The regiment was on the point of falling in, on the parade ground,
when Desmond Kennedy rode up. Leaping from his horse, he threw the
reins to his servant.
"Take them both round to the stables, and put them in spare
stalls, Mike. I will get leave off parade for both of us, and ask
the surgeon to dress your wounds properly."
Then he went up to the colonel, who was just entering the barrack
yard.
"Colonel O'Brien," he said, "I must ask your leave off parade,
for, as you see, I am scarcely in a condition to take my place
with my company."
"So it would seem, Mr. Kennedy. You have been in trouble, I see.
Nothing serious, I hope?"
"Nothing at all, sir, as far as I am concerned. It is merely a
graze from a pistol ball."
"Well, I must hear about it, afterwards."
"I must also ask leave off parade for Callaghan, my servant, sir.
He is hurt a good deal more than I am, though not, I hope,
seriously."
The colonel nodded. "I will send the surgeon to your quarters, and
he will see to you both."
As Desmond left the colonel, his two chums came up.
"Why, Kennedy, what on earth have you been doing to yourself? This
is what comes of gallivanting about after dark. When we came
round, yesterday evening, to go out with you as usual, you were
not in. There was nothing very unusual in that, for these evening
walks of yours are often prolonged; but we called again, on our
return at eleven o'clock, and found you were still absent. This
looked serious. We came round again at six this morning, for we
were anxious about you, and learned you had not been in all night,
and, on enquiring, heard that Callaghan was also absent.
"That was cheering. That you might get into some scrape or other,
we could reasonably believe; but, as you had your man with you, we
could hardly suppose that misfortune had fallen upon both of you."
"The wound is a mere graze. I will tell you, after parade, what I
have been doing," Desmond said, "but you must nurse your curiosity
till you are dismissed."
A few minutes after Desmond reached his quarters, the surgeon came
in.
"I do not think that I have any need of your services, doctor. I
got a piece of plaster, and stuck it on two hours ago, and I have
no doubt that the wound will heal in a few days."
"However, I will, with your permission, take it off, Mr. Kennedy.
It is much better that the wound should be properly washed, and
some dressing applied to it. It will heal all the quicker, and you
are less likely to have an ugly scar.
"It is a pretty deep graze," he said, after he had carefully
removed the plaster. "An eighth of an inch farther, and it would
have made your teeth rattle. You had better keep quiet, today.
Tomorrow morning, if there is no sign of inflammation, I will take
off the dressing and bandage and put on a plaster--one a third of
the size that I took off will be sufficient; and as I will use a
pink plaster, it will not be very noticeable, if you go outside
the barracks.
"Where is your man? The colonel told me there were two patients.
"A nasty cut," he said, after examining Mike's wound. "It is lucky
that it was not a little higher. If it had been, you would have
bled to death in five minutes. As it is, it is not serious. You
will have to keep your arm in a sling for a fortnight. You are not
to attend parade, or mount a horse, until I give you leave."
On the ride from Versailles, Desmond had warned Mike to say no
word as to the events of the night.
"I do not know what course the young lady's father may take," he
said, "and until I do, the matter had better be kept a secret,
altogether."
"I will keep a quiet tongue in my head, and no one shall hear
anything, from me, as to how I got this slice on my shoulder. I
will just say that it was a bit of a scrimmage I got into, with
two or three of the street rascals; and the thing is so common
that no one is likely to ask any further questions about it."
After the parade was over, O'Neil and O'Sullivan came up to
Desmond's quarters.
"Now, Master Kennedy, we have come to receive your confession. We
gave you credit for being a quiet, decent boy, and now it seems
that you and that man of yours have been engaged in some
disreputable riot, out all night, and coming in on two strange
horses, which, for aught we know, have been carried off by force
of arms."
Desmond laughed.
"As to the horses, you are not so far wrong as one might expect,
O'Neil. We rode them this morning from Versailles."
"From Versailles!" O'Neil repeated. "And what, in the name of all
the saints, took you to Versailles! I am afraid, Desmond, that you
are falling into very evil courses.
"Well, tell us all about it. I shall be glad to be able to believe
that there is some redeeming feature in this strange business."
Desmond laughed, and then said, more seriously, "Well, I have had
an adventure. Other people were concerned in it, as well as
myself. I have made up my mind to tell you both, because I know
that I can depend upon your promises to keep it an absolute
secret."
"This sounds mysterious indeed," O'Sullivan said. "However, you
have our promises. O'Neil and I will be as silent as the grave."
"Well, then, you know how you were chaffing me, the other day,
about finding Mademoiselle Pointdexter?"
"You don't mean to say that you have found her, Kennedy?" O'Neil
exclaimed incredulously.
"That is what I mean to say, though found is hardly the word,
since I was not looking for her, or even thinking of her, at the
time. Still, in point of fact, I accidentally came across the
place where she was hidden away, and after a sharp skirmish, in
which Callaghan and I each had to kill two men, we carried her
off, and delivered her safely to her father this morning."
The two young officers looked hard at Desmond, to discover if he
was speaking seriously, for his tone was so quiet, and matter of
fact, that they could scarce credit that he had passed through
such an exciting adventure; and the three were so accustomed to
hoax each other, that it struck them both as simply an invention
on the part of their comrade, so absolutely improbable did it seem
to them.
"Sure you are trying to hoax us, Kennedy," O'Sullivan said.
"You could not blame me, if I were," Desmond said, with a smile,
"considering the cock-and-bull stories that you are constantly
trying to palm off on me. However, you are wrong now. I will tell
you the affair, just as it happened."
And he related, in detail, the story of the rescue of Mademoiselle
Pointdexter, and the manner in which he had conveyed her to
Versailles.
"By Saint Bridget, Kennedy, we were not far wrong when we called
you a knight errant. Well, this is something like an adventure,
though whether it will end well or ill for you I cannot say. Did
you learn the name of the person who had the girl carried off?"
"No. I asked no questions, and indeed had but little conversation
with her; for, as I have told you, I put her in a carriage, with
the old hag who was in charge of her, and rode myself by the side
of it, in case the old woman should try to escape."
"A truly discreet proceeding, Kennedy," O'Neil laughed. "I think,
if I myself had been in your place, I should have taken a seat
inside also, where you, of course, could at once have watched the
old woman, and talked with the young one."
"I don't think that you would have done anything of the sort,
O'Neil," Desmond said gravely, "but would have seen, as I did,
that it was better that she should travel alone, with the old
woman, till she reached her father's house. Scandal will be busy
enough with her name, in any case, and it is as well that it
should not be said that she arrived home, in a carriage, with a
young officer of O'Brien's Irish regiment."
"By my faith, Kennedy, it seems to me that you are a Saint Anthony
and a Bayard rolled into one. But, seriously, you are undoubtedly
right. Well, it all depends upon who was the man who carried her
off, as to whether you were fortunate or unfortunate in thus
having thwarted his designs. If he is some adventurer, your action
will gain you heaps of credit. If, on the other hand, it was one
of the king's favourites, seeking to mend his fortunes by
marrying, it is probable that you will have made a dangerous
enemy--nay, more, have drawn upon yourself the king's displeasure.
I should think it likely that, before attempting so desperate an
action as the carrying off of the Baron Pointdexter's daughter,
such a man would have assured himself that the king would not view
the enterprise with displeasure.
"We may assume that he would not inform His Majesty of any
particulars, but would put it, hypothetically, that as he was
getting into sore straits, he thought of mending his fortunes by
carrying off an heiress--not, of course, one of those of whose
hands the king had the disposal; and that he trusted that, if he
succeeded, His Majesty would not view the matter as a grave
offence. From what I know of Louis, he would reply gravely: 'I
should be obliged (duke or viscount, as the case might be) to
express very grave displeasure, and to order you to leave the
court for a time; but, as the harm would be done, and the young
lady married to you, it might be that, in time, I should pardon
the offence.'
"If this is how things have gone, you may be sure that the king
will not view, with satisfaction, the man who has interfered with
his favourite's plan for mending his fortunes."
Desmond shrugged his shoulders.
"The king's dissatisfaction would matter very little to me," he
said, "especially as he could not openly manifest it, without
making it apparent that he had approved of the scheme."
"It is not such a trifle as you think, Kennedy. Lettres de cachet
are not difficult to obtain, by powerful members of the court;
especially when the person named is a young regimental officer,
whose disappearance would excite no comment or curiosity, save
among the officers of his own regiment. The man who carried off
Mademoiselle Pointdexter must be a bold fellow, and is likely to
be a vindictive one. No doubt, his object was to keep the young
lady a prisoner, until she agreed to marry him, and the loss of a
pretty bride with a splendid fortune is no trifling one, and
likely to be bitterly resented. Whether that resentment will take
the form of obtaining an order for your confinement in the
Bastille, or other royal prison, or of getting you put out of the
way by a stab in the back, I am unable to say, but in any case, I
should advise you strongly to give up your fancy for wandering
about after dark; and when you do go out, keep in the frequented
portions of the town.
"Jack Farquharson, who was at Versailles with the colonel last
week, was speaking of Mademoiselle Pointdexter, and said that she
was charming. Did you find her so?"
"I thought nothing about it, one way or the other," Desmond said,
carelessly. "I only saw her face by torchlight, and she was, of
course, agitated by what had happened; and indeed, as I was busy
helping Mike to yoke the horses to the carriage, I had scarcely
time to look at her. When we reached Versailles it was barely
daylight. I handed her out of the carriage, and left her to enter
by herself, as I thought it was better that she should meet her
father alone. I do not think that I should recognize her, were I
to meet her in the street."
"Most insensible youth!" O'Sullivan said, with a laugh;
"insensible and discreet to a point that, were it not assured,
none would believe that you had Irish blood in your veins. And so,
you say you are going over to Versailles tomorrow?"
"Yes. I left a message with the servant who opened the door, to
that effect. Of course, I shall be glad to know if the baron
intends to take any steps against his daughter's abductor, or
whether he thinks it best not to add to the scandal by stirring up
matters, but to take her away at once to his estates."
"He is in a difficult position," O'Neil said gravely. "The young
lady has been missing for a fortnight. No one knows whether she
went of her own free will, or against it. Were her father to carry
her off, quietly, it would excite the worst suspicions. Better by
far lodge his complaint before the king, proclaim his grievances
loudly everywhere, and tell the story in all its details.
Whichever course he takes, evil-minded people will think the
worse; but of the two evils, the latter seems to me to be the
lesser."
"I suppose it would be," Desmond agreed, "though, for my part, I
should be heartily glad if I never heard another word about it."
"You are too modest altogether, Kennedy. Whatever rumours may be
current, concerning the young lady, there can be no doubt that you
come out splendidly, in that you hear a cry of a woman in
distress; you scale walls to get in to her assistance; you and
your servant encounter five of her guards, kill four of them and
bind the other; rescue the maiden, and carry her off, with flying
colours, in the carriage of her abductor. My dear Kennedy, you
will become an object of admiration to all the ladies of the
court."
"That will be absolutely disgusting," Desmond said, angrily. "It
is almost enough to make one wish that one had never interfered in
the affair."
"Pooh, pooh, Kennedy! I am sure that either O'Sullivan or myself
would give, I was going to say a year's pay, though how one would
exist without it I don't know, to have been in your place. Why,
man, if you had captured a standard in battle, after feats of
superhuman bravery, you would not attract half the attention that
will fall to you as a consequence of this adventure. Life in the
court of His Most Christian Majesty is one of the most artificial
possible. The women hide their faces with powder and patches, lace
themselves until they are ready to faint, walk with a mincing air,
and live chiefly upon scandal; but they are women, after all, and
every woman has a spice of romance in her nature, and such an
adventure as yours is the very thing to excite their admiration."
"I know nothing about women," Desmond growled, "and don't want to
know any of them, especially the ladies at the court of Louis."
"Well, of course, Kennedy, if the baron proclaims his wrongs, and
publishes the circumstances of his daughter's abduction and
rescue, the seal of silence will be taken from our lips;
especially as you will, almost to a certainty, be summoned to
Versailles to confirm the lady's story."
"I am afraid that that will be so," Desmond said, despondingly.
"However, it can't be helped, and I suppose one must make the best
of it."
To most of the officers who dropped in, in the course of the day,
to see Desmond and to enquire how he got his wound, he abstained
from giving any particulars. It was merely said that he and
Callaghan were suddenly attacked, by five ruffians, whom they
managed to beat off. Much surprise was expressed that such attack
should be made upon an officer and a soldier, on whom little
plunder could be expected, and who would be sure to defend
themselves stoutly. Several, indeed, expressed some incredulity.
"We do not doubt for a moment, Kennedy, that you were attacked by
five men, as you say, and that you routed them, but there must
have been some motive for the attack. These evening strolls of
yours are suspicious, and I will warrant that there must have been
a great deal at the bottom of it. Now, can you deny that?"
"I neither admit nor deny anything," Desmond said, with a smile;
"enough that, at present, I have told you all that I feel
justified in telling. I acknowledge that there is more behind it,
but at present my mouth is sealed on the subject."
The colonel was among those who came in to see him. To him,
Desmond said frankly that the affair was altogether out of the
common, that it was likely that the whole facts would be known
shortly, but that, as other persons were concerned, he could not
speak of it until he had obtained their permission.
"Then I will ask no further," Colonel O'Brien said. "I have seen
enough of you to know that you would not be concerned in any
affair that could bring discredit upon the corps. I am curious to
know the whole story, but am quite content to wait until you feel
at liberty to tell me."
The next morning, Desmond took part in the usual work of the
regiment, and then, mounting his horse, rode to Versailles. On his
ringing the bell at the house occupied by the Baron de Pointdexter,
the old servitor, whom he had before seen, opened the gate.
"The baron is expecting you, monsieur," he said, bowing deeply;
and, at his call, another servant ran out and took Desmond's
horse, and led it away to the stable, while Desmond followed the
old man to the house.
The door opened as they approached, and the baron, a tall man,
some fifty years of age, advanced hastily, holding out both hands.
"Monsieur Kennedy," he said, "you have rendered to me the greatest
service that I have received during my life. No words can express
the gratitude that I feel, for one who has restored to me my only
child, just when I had come to believe that she was lost to me
forever. It was surely her guardian saint who sent you to the
spot, at that moment."
"It might have happened to anyone, sir," Desmond said; "surely any
gentleman, on hearing an appeal for help from a woman in distress,
would have done just what I did."
"Let us go in," the baron said. "My daughter has been eagerly
waiting your coming, especially as she tells me that she does not
think she said even a word of thanks to you, being overpowered by
what she had gone through, and by her joy at her sudden and
unexpected deliverance. Indeed, she says that she scarcely
exchanged two words with you."
"There was no opportunity, Baron, for indeed, as soon as she told
me that there was a carriage and horses in the stable, I was too
much occupied in getting it ready for her to depart without delay,
to think of talking."
They had now entered the house, and, as the baron led the way into
the sitting room, the girl rose from a fauteuil.
"This, Monsieur Kennedy, is my daughter, Mademoiselle Anne de
Pointdexter. It is high time that you were formally presented to
each other.
"This, Anne, is the officer who rendered you such invaluable
service."
"We meet almost as strangers, mademoiselle," Desmond said, deeply
bowing, "for I own that I saw so little of your face, the other
night, that I should hardly have recognized you, had I met you
elsewhere."
"I should certainly not have recognized you, Monsieur Kennedy.
What with my own fright, and, I may say, the condition of your
face, I had but a faint idea of what you were really like; but I
certainly did not think that you were so young. You had such a
masterful way with you, and seemed to know so perfectly what ought
to be done, that I took you to be much older than you now look."
"I joined the regiment but little more than three months ago,"
Desmond said, "and am its youngest ensign."
"Monsieur, I owe to you more than my life, for, had it not been
for you, I should have been forced into marriage with one whom I
despise."
"I cannot think that, mademoiselle. From what I saw of you, I
should say that you would have resisted all threats, and even
undergone hopeless imprisonment, rather than yield."
"There is no saying, Monsieur Kennedy," the baron said. "Anne is
of good blood, and I know that it would have been hard to break
down her will, but confinement and hopelessness will tell on the
bravest spirit. However that may be, she and I are your debtors
for life."
"Indeed, Monsieur Kennedy," the girl said, "I pray you to believe
that I am more grateful to you than words can express."
"I pray you to say no more about it, mademoiselle. I deem it a
most fortunate circumstance, that I was able to come to your
assistance, and especially so, when I found that the lady I had
rescued was one whose disappearance had made so great a stir; but
I should have been glad to render such service to one in the
poorest condition."
"My daughter said that you asked her no questions, Monsieur
Kennedy, and you therefore are, I suppose, in ignorance of the
name of her abductor?"
"Altogether."
"It was the Vicomte de Tulle, one who stands very high in the regard
of the king, and who is one of the most extravagant and dissipated,
even of the courtiers here. For some time, it has been reported that
he had nigh ruined himself by his lavish expenditure, and doubtless
he thought to reestablish his finances by this bold stroke.
"His plans were well laid. He waited until I had gone to Paris on
business that would keep me there for a day or two. A messenger
arrived with a letter, purporting to be from me, saying that I
wished my daughter to join me at once, and had sent a carriage to
take her to me. Anne is young, and, suspecting no harm, at once
threw on a mantle and hood, and entered the carriage. It was broad
daylight, and there was nothing to disquiet her until, on
approaching the town, the carriage turned off the main road. This
struck her as strange, and she was just about to ask the question
where she was being taken, when the carriage stopped in a lonely
spot, the door was opened, and a man stepped in.
"Before she had even time to recognize him, he threw a thick cloak
over her head. She struggled in vain to free herself, but he held
her fast. Again and again, she tried to cry out, but her mouth was
muffled by the wrapping. She had heard the blinds of the carriage
drawn, and finding that her struggles to free herself were vain,
and receiving no answer to her supplications to be released, she
remained quiet until the carriage stopped. Then she was lifted
out, and carried into the house where you found her.
"The wrapping was removed, and the man who had taken it off, and,
who by his attire, was a gentleman in the service of some noble,
said, 'Do not be alarmed, mademoiselle. No harm is intended to
you. My master is grieved to be obliged to adopt such means, but
his passion for you is so great that he was driven to this step,
and it will entirely depend upon yourself when your captivity will
end.'
"'Your master, whoever he may be,' Anne said, 'is a contemptible
villain.'
"'Naturally, you have a poor opinion of him at present,' the
fellow said; 'but I am convinced that, in time, you will come to
excuse his fault. It is wholly due to the depth of the feeling
that he entertains towards you. There is a woman here who will
wait upon you. I and my men will not intrude. Our duty is solely
to see that you do not escape, which indeed would be an
impossibility for you, seeing that the wall that surrounds the
garden is well-nigh fifteen feet high, and the gate barred and
locked, and the key thereof in my pocket.'
"He called, and the old woman whom you brought here with Anne
entered, and bid her ascend to the room that had been prepared for
her.
"In that respect, she had nothing to complain of. Of course, you
did not notice it, as you had other things to think of, but it was
handsomely furnished. There was a bed in an alcove, some flowers
on the table, some books, and even a harpsichord--evidently it was
intended that her imprisonment should be made as light as might
be.
"Looking from the window, Anne saw that the room was at the back
of the house, and had probably been chosen because some trees shut
the window off from view of anyone beyond the wall. The next day,
the old woman announced the Vicomte de Tulle. He bowed profoundly,
and began by excusing the step that he had taken, and crediting it
solely to the passion that he had conceived for her. You may
imagine the scorn and reproaches with which she answered him. He
was quite unmoved by her words.
"'Mademoiselle,' he said calmly, when she paused, 'you may be sure
that I should not have undertaken this scheme, unless I had fully
weighed the consequences. My plans have been so laid that whatever
search may be made for you will be in vain. Here you are, and here
you will remain until you listen to my suit. Every want shall be
satisfied, and every wish complied with; but, whether it is one
year or five, you will not leave this house until you leave it as
my bride.'
"'Then, sir,' she said passionately, 'I shall be a prisoner for
life.'
"'So you may think, at present, mademoiselle,' he said. 'And I
expected nothing else. But, with time and reflection, you may come
to think otherwise. Union with me is not so terrible a matter. My
rank you know, and standing high, as I do, in the favour of His
Most Gracious Majesty, your position at court will be such as
might gratify the daughter of the noblest family in France. The
study of my life will be to make you happy.
"'I shall now leave you to think over the matter. I shall not
pester you with my attentions, and for another month you will not
see me again. At the end of that time, I trust that you will have
seen the futility of condemning yourself to further captivity, and
will be disposed to make more allowance, than at present, for the
step to which my passion for yourself has driven me.'
"It was just a month since she had been carried off, and, the very
day when you rescued her, the old woman had informed her that the
vicomte would do himself the pleasure of calling upon her the next
day. For the first fortnight she had held up bravely, in the hope
that I should discover the place where she had been hidden. Then
she began to feel the imprisonment and silence telling upon her,
for the old woman only entered to bring in her meals, and never
opened her lips, except on the first occasion, when she told her
that she was strictly forbidden to converse with her. After that
she began to despair, and the news that her abductor would visit
her, the next day, decided her to make an attempt to escape. She
had no difficulty in letting herself down from the window by the
aid of her bedclothes, but she found that what had been said
respecting the wall and gate was true, and that she was no nearer
escape than she had been, before she had left her room. She was
trying, in vain, to unbar the gate, which, indeed, would have been
useless could she have accomplished it, as it was also locked. But
she was striving, with the energy of desperation, when the door of
the house opened, and the men rushed out and seized her. As they
dragged her back to the house, she uttered the cries that brought
you to her assistance. The rest you know.
"As soon as I heard her story, I went to the palace and asked for
a private interview with the king. The king received me graciously
enough, and asked, with an appearance of great interest, if I had
obtained any news of my daughter.
"'I have more than obtained news, Your Majesty. I have my daughter
back again, and I have come to demand justice at your hands.'
"'I congratulate you, indeed, Baron,' the king said, with an
appearance of warmth, but I saw his colour change, and was
convinced that he knew something, at least, of the matter.
"'And where has the damsel been hiding herself?' he went on.
"'She has not been hiding herself, at all, Sire,' I said. 'She has
been abducted, by one of Your Majesty's courtiers, with the
intention of forcing her into a marriage. His name, Sire, is the
Vicomte de Tulle, and I demand that justice shall be done me, and
that he shall receive the punishment due to so gross an outrage.'
"The king was silent for a minute, and then said:
"'He has, indeed, if you have been rightly informed, acted most
grossly. Still, it is evident that he repented the step that he
took, and so suffered her to return to you.'
"'Not so, Your Majesty,' I said. 'I owe her return to no
repentance on his part, but to the gallantry of a young officer
who, passing the house where she was confined, heard her cries for
aid, and, with his soldier servant, climbed the gate of the
enclosure, and was there attacked by the man who had charge of
her, with four others. The young gentleman and his servant killed
four of them, and bound the other; and then, entering the house,
compelled the woman who had been appointed to act as her servant
to lead the way to her chamber. Fortunately, the carriage in which
she had been taken there was still in the stables, with its
horses. The gallant young gentleman at once got the carriage in
readiness, placed my daughter in it, with the woman who had been
attending on her. The servant drove, and he rode by the side of
the carriage, and in that way brought her home this morning.'
"In spite of his efforts to appear indifferent, it was evident
that the king was greatly annoyed. However, he only said:
"'You did quite right to come to me, Baron. It is outrageous,
indeed, that a young lady of my court should be thus carried off,
and I will see that justice is done. And who is this officer, who
has rendered your daughter such a service?'
"'His name is Kennedy, Sire. He is an ensign in O'Brien's Irish
regiment.'
"'I will myself send for him,' he said, 'and thank him for having
defeated this disgraceful plot of the Vicomte de Tulle. I suppose
you are quite sure of all the circumstances, as you have told them
to me?'
"'It is impossible that there can be any mistake, Sire,' I said.
'In the first place, I have my daughter's account. This is
entirely corroborated by the old woman she had brought with her,
and whose only hope of escaping from punishment lay in telling the
truth. In every respect, she fully confirmed my daughter's
account.'
"'But the vicomte has not been absent from Versailles, for the
past month. He has been at my morning levee, and on all other
occasions at my breakfasts and dinners. He has walked with me in
the gardens, and been always present at the evening receptions.'
"'That is so, Sire,' I said. 'My daughter, happily, saw him but
once; namely, on the morning after she was captured. He then told
her, frankly, that she would remain a prisoner until she consented
to marry him, however long the time might be. He said he would
return in a month, and hoped by that time to find that, seeing the
hopelessness of her position, she would be more inclined to accept
his suit.
"'It was on the eve of his coming again that my daughter, in her
desperation, made the attempt to escape. She was foiled in her
effort, but this, nevertheless, brought about her rescue, for her
cries, as her guards dragged her into the house, attracted the
attention of Monsieur Kennedy, who forthwith, as I have told you,
stormed the house, killed her guards, and brought her home to me.'
"The king then sent for de Tulle, and spoke to him with great
sternness. The latter did not attempt to deny my accusation, but
endeavoured to excuse himself, on the ground of the passion that
he had conceived for my daughter. Certainly, from the king's tone,
I thought that he would at least have sent him to the Bastille;
but, to my great disappointment, he wound up his reproof by
saying:
"'I can, of course, make some allowances for your passion for so
charming a young lady as Mademoiselle Pointdexter, but the outrage
you committed is far too serious to be pardoned. You will at once
repair to your estates, and will remain there during my pleasure.'
"The vicomte bowed and withdrew, and, an hour later, left
Versailles. The king turned to me, as he left the room, and said,
'I trust, Monsieur le Baron, that you are content that justice has
been done.'
"I was too angry to choose my words, and I said firmly, 'I cannot
say that I am content, Your Majesty. Such an outrage as that which
has been perpetrated upon my daughter deserves a far heavier
punishment than banishment from court; and methinks that an
imprisonment, as long as that which he intended to inflict upon
her unless she consented to be his wife, would have much more
nearly met the justice of the case.'
"The king rose to his feet suddenly, and I thought that my
boldness would meet with the punishment that I desired for de
Tulle; but he bit his lips, and then said coldly:
"'You are not often at court, Baron Pointdexter, and are doubtless
ignorant that I am not accustomed to be spoken to, in the tone
that you have used. However, I can make due allowance for the
great anxiety that you have suffered, at your daughter's
disappearance. I trust that I shall see you and your daughter at
my levee, this evening.'
"As this was a command, of course we went, and I am bound to say
that the king did all in his power to show to his court that he
considered her to be wholly blameless. Of course, the story had
already got about, and it was known that the vicomte had been
ordered to his estates. The king was markedly civil to Anne,
talked to her for some time, expressed his deep regret that she
should have been subject to such an outrage, while staying at his
court, and said, in a tone loud enough to be heard by all standing
round:
"'The only redeeming point in the matter is, that the Vicomte de
Tulle in no way troubled or molested you, and that you only saw
him, for a few minutes, on the first day of your confinement.'
"I need not say that this royal utterance was most valuable to my
daughter, and that it at once silenced any malicious scandal that
might otherwise have got about.
"The king stopped to speak to me, immediately afterwards, and I
said:
"'I trust that you will pardon the words I spoke this morning.
Your Majesty has rendered me and my daughter an inestimable
service, by the speech that you have just made.'
"Thus, although dissatisfied with the punishment inflicted on the
Vicomte de Tulle, and believing that the king had a shrewd idea
who her abductor was, I am grateful to him for shielding my
daughter from ill tongues, by his marked kindness to her, and by
declaring openly that de Tulle had not seen her, since the day of
her abduction. I intended to return home tomorrow, but the king
himself, when I went this morning to pay my respects, and state my
intention of taking Anne home, bade those standing round to fall
back, and was good enough to say in a low voice to me:
"'I think, Baron, that you would do well to reconsider your
decision to leave tomorrow. Your sudden departure would give rise
to ill-natured talk. It would be wiser to stay here, for a short
time, till the gossip and wonder have passed away.'
"I saw that His Majesty was right, and shall stay here for a short
time longer. It would certainly have a bad effect, were we to seem
to run away and hide ourselves in the provinces."
Mademoiselle de Pointdexter had retired when her father began to
relate to Desmond what had happened.
"I know little of life in Paris, Monsieur le Baron," Desmond said,
"but it certainly seems to me monstrous, that the man who
committed this foul outrage should escape with what is, doubtless,
but a short banishment from court."
"I do not know that the matter is ended yet, Monsieur Kennedy. In
spite of the edicts against duelling, I myself should have
demanded satisfaction from him, for this attack upon the honour of
my family, but I am at present Anne's only protector. It is many
years since I have drawn a sword, while de Tulle is noted as a
fencer, and has had many affairs, of which he has escaped the
consequences owing to royal favour. Therefore, were I to challenge
him, the chances are that I should be killed, in which case my
daughter would become a ward of the crown, and her hand and estate
be bestowed on one of the king's creatures. But, as I said, the
matter is not likely to rest as it is.
"Anne has, with my full consent and approval, given her love to a
young gentleman of our province. He is a large-landed proprietor,
and a connection of our family. They are not, as yet, formally
betrothed, for I have no wish to lose her so soon; and, in spite
of the present fashion of early marriages, I by no means approve
of them, and told Monsieur de la Vallee that they must wait for
another couple of years.
"I need scarcely say that, after what has happened, I shall
reconsider my decision; for the sooner she is married, and beyond
the reach of a repetition of this outrage, the better. I imagine,
however, that the young gentleman will be no better satisfied than
I am, that the matter should have been passed over so lightly; and
will take it into his own hands, and send a challenge immediately
to the vicomte. He is high spirited, and has the reputation among
us of being a good fencer, but I doubt whether he can possess such
skill as that which de Tulle has acquired. It is not always the
injured person that comes off victorious in a duel; and, should
fortune go against Monsieur de la Vallee, it would be a terrible
blow to my daughter, and indeed to myself, for I am much attached
to him. She is worrying about it, already.
"Of course, it is impossible that the affair can be hidden from
him. It is public property now; and therefore, I sent off one of
my grooms, an hour since, with a letter to him.
"Hitherto, I had not written to him about my daughter's
disappearance. Knowing he would, on hearing of it, at once hasten
here, where he could do no good and would only add to my trouble,
I thought it best to let matters go on as they were. I had been
doing everything that was possible, and to have his troubles as
well as my own on my hands would have driven me to distraction.
"The groom is to change horses at every post house, and to use the
greatest possible speed. You may be sure that Monsieur de la
Vallee will do the same, and that in six days he will be here. I
have given him the merest outline of the affair, and have not
mentioned the name of Anne's abductor. Had I done so, it is
probable that Philip would have gone straight to de Tulle, and
forced on an encounter at once. As it is, I trust that Anne and I,
between us, may persuade him to take no step in the matter. It is
the honour of my family, not of his, that has been attacked. Had
he been betrothed to my daughter, he would have been in a position
to take up her quarrel. As it is, he has no status, except distant
relationship.
"And now, Monsieur Kennedy, I have the king's order to take you to
the palace. He asked me several questions about you this morning.
I said that I had not yet seen you, but that you were riding over
here today, and he said:
"'Bring him to me when he comes, Baron. I should like to see this
young fire eater, who thrust himself so boldly into a matter in
which he had no concern, solely because he heard a woman's voice
calling for help.'"
"I am sorry to hear it," Desmond said, bluntly. "From what you say
I imagine that, in spite of what he has done, the king is far from
gratified at the failure of his favourite's plan. However, I
cannot disobey his commands in the matter."