The False Chevalier Part 24

CHAPTER XXV

FACING THE MUSIC

Germain hastened back to Troyes, taking up Dominique on the way. It was evening when his coach brought him past the gate sentry and through the stray groups in the courtyard of the Quarters, so that he noticed nothing particular until he entered Collinot's office to report himself.

The Adjutant received him with unusual stiffness. When he, soon after, descended in his uniform and mounted to take command of the change of sentries, the crisis arrived. A large, turbulent Guardsman refused to salute him. Germain stopped, marked the man, and ordered his arrest.

"_You_ arrest me!" the private shouted, conscious of his equal rank with the officers of the ordinary army; "you reptile, you huckster's son! You order gentlemen about!--_you_, Lecour, the man of the stolen name!"

"Monsieur Brigadier, conduct this gentleman to the guardhouse," firmly ordered Lecour.

He did it with so much dignity, despite the whiteness of his face, that the Guardsmen--who had all been about to mutiny with their comrade--recognised their duty, and obeyed his further commands. Their hasty impression that the Canadian was an impostor was shaken by his manner, and they silently agreed to await developments.

Immediately this brief service--which he performed to the letter--was over, he changed costume quickly and walked into the card-room, where a large company, including several Guards from Chalons, were engaged at conversation and play. All eyes turned to him. He was seen to march straight to the centre, and to stand a moment, pale and determined, until all murmuring hushed.

"Gentlemen," he began, "I have just been insulted. I have been insulted, but not so much by the man who lies under arrest, as by him, unknown to me, who has been the cause of his offence. I am under no possible doubt that all you who are present have heard the malignant falsehoods which are being circulated about my origin within the past few days. Their author, I am informed, is one Lery, a native of my country, who has obtained in some way a position in the ranks of the company de Villeroy.

I wish to proclaim that I am about to demand of him a just alternative--retraction or death."

"Bravo!" exclaimed a friendly voice--Grancey's. Germain had been listened to with breathless attention, and approval appeared on many countenances. His fellow-officers moved towards him. Even one of the Guardsmen from Chalons, of de Lery's regiment, swore the latter had no right to malign such a brave fellow.

"Adjutant de Collinot," he continued, "I appeal to you."

Collinot--the oracle of militarism--who was playing picquet, rose.

"Sir," said Germain, "I desire that this matter be regulated in the manner that shall best preserve the honour of the company of Noailles, of which you are the custodian. I must explain to you, for the regiment, the facts concerning my t.i.tle of Repentigny. The Marquis of that name, it is true, is a Canadian, and was, until the British conquest a generation ago, possessor of the estate of Repentigny, of which his family, the LeGardeurs, have borne the name as their princ.i.p.al designation. But this Lery, a man of very inferior pedigree, notwithstanding his pretensions, has in his ignorance and presumption overlooked a fact into which he should have at least inquired before lying about a gentleman. He ought to be aware that the LeGardeurs have ceased to possess Repentigny since the year 1763. Has he asked himself what has become of it in the mean-time? Know then, sir, and gentlemen of this company, that that seigniory being sold again, and again regranted by the British Crown, has long ago become the property of my father in perfect t.i.tle. Does Monsieur Lery dispute the rule that a gentleman may take the name of a property of his own or of his father's? Yet, in case there be a technical defect for the purposes of a name in France, in the fact that we unfortunately hold Repentigny of a foreign power, I am ready--and indeed from this time forth intend--to recur to another name about which no petty cavil can rise--for we are not so poor in t.i.tles as to be confined to one--the original ill.u.s.trious name of my family--LeCour de Lincy. You, sir, have my attestation by the herald, in the strictest form, and some of you, gentlemen officers, know under what circ.u.mstances you have seen me in the family of the Chevalier de Bailleul. I have one thing now to add to these evidences. As guardian, sir, of the regiment, do me the honour and justice of examining these papers"--here he handed him his new doc.u.ments, and pa.s.sed around the family seal with its coat-of-arms. "Know me henceforth," he added, "proven, by a designation above all question, error, or calumny, and n.o.ble among the oldest in the kingdom--my ancestral name of LeCour de Lincy. Adjutant, I respectfully demand your decision."

"The rules of the army," the latter answered, precise as usual, "are satisfied by the attestation of the best authority in the realm on your antiquity. The Company cannot take official notice of an unsustained attack upon you; the defence of your honour in such a matter rests with your own sword. Still, gentlemen, though not formally necessary, I am pleased to hear a voluntary explanation so satisfactory to our military family, whose duty it meanwhile is without doubt to support our comrade."

And he saluted Germain.

The company present buzzed with agitation, and many began to speak low together. Those from Chalons fixed their eyes towards a corner behind Lecour.

And now in that direction a figure wearing the green cross-belt of the company of Villeroy rose, pale, aristocratic, coldly calm, and said, "I am de Lery."

The pallor that suddenly blanched Lecour's countenance as he turned in the direction of the voice left it as quickly when he fully faced his opponent. He measured him instantaneously, and the man he saw became stamped indelibly on his mind's eye--a picture, in typical contemptuous perfection of feature and dress, of the French aristocracy of the old _regime_. The very chair on the back of which his hand rested seemed a part of the type--one of those beautiful white chairs of the period, on which, on snowy, glittering tapestry, was woven a Fable of Lafontaine in matchless Gobelin dyes.

"Do you admit, sir, that you have defamed me?" Lecour cried, grasping the hilt of his sword and advancing a foot.

"I defame n.o.body," Louis answered coldly.

"Have you not disseminated statements that my name is stolen?"

"I have said that the n.o.ble designation of Repentigny did not belong to you--that its rightful owners are my uncle the Marquis of Repentigny, now in Paris, and his family."

"Did you not know----"

"Stay, sir. I have also a.s.serted that you are an impostor, the son of a tradesman of Canada, formerly a private soldier of the Marquis de Lotbiniere, and that you have not the slightest claim to consort with gentlemen, still less to belong to the Bodyguard, and less again to become an officer."

"Liar! liar! liar! Lery, it is _you_ who are the impostor! You are afraid of those who can tell the truth about you, but I did not conceive that you would carry our colonial jealousies so far as this. Do you persist or do you retract?"

"The scene becomes disagreeable," said some of those present to each other.

"It is colonial jealousy, of course," said others. "What have we to do with it?"

De Lery stood looking at Lecour without moving, in imperturbable contempt.

"I demand satisfaction," the latter hissed.

De Lery moved only slightly.

"The laws of honour," said he, "would bid me answer the challenge of a gentleman. But do you flatter yourself they compel me to cross steel with such as you?"

This was the cruellest blow, and under it Germain winced wrathfully. It was so cruel that those present murmured, and some cried "Shame!"

"You _shall_ meet me! You _must_ meet me! Besides a slanderer, you are a coward. Your company, whom you disgrace, have honour enough to make you meet me," called Germain in tones of rage.

"Accept! accept! accept!" cried the Guardsmen of the company of Villeroy.

"You ask me to dishonour myself?--to cross swords with an animal?"

exclaimed de Lery, turning angrily to his comrades.

"Shame! shame!" was the cry around the room.

"Gentlemen of the Bodyguard," said Collinot, "I must remind you where you are."

D'Amoreau and the Baron led Germain off to his chamber. There they sat down, and d'Amoreau wrote out a challenge, which Grancey, whom Lecour chose as his second, delivered without delay.

Germain was strung to a frightful tension. When his companions, at Grancey's suggestion, left him alone, he locked the doors and a storm of apprehensions took hold upon him. The situation presented itself in two deadly alternatives, either his annihilation in eternal darkness, or else that his rapier must let out the red life-stream of a man who, hateful though he might be, was but a speaker of the truth. In that case, all would come out and justice have to be settled with, both human and divine. Yes, that extreme justice--to be banished for ever out of the world of Cyrene. Was it not the better alternative to permit himself to die by the first thrust of de Lery?

CHAPTER XXVI

A DUEL

Nothing pleased de Lotbiniere better than shaping a policy. His dark eyes were constantly full of plan, whether they looked at you or into the ma.s.ses 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--"Repentigny 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 Lotbiniere. 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."