"Perfectly well, Monsieur G--. And very little did I suppose that I
should ever see it again. I imagined, sir, that you were in your proper
place,--the galleys!"
It was wrong, doubtless, in me so to answer him--unfeminine, perhaps,
and too provocative of insult; but the blood of my race is hot, and
vehement to repel insult; and when I thought of the sufferings I had
endured, the trials I had encountered, and the contumely which I had
borne on account of that man, my every vein seemed to overflow with
passion.
"Ha!" he replied, grinding his teeth with rage, and becoming crimson
from the rush of blood to his head, while he grasped my wrist hard
with his hand, and shook it furiously. "Ha! to the galleys
yourself--_Chienne! Ingrate! Perfide! Traitresse! c'est aux galeres
que j'ai cru te rencontrer--ou plutot a la_--"
What further atrocity the ruffian was about to utter, I know not, for
while his odious voice was yet hissing in my ear these atrocious
epithets, before the footman who was standing, as I have said, a few
yards off at the other side of the carriage, had time to interfere, I
heard the sound of a horse at full gallop, and, the next instant, he was
dragged forcibly away, and I saw him quivering in the furious grasp of
the Count de Chavannes, who had, it seems, been returning to join us,
when the assault was committed.
To gallop to my side, to spring to the ground, to collar the ruffian,
drag him from the carriage, and lash him with his whole strength with a
rough jockey whip till he fairly screamed for mercy, were but the work
of a moment.
And I could not but marvel afterwards to think how much power and
nervous energy his indignant spirit had lent to his slight frame and
slender limbs; for in size, he was by no means superior to G--, whom he
nevertheless handled almost as if he had been a child of five years old.
Want of breath at last, rather than want of will, compelled him to pause
in his exercise; and then turning towards us with an air as composed and
smiling as if he had been merely dancing a quadrille, he took off his
hat, saying:--
"I must implore your pardon, ladies, yours more especially, Mademoiselle
Valerie, for enacting such a scene in your presence. _Mais c'etait plus
fort que moi_!" he added, laughing. "I could not contain myself at
seeing a lady so infamously insulted."
Caroline and the Misses Selwyn were so much frightened by the whole
fracas, that they were really unable to answer, and I was for the moment
so much taken by surprise, that I could not find words to reply. At
this moment, covered with dust and blood, for the whip had cut his face
in several places, without his hat, and with all his gay attire
besmeared and rent, G--again came up towards the carriage.
He was very pale, nay white, even to the lips--but it was evidently not
with terror but with rage, as his first words testified--
"_Monsieur le Comte de Chavannes_," he said, slowly, "_car je vous
connais, et vous me connaitrez aussi, je vous le jure; vous m'avez
frappe, vous me rendrez satisfaction, n'est-ce pas_?"
"Oh! no, no," I exclaimed, before he could answer, clasping my hands
eagerly together, "oh, no, no! not on my account, I implore you,
Monsieur le Comte--no life on my account--above all, not yours!"
He thanked me by one expressive glance, which spoke volumes to my heart,
and perhaps read volumes in return, in my pale face and trembling lips,
then turned with a calm smile to his late antagonist, and answered him
in English. "I do not know in the least, sir, who you are, and I do not
suppose that I ever shall know. I chastised you, five minutes since,
for insulting this lady most grossly--"
"Lady!" interrupted the ruffian, with a sneer. "Lady. Lady of plea--"
But the Count went on without pausing or seeming to hear him--"which I
should have done at all events, whether I had known you or not, and
which I shall most assuredly do again, should you think fit to proceed
further with your infamies. As for satisfaction, if I should be called
upon in a proper way, I shall not refuse it to any person worthy to meet
me."
"Which this person is not, sir," interposed yet a third voice; and,
looking up, I recognised the officer who had bowed to me: "which this
person is not, I assure you, and my word is wont to be sufficient in
such cases--Lieutenant-Colonel Jervis,"--he added, with a half bow to
me,--"late of His Majesty's--Light Dragoons. This person is the
notorious Monsieur G--, who was detected cheating at ecarte at the
`Travellers,' was a defaulter on the St Leger in the St Patrick's year,
has been warned off every race-course in England, by the Jockey Club,
besides being horsewhipped by half the Legs in England. He can get no
gentleman to bring you a message, sir; and if he could, you must not
meet him."
Gnashing his teeth with impotent rage, the detected impostor slunk away,
while the Count, bowing to Colonel Jervis, replied quietly--
"I thank you very much, Colonel. I am Monsieur de Chavannes; and I have
no doubt what you say is perfectly correct. No one but a low ruffian
could have behaved as this fellow did. It was, I assure you, no small
offence which caused me to strike a blow in the presence of ladies."
"I saw it, Monsieur le Comte," answered Jervis, "I saw it from a
distance, and was coming up as fast as I could make my horse gallop,
when you anticipated me. Then, seeing that I was not wanted, I stood
looking on with intense satisfaction; for, upon my word! I never saw a
thing better done in my life. No offence, Count, but by the way you use
your hands, I think you ought to have been an Englishman rather than a
Frenchman, which I suppose from your name--for you have no French
accent--you are."
"I was at school in England, Colonel," answered the Count, laughing,
"and so learned the use of my hands."
"That accounts for it--that accounts for it--for on my life, I never saw
a fellow more handsomely horsewhipped--and I have seen a good many, too.
Did you, Mademoiselle Valerie de Chatenoeuf; for I believe it is you
whom I have the honour of addressing?"
"I have been less fortunate than you, Colonel Jervis, for I never saw
any one horsewhipped before, and sincerely hope I shall never see
another."
"Don't say that, my dear lady, don't say that. I am sure it is a very
pretty sight, when it is well and soundly done. Besides it seems
ungrateful to the Count."
"I would not be ungrateful for the world," I replied; "and I am sure the
Count needs no assurance of that fact. I am for ever obliged by his
prompt defence of me--but it is nothing more than I should have expected
from him."
"What, that he would fight for you, Valerie?" whispered Caroline,
maliciously, in a tone which, perhaps, she did not intend to be
overheard; but, if such was her meaning, she missed it, for all present
heard her distinctly.