De Rothan

“ And De Rothan was popular. He could be gay, quaint, and witty. He rode here, there, and everywhere, a man who should have been mistrusted, and yet was not. His French-Irish cleverness carried him along. He could speak English perfectly when he chose, but for effect he played picturesquely with the language, and out-Frenchified the vulgar notion of a Frenchman when he was dealing with half-educated people. A little quixotry was useful. He made much of his ostentation of wearing black, and of his passionate devotion to the Royalist cause. ”

“ And look you, lad, the game is to play up to the vanity of a man like De Rothan. Fencing's a subtle art. 'Tain't all wrist and sinew. There's mind in it, personality, soul. It's a picking to bits of human nature. You don't fight a man's sword alone, but his grit, or his conceit, and his damned flourishes."
"You are a cunning master, Jeremy."
"Why, confound me, half life is acting. Act when you fight, lad. I could play a man like De Rothan the veriest clown's game, make him think me a bungler, and run him through before he had the sense to take me seriously. ”

“ His forearm was thin and white, and shaded with black hairs.
"More supple than most young men's! You have a fine arm, sir, the arm of a ploughboy. Come—I am at your service."
They took ground, saluted, and crossed swords, De Rothan resting his weight on his left foot, and holding his head with a kind of high fierceness. His eyes looked dangerous yet amused.
Jasper called to mind Jeremy's advice. De Rothan was a man whose vanity might be played with, and who might be lured into despising his opponent. It takes a subtle swordsman to ape clumsiness, and yet to keep a clever adversary out. ”

“ He emerged, dusty and speckled with spittle-blight, a man furious with physical shame.
"I do not fight like a ploughboy. You shall hear from me."
He felt his wrenched shoulder, and recovered some of his haughtiness.
"You have strained my shoulder-joint."
"Rest it for a few days, or months."
"Your insolence may cost you dear."
"I shall be at your service whenever you choose to fight."
He gave De Rothan a steady stare, and then climbed into the saddle.
"The fat's in the fire," he thought, as he rode off down the lane, "but—God! it was good crushing that fellow's ribs." ”

“ As for De Rothan, he found Jasper a most companionable young person, a man who took his own honourable indignation with vast seriousness, and could be pricked into all manner of odd exasperations. Jasper had not learned to wink at life, or to sneer upon occasions. De Rothan baited his youthful sincerity. He would take his glass of wine and smoke his cheroot in Jasper's attic, sitting on the edge of Gaston's bed, and prodding the Englishman with his cynicism as he would have prodded a pig with a stick. ”

“ Jasper knelt awhile behind the furze, gripping his coat collar with one hand, and staring hard at the green gorse. He was ready to believe that De Rothan was Nance's lover, and a passion of repulsion held him for the moment. The anger in his blood was a cold and ugly anger. A man feels the more bitter when he has reason to despise himself. ”

“ Jasper made his way back toward Bramble End and Tom Stook's cottage. The night seemed very wonderful. The black summer woods reminded him of Nance's hair.
Three miles away De Rothan was riding slowly along lanes and field paths, moody-eyed and savage, a man possessed by ugly emotions. Jerome's failure to appear at the quarry had not troubled him very greatly. It was a dull anger against the man who had toppled him into a ditch that filled De Rothan's consciousness. He hated Jasper Benham with all the hatred of which a strong and passionate man is capable. ”

“ Jasper watched him. How easy it would be to bring the man down, wing him, put an end to all his weavings of treachery. He did not doubt but that De Rothan was armed. They might make a fight of it there, but Jasper was not given to shooting in the dark. He wanted to prove the whole case against De Rothan, to convince himself and Nance of the man's double dealing.
Minutes passed, and De Rothan showed a growing impatience. He began to walk to and fro along the trackway, stopping from time to time to listen or stare out over the stretch of moonlit furze. ”

“ No man could be more picturesquely charming than De Rothan. He had the mellowness of long experience, and could ape the chivalrous and dignified tenderness of an old beau.
"Turn the young thing's head, eh! She's confoundedly alluring. Durrell's a fool."
Nance longed to be away. She escaped when her father went to the mantel-shelf for his pipe, and fled away to her room.
It had been flashed upon her mind that De Rothan was the friend who had told her father these things concerning Jasper Benham. ”

“ They were climbing the hill side by side, Jeremy leading his horse by the bridle. The meeting roused a quick crackle of complex enmities. De Rothan stiffened in the saddle, and raised his hat to Nance.
She did not look at him, but beyond him, and her face was white frost. Jeremy bit his lip. There were so many things that he desired to say and do.
De Rothan smiled in his face as he passed him.
"Good day to you, sir; I may tell our friend that he has a kind relative who sees that his shoes are kept warm."
"Tell him what you please. It won't matter. Liars are easily known." ”

“ The Sussex folk knew him as the Chevalier de Rothan, aristocrat and émigré, a wild partisan of the Bourbons, and a wearer of the white cockade. He had taken the Brick House between the villages of Westfield and Sedlescombe, ridden to hounds, entertained the notables, and served them off plate marked with the De Rothan arms. The man seemed to have money.
"Ah, gentlemen," he would say, "I was more fortunate than many of my friends. I not only saved my head, but my plate and my jewels. It is also something to have money in English companies. But I am poor. I make what show I can." ”

“ But even the easing of this blood lust was an inopportune necessity thrust upon him in the thick of many dangers. The affair had come to a head at the moment when De Rothan least desired it, for there were the larger issues to be remembered. In ten days—twenty days—a month, Napoleon might be in England. De Rothan wanted those days free and untrammelled. If he could only fight this man in some secret corner, and leave him lying hidden in a ditch! Yes, but would Jasper Benham consent to such conditions? Would it be possible for them to fight without a living soul knowing of the quarrel? ”

“ De Rothan laughed, with his eyes on Nance.
"Mees Durrell, your father would make me out an old man! But it is not so. I can run and leap against any lad of twenty."
There are some men whose vanity cannot be controlled when they are brought into the presence of women. De Rothan was such a man. He was the peacock on the instant, strutting, swaggering, not content unless he outshone all other men.
"Though an exile, the English women have almost made me forget my France. Why is it, Mees Durrell, that the English women have such beautiful skins? ”

“ He moved three steps nearer to De Rothan, pistol on hip, sword ready.
"Have you any more cheating cards to play, sir, before we come to the last hand?"
De Rothan's face looked stormy. The light, insolent humour had left him. He was up against grim weapons and grim men.
"Shoot away, my little fellow; my own pistol is empty."
As he spoke, he tossed the empty pistol aside upon the grass. Jeremy's eyes glittered maliciously.
"I do not shoot women and unarmed men, sir. Even a cur may be given a chance to fight. You have your sword there." ”

“ Durrell looked fixedly at De Rothan.
"Chevalier——"
De Rothan guessed what his thoughts were and what he wished to say. He bowed to the father, and then to Nance.
"Sir, your whole attitude is one of unjustified distrust. I love my friends—if I hate my enemies. Miss Nance is far safer in my house than if she were at Stonehanger." ”

“ The most cynical of men are often the worst sensualists, and anything that balks their appetite rouses the wrath of the animal in them. De Rothan's hatred of Jasper Benham was natural enough in itself. He had been meddled with and humiliated by this young man, and De Rothan had no sentimentality when the stiff-haired anger of a dog was on him. Man of the world that he was, his cynicism could not save his vanity from being exasperated by the affair between Nance and Jasper Benham. ”

“ She supposed that Jeremy and his friends were hidden yonder in the woods. They would be watching the house for her signal, a signal that she could not give.
Nance did not sleep that night, which was hardly to be wondered at. The house was full of noises, the stamping of the horses on the oak floor of the hall, the passing to and fro of men, the noise of hammering in some distant room. De Rothan was preparing his baggage for a sudden retreat, packing such valuables as he possessed, and ordering his men to break everything that had to be left behind. ”

“ He lifted her up into the seat that was half pannier, half saddle. Gaston and François had hoisted Durrell on to the old horse. De Rothan mounted his own, drew up beside Nance, and took Étoile's bridle. They rode out under the hollies and laurels and across the little stone bridge into the lane.
It was a fine night, splendid with stars. The world was black and silent and breathing in its sleep to the faint drift of a light sea breeze. The air was fresh and dewy. On Stonehanger Common a wood of birch trees with their delicate fingers caressed the stars. ”

“ David Barfoot met them, and Durrell signed him to take De Rothan's horse.
They turned into the shrubbery, and took to pacing one of the wild, overgrown paths. Laurels and hollies hedged them in, and arched out the sunlight. ”

“ He had ridden out very early in the direction of Guestling and the sea, and Tom Stook, lying in a dry ditch and peering through the hedge-bottom, saw him return. His horse shied where the grass lane turned in from the by-road, and something ominous about the incident seemed to set a spark to De Rothan's black anger. He beat the horse about the head with his fist, and then sawed at the bit till the beast's mouth bled.
Stook was no lamb, but De Rothan's savagery angered him.
"You tarrifyin' devil! Someone may be giving you a bloody mouth before long." ”

“ De Rothan was the scapegoat upon whom she laid the guilt and the burden of her resentment, though how Anthony Durrell had been inveigled into such schemes she could not imagine. What quarrel had he with England? He was a morose man, a silent man, and perhaps in a vague way she felt that he had been disappointed. Nance's nature was the very opposite of her father's. She was direct, generous, less ready to feel aggrieved. The flaming discontent of the fanatic is incomprehensible to healthy, humour-loving, sanguine people. ”

“ Durrell, in the thick of his contemptuous amazement at De Rothan's audacity, absolutely refused to leave Stonehanger.
"But, father, what are we to do? We are in the man's power."
"Refuse to do anything."
He persisted in remaining in bed, and Nance had to leave him, and go down alone into the hall. A lantern stood on the oak chair by the door, and De Rothan was standing with his back to it. He came forward gallantly when he saw Nance upon the stairs.
"Nance, you will forgive these highwayman's methods. I cannot help myself. It is for the best." ”

“ He looked savage and dangerous. They passed into the parlour. There were glasses on the table, and De Rothan took a spirit bottle from an oak cupboard, and mixed Jerome a stiff glass of grog.
"Sit down, man. What has happened? Why didn't you come to the quarry?" ”

“ Anthony——"
"But you are not, sir. Let us keep to impersonal matters."
De Rothan threw a whimsical and conspiring look at Nance.
"Impersonal matters! As if life could go on with all our desires carefully tied up in silk handkerchiefs and put away in cupboards. Mr. Durrell, you are one of the most learned of men, but——"
He shrugged his shoulders expressively and looked sympathetically at Nance.
"Well, to be impersonal. I saw all kinds of your good English people strutting to and fro on the parade. You look so good, you English, that a well-dressed woman seems scandalous. ”

“ Have you any personal spite against the lad?"
He watched De Rothan narrowly.
"No more than the natural contempt of a grown man for a big fool of a boy who tries to kick him."
Jeremy's mouth betrayed sarcasm.
"I believed he kicked—with success."
But he regretted the gibe when he saw the glint in De Rothan's eyes.
"Mr. Winter, I am too big a man to bear malice."
"Thank heaven for that!"
"I hold Mr. Benham as a hostage."
"And if the French come, sir?"
De Rothan shrugged his shoulders.
"A country squireling will not matter. He will be one of a mob of sheep." ”

“ That night Nance watched at her window, sitting there in the darkness with a cloak over her shoulders. She had heard De Rothan pass along the gallery, pause outside her door, and then walk on toward his room. When the dusk fell she had managed to push an oak chest against the door so that no one could force their way in without waking her if she were asleep.
The house seemed very silent, and the summer night was a noiseless glitter of stars. Now and again she heard the faint splashing of water as frogs leapt in the great rain-water cistern below her window. ”