Booth Tarkington

“ But I have heard of the endeavor of M. le Duc to recoup his fortunes. This alliance shall fail. It is not the way—that heritage shall be safe' from him! It is you and me, monsieur! You can laugh! The war is open', and by me! There is one great step taken: until to-night there was nothing for you to ruin, to-morrow you have got a noble of France—your own protege—to besiege and sack. And you are to lose, because you think such ruin easy, and because you understand nothing—far less—of divinity. How could you know? You have not the fiber; the heart of a lady is a blank to you ”

“ However, like poor Captain Badger, the worthy old man had held his peace out of regard for the Duke of Winterset. This nobleman, heretofore secretly disliked, suspected of irregular devices at play, and never admired, had won admiration and popularity by his remorse for the mistake, and by the modesty of his attitude in endeavoring to atone for it, without presuming upon the privilege of his rank to laugh at the indignation of society; an action the more praiseworthy because his exposure of the impostor entailed the disclosure of his own culpability in having stood the villain's sponsor. ”

“ They were propping Sir Hugh on the cushions. The Duke rode up close to Beaucaire, but Francois seized his bridle fiercely, and forced the horse back on its haunches.
“The man's servants worship him,” said Molyneux.
“Curse your insolence!” exclaimed the Duke. “How much am I to bear from this varlet and his varlets? Beaucaire, if you have not left Bath by to-morrow noon, you will be clapped into jail, and the lashing you escaped to-night shall be given you thrice tenfold!” ”

“ I have said I learn' a secret, and use it to make a man introduce me if I will not tell. He has absolve' me of that promise. My frien's, I had not the wish to ruin that man. I was not receive'; Meestaire Nash had reboff me; I had no other way excep' to use this fellow. So I say, 'Take me to Lady Malbourne's ball as “Chateaurien.”' I throw off my wig, and shave, and behol', I am M. le Duc de Castle Nowhere. Ha, ha! You see?”
The young man's manner suddenly changed. He became haughty, menacing. He stretched out his arm, and pointed at Winterset. “Now I am no 'Beaucaire,' messieurs. ”

“ Monsieur has become a man of letters. Perhaps he may enjoy that more than the wars. Ha, ha!”
Mr. Bantison burst into a roar of laughter. “Do French gentlemen fight lackeys? Ho, ho, ho! A pretty country! We English do as was done to-night, have our servants beat them.”
“And attend ourselves,” added M. Beaucaire, looking at the Duke, “somewhat in the background? But, pardon,” he mocked, “that remind' me. Francois, return to Mr. Bantison and these gentlemen their weapons.”
“Will you answer a question?” said Molyneux mildly.
“Oh, with pleasure, monsieur.”
“Were you ever a barber?” ”

“ The young man bowed with imperturbable elation. “M. le Duc appoint' me to all the office' of his househol'.”
“You mustachioed fool, there are not five people of quality in Bath will speak to you—”
“No, monsieur, not on the parade; but how many come to play with me here? Because I will play always, night or day, for what one will, for any long, and always fair, monsieur.”
“You outrageous varlet! Every one knows you came to England as the French Ambassador's barber. What man of fashion will listen to you? Who will believe you?” ”

“ What do you not deserve? You are the bravest man in the world!”
“Ha, ha! I am jus' a poor Frenchman.”
“Would that a few Englishmen had shown themselves as 'poor' tonight. The vile cowards, not to help you!” With that, suddenly possessed by her anger, she swept away from him to the coach.
Sir Hugh, groaning loudly, was being assisted into the vehicle.
“My little poltroons,” she said, “what are you doing with your fellow-craven, Sir Hugh Guilford, there?”
“Madam,” replied Molyneux humbly, “Sir Hugh's leg is broken. Lady Rellerton graciously permits him to be taken in.” ”

“ A moi, Francois!” he cried as he went down, his sword in fragments, but his voice unbroken and clear.
“Shame!” muttered one or two of the gentlemen about the coach.
“'Twas dastardly to take him so,” said Molyneux. “Whatever his deservings, I'm nigh of a mind to offer him a rescue in the Duke's face.”
“Truss him up, lads,” said the heavy voice. “Clear the way in front of the coach. There sit those whom we avenge upon a presumptuous lackey. Now, Whiffen, you have a fair audience, lay on and baste him.”
Two men began to drag M. Beaucaire toward a great oak by the roadside. ”

“ Those people up over the sky, they want to show they wish the earth to be happy, so they smile, and make this lady. Gold-haired, an angel of heaven, and yet a Diana of the chase! I see her fly by me on her great horse one day ”

“ Nash's coffers filled up with gold. To crown his pleasure, a prince of the French blood, the young Comte de Beaujolais, just arrived from Paris, had reached Bath at noon in state, accompanied by the Marquis de Mirepoix, the ambassador of Louis XV. The Beau dearly prized the society of the lofty, and the present visit was an honor to Bath: hence to the Master of Ceremonies. What was better, there would be some profitable hours with the cards and dice. So it was that Mr. Nash smiled never more benignly than on that bright evening. ”

“ It is clearly shown that the Duke of Orleans is a scurvy fellow, but not—” he wheeled about and touched Captain Rohrer on the brow with the back of his gloved hand—“but not so scurvy as thou, thou swine of the gutter!”
Two hours later, with perfect ease, he ran Captain Rohrer through the left shoulder—after which he sent a basket of red roses to the Duke of Winterset. In a few days he had another captain to fight. This was a ruffling buck who had the astounding indiscretion to proclaim M. de Chateaurien an impostor. ”

“ Here the young man sprang to his feet, caught up the black wig, clapped into it a dice-box from the table, and hurled it violently through the open door. “'M. Beaucaire' shall be choke' with his own dice-box. Who is the Phoenix to remain? What advantage have I not over other men of rank who are merely born to it? I may choose my own. No! Choose for me, monsieur. Shall I be chevalier, comte, vicomte, marquis, what? None. Out of compliment to monsieur can I wish to be anything he is not? No, no! I shall be M. le Duc, M. le Duc de—de Chateaurien. ”

“ To-night, the happy gentleman, with Lady Mary Carlisle upon his arm, went grandly about the rooms, sowing and reaping a harvest of smiles. 'Twas said work would be begun at once to rebuild the Duke's country seat, while several ruined Jews might be paid out of prison. People gazing on the beauty and the stately but modest hero by her side, said they would make a noble pair. She had long been distinguished by his attentions, and he had come brilliantly out of the episode of the Frenchman, who had been his only real rival. ”

“ In France I have got a cousin who is a man with a very bad temper at some time', and he will never enjoy his relatives to do what he does not wish—”
He was interrupted by a loud commotion from without. The door was flung open, and the young Count of Beaujolais bounded in and threw his arms about the neck of M. Beaucaire.
“Philippe!” he cried. “My brother, I have come to take you back with me.”
M. de Mirepoix followed him, bowing as a courtier, in deference; but M. Beaucaire took both his hands heartily. Molyneux came after, with Mr. Nash, and closed the door. ”

“ Not a gentleman will play you when you come to Paris.”
The Englishman's white lip showed a row of scarlet dots upon it. “How much do you want?” he said.
The room rang with the gay laughter of Beaucaire. “I hol' your note' for seven-hunder' pound'. You can have them, monsieur. Why does a such great man come to play M. Beaucaire? Because no one else willin' to play M. le Duc—he cannot pay. Ha, ha! So he come' to good Monsieur Beaucaire. Money, ha, ha! What I want with money?”
His Grace of Winterset's features were set awry to a sinister pattern. ”

“ My good frien' Mirepoix is jus' leaving for London; he take' many risk' for my sake; his hairdresser die before he start', so I travel as that poor barber. But my cousin is a man to be afraid of when he is angry, even in England, and I mus' not get my Mirepoix in trouble. I mus' not be discover' till my cousin is ready to laugh about it all and make it a joke. And there may be spies; so I change my name again, and come to Bath to amuse my retreat with a little gaming—I am always fond of that. ”

“ Ha, ha, my Mirepoix! And what is better, one evening I am oblige' to fight some frien's of M. de Winterset there, and some ladies and cavaliers look on, and they still think me a servant. Oh, I am a great actor! 'Tis true there is not a peasant in France who would not have then known one 'born'; but they are wonderful, this English people, holding by an idea once it is in their heads—a mos' worthy quality. But my good Molyneux here, he had speak to me with courtesy, jus' because I am a man an' jus' because he is always kind. (I have learn' that his great-grandfather was a Frenchman.) ”

“ One cannot hope too much of your patience. It is but natural you should attemp' a little avengement for the rascal trap I was such a wicked fellow as to set for you. I shall meet some strange frien's of yours after to-night; not so? I must try to be not too much frighten'.” He looked at the Duke curiously. “You want to know why I create this tragedy, why I am so unkind as to entrap monsieur?”
His Grace of Winterset replied with a chill glance; a pulse in the nobleman's cheek beat less relentlessly ”

“ M. Beaucaire lifted his shoulders in a mock shiver. “What words! No, no, no! No killing! A such word to a such host! No, no, not mur-r-der; only disgrace!” He laughed a clear, light laugh with a rising inflection, seeming to launch himself upon an adventurous quest for sympathy.
“You little devilish scullion!” spat out the Duke.
“Tut, tut! But I forget. Monsieur has pursue' his studies of deportment amongs' his fellow-countrymen.
“Do you dream a soul in Bath will take your word that I—that I—”
“That M. le Duc de Winterset had a card up his sleeve?” ”

“ M. Beaucaire made a low bow. “So. We must not be too tire' for Lady Malbourne's rout. Ha, ha! And you, Jean, Victor, and you others, retire; go in the hallway. Attend at the entrance, Francois. So; now we shall talk. Monsieur, I wish you to think very cool. Then listen; I will be briefly. It is that I am well known to be all, entire' hones'. Gamblist? Ah, yes; true and mos profitable; but fair, always fair; every one say that. Is it not so? Think of it. And—is there never a w'isper come to M. le Duc that not all people belief him to play always hones'? ”

“ M. de Chateaurien, breaking into his narrative, addressed him very quietly. “Monsieur,” he said, “none but swine deny the nobleness of that good and gentle lady, Mademoiselle la Princesse de Bourbon-Conti. Every Frenchman know' that her cousin is a bad rebel and ingrate, who had only honor and rispec' for her, but was so wilful he could not let even the king say, 'You shall marry here, you shall marry there.' My frien's,” the young man turned to the others, “may I ask you to close roun' in a circle for one moment? ”

“ He forgot Lady Mary's presence in his excitement. “Lay hands on him!” he shouted. “Tear those orders from him!”
Molyneux threw himself between. “One word!” he cried. “One word before you offer an outrage you will repent all your lives!”
“Or let M. de Winterset come alone,” laughed M. Beaucaire.
“Do you expect me to fight a cut-throat barber, and with bare hands?”
“I think one does not expec' monsieur to fight anybody. Would I fight you, you think? That was why I had my servants, that evening we play. I would gladly fight almos' any one in the won' ”

“ Molyneux heaved a great sigh of relief. “Shall I—” He turned to M. Beaucaire.
The young man laughed, and said: “Tell him come here at once.
“Impudent to the last!” cried Bantison, as Molyneux hurried from the room.
“Now you goin' to see M. Beaucaire's master,” said Beaucaire to Lady Mary. “'Tis true what I say, the other night. I cross from Prance in his suite; my passport say as his barber. Then to pass the ennui of exile, I come to Bath and play for what one will. It kill the time. But when the people hear I have been a servant they come only secretly ”

“ He is a great man, but he don' want all the glory!”
“Barber,” replied the Duke, “I must tell you that I gladly descend to bandy words with you; your monstrous impudence is a claim to rank I cannot ignore. But a lackey who has himself followed by six other lackeys—”
“Ha, ha! Has not M. le Duc been busy all this evening to justify me? And I think mine mus' be the bes' six. Ha, ha! You think?”
“M. de Chateaurien,” said Lady Mary, “we are waiting for you.” ”

“ Will you see the Duke murdered?”
“The Duke!” laughed Guilford. “They will not kill him, unless—be easy, dear madam, 'twill be explained. Gad's life!” he muttered to Molyneux, “'Twere time the varlet had his lashing! D'ye hear her?”
“Barber or no barber,” answered Molyneux, “I wish I had warned him. He fights as few gentlemen could. Ah—ah! Look at that! 'Tis a shame!”
On foot, his hat gone, his white coat sadly rent and gashed, flecked, too, with red, M. Beaucaire, wary, alert, brilliant, seemed to transform himself into a dozen fencing-masters ”