villain as he is, he is yet no coward."
It was still two hours ere the Marquis Debrasques stood face to face
with his kinsman, he having been away with Turenne and several of his
generals on the road to Mannheim; but, at last, the weary time passed,
and the Marquis de Bois-Vallée entered the room in the farmhouse which
was allotted to him for quarters, and stood before his cousin, saying
as he did so:
"_Eh bien!_ Monsieur le Marquis, this is an overwhelming honour and
not to have been expected, in spite of my having recognized you last
night. Well!" and he unbuckled his _porte-épée_ and flung that and the
weapon it bore into the corner of the room as he spoke, while also he
removed his wig and showed thereby the auburn, red-tinged hair that
was so noticeable, "to what am I to attribute that honour? Scarcely, I
should imagine, to the desire to pay a visit of courtesy, since, when
last we met, you forbade me ever to address you again."
Standing there before Debrasques, his lean figure (which was set off
well enough by the handsome blue coat he wore, with its red facings
and gold galloonings, and with, across his breast, beneath the silver
gorget, the aiguilettes which showed that he was attached to the staff
of the Marshal) and his light blue eyes, which he never took off his
cousin, seemed to proclaim him a man of tenacious disposition. For the
tall, wiry form looked as though it were capable of almost any
endurance or exercise of strength, while the steely eyes spoke of an
invincible determination within.
"No visit of courtesy would have brought me here to you," replied
Debrasques, who retained the common wooden chair in which he had been
seated for those two hours, and from which he had not risen on his
cousin's entrance. "Instead, something of a totally different nature.
For the reputation of the family of which I have the honour to be the
head, and of which you are a member, I desire that you shall remove
yourself from this camp."
For a moment those blue eyes shot out a rapid glance at the young man
seated there; then their owner said, speaking in an extraordinarily
calm manner:
"Have you, _par hazard_, Monsieur le Marquis, taken leave of your
senses? Are you aware of what you have asked?"
"Perfectly. I have asked you, a soldier in the face of the enemy and
of the _garde du corps_ of the Marshal Turenne, to quit the camp. That
is what I have demanded in my senses, and is what I am anxious you
should do."
Still gazing at him steadily, the Vicomte drew up another common
wooden chair in front of the other, and, sitting in it and facing him,
said, always in the same self-contained voice:
"There is naturally some explanation of this--I will not honour it by
saying 'insulting'--request. Be good enough to give it, and then, head
of our family as you are, to take yourself back to your own lines.
Quick; I am much occupied with my duties, and shall be until I
relinquish them at your desire."
"The explanation is, to begin with, that Captain Vause has arrived in
this camp with the full determination of calling you to account for
your proceedings in England some three years ago, in connection with a
certain lady of that country."
"Indeed!" and now the Vicomte de Bois-Vallée allowed a smile to appear
faintly on his features. "_Et après!_ When he has done so, what next?"
"When he has done so," repeated Debrasques, who was as calm as the
other, if not, perhaps, as skilled in word-fence. "Well, I have no
doubt that, having called you to account, he will kill you."
"_Si?_" and again the other smiled. "Doubtless, therefore, he is a
fire-eater. But, permit me to say once more--what next?"
"Your death will bring a scandal on our family. This I desire to
prevent. The Debrasques have had their faults, probably some of their
kinsmen before you have even brought scandal on that family, but no
such mean action as you committed----"
"Monsieur le Marquis," the other interrupted quickly, and with no
smile on his face now, "I would suggest to you a more temperate tone.
Otherwise this man Vause, of whom you speak, may lose his opportunity
of, as you say, killing me. It may be necessary for me to offer you
the first chance."
"Which would not be accepted. I should not cross swords with you. You
will remember that your flight with the lady in question was brought
to the ears of the King himself--in spite of the English King's
indifference--by our ambassador to England, on the complaint of her
father. Also, that his Majesty demanded an explanation from me for the
outrage that you, an accredited member of the suite sent over by him,
had committed, and that it was only on being able to state that you
had married the lady that you were allowed to retain your position
with the Marshal. But I have since found that that statement, made on
your authority, was a lie. You have not married the lady."
"_Mon Dieu!_" the other exclaimed, roused now. "No, I have not--though
there is a strange explanation of----"
"Stop. I will hear no explanation. You deceived me once, and you will
doubtless deceive me again. But, as I have said, you must leave this
camp."
"I will not leave it. Bah! It would be ruin, ignominy. What! leave the
army with another engagement at hand, and--and--which is greater
ignominy if possible, run away from this man who has sought me out.
Sought me! Sought me the best master of fence in all Turenne's forces.
It is impossible."
"Still, it must be done. Otherwise I shall inform the King of the
falsehood told him. Then--if he chooses to pardon you--I cannot help
it, and Andrew Vause may kill you."
"Andrew Vause!" the other exclaimed. "Andrew Vause! Of whom are you
speaking? That is not the man to whom she was affianced. His name was
Philip."
"And he is his brother."
"Ha! So! I hope he is not so much of a weakling as report would have
that brother to be, otherwise he will scarce enjoy a quarter of an
hour with me, nor----"
"I tell you he is no weakling, and he has come here with the
determination of killing you----"
"Which would grieve you--my cousin, and his friend?"
"It would not grieve me in the least. But, as I say, it would lead to
scandal, and might prevent my search for the unhappy lady whom you
have vilely deceived. Also----"
"Your search for the unhappy lady, as you term her--your search! You
intend that? Monsieur le Marquis, what do you mean by this intrusion
in my affairs? Answer me!" And now he had risen from his chair and
stood before his young cousin, his eyes fixed piercingly on the boy's
face. "Quick. Answer."
"I mean that the instant this campaign is over, be it long or
short--and if I live through it--I intend to find the woman you have
betrayed, inveigled from her own country to ours, and to return her to
her father, if he will take her back. And in my search for her I
intend to procure, if possible, the services of Captain Vause."
"So. You intend to do that--if you live. Valentin Debrasques, you will
not live. Therefore, be warned in time. If Montecuculi's or Caprara's
soldiers do not put an end to your viperish young career--why, as you
say--the campaign will be over, and then you will have to make your
account with me. Now," he continued, and as he spoke he threw open the
door and pointed to it, "go. And, remember, when the campaign is over,
I shall demand an interview with you."
"I will remember," Debrasques said, also rising now from his chair.
"Fear not. But, previously, there are other things which you had best
not forget. First, that the King will be informed of the lie about
your marriage with the lady, and, next----"
"Yes? Next?"
"That Montecuculi's or Caprara's soldiers may be as like to put an end
to your career as to mine, and, even if they do not, why, then----"
"Yes?" De Bois-Vallée said again interrogatively. "Yes? And then?"
"Why, then--if you are not previously sent away in disgrace from
Turenne's service--Andrew Vause will kill you himself."
"Go!" the Vicomte said once more, and pointing still with his finger
to the door, while Debrasques, watching it, thought it shook somewhat
now. "Go, before it is too late."