Sport Royal, and Other Stories. Hope Anthony

Sport Royal, and Other Stories - Hope Anthony


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word was just about to be given, when to my surprise the baron cried:

      “Stop!”

      Everyone looked at him in astonishment.

      “Before we fire,” he went on, “I wish to ask this gentleman one question. No – I will not be stopped!”

      His seconds, who had advanced, fell back before his resolute gesture, and he continued, addressing me:

      “Sir, will you do me the honor to answer one question? Are you the person who accompanied – ”

      Vooght struck in quickly:

      “No names, please!”

      The baron bowed, and began again.

      “On your honor, sir, are you the gentleman who accompanied the lady in question to the masked ball on the night in question?”

      These gentlemen were all diplomatic. I thought I would be diplomatic too.

      “Surely this is grossly irregular?” I said, appealing to my supporters.

      “I ask for an answer,” said the baron.

      “It’s nothing but a new insult,” said I.

      “I have my reasons, and those gentlemen know them.”

      This was intolerable.

      “You mean to fight, or you don’t, M. le Baron,” said I. “Which is it?”

      He shrugged his shoulders.

      “Your master is well served,” he said with a sneer.

      His seconds looked bewildered: Vooght bit his nails, and Dumergue swore furiously, and, coming near me, whispered in my ear:

      “Shoot straight! Stop his cursed mouth for him!”

      I had not the least intention of killing the baron, if I could avoid it without being killed myself; but I thought a slight lesson would improve his manners, and, when the word came, I fired with a careful aim. He evidently meant mischief, for I heard his ball whiz past my ear; I missed him clean, being much out of practice, and, I dare say, rather nervous. I pulled myself together for the second shot, for I saw that my opponent was not to be trifled with, and I should not have been the least surprised to find myself in paradise the next moment. On the word I fired; the baron fell back with a cry, and simultaneously I felt a tingle in my left hand, and the unmistakable warm ooze of blood. The witnesses ran to my opponent, and raised his head. Dumergue turned round to me:

      “Are you hurt?”

      “A scratch,” I answered, for I found the ball had run up my arm, merely grazing me in its passage.

      A hurried consultation followed; then Vooght and Dumergue raised their hats and joined me.

      “We had best be off,” said Vooght.

      “Is he dead?” I asked.

      “No,” said Dumergue, with a little disappointment, I thought. “He’ll get over it; but he’s safe for a week or two. Not a bad shot, colonel!”

      So I was a colonel!

      “Now,” said Vooght, “we’ll drive back, and send you to the countess.”

      I had made up my mind to get away from the place as soon as I could, but my curiosity to see the causa belli was too strong, and I said I should be delighted to keep my engagement.

      Dumergue smiled significantly, and Vooght hurried us into the carriage. We drove back to the town, and then two or three miles into the country again, till we came to a pretty villa, embowered in trees, and standing some two hundred yards back from the road. There was no drive up to the house, a turf walk forming the passage from the highway. Vooght motioned me to get down.

      “Don’t you accompany me?” I asked.

      Dumergue smiled again.

      “Oh, no!” he said. “Come for us at the hotel, and we’ll all be off by the two o’clock train.”

      “Unless you are detained,” added Vooght.

      “I shouldn’t be detained, if I were you,” said Dumergue dryly. “Who knows? The baron may die!”

      I was quite determined not to be detained, and said so. I was also quite determined not to keep the rendezvous at the hotel, but to slip away quietly by myself. The colonel might arrive at any moment.

      I watched my friends drive off, and then walked briskly up to the house. A man in livery met me before I had time to ring.

      “Are you the gentleman?” he asked.

      I nodded.

      “Will you be so kind, sir, as to walk straight in? That door, sir. The countess expects you.”

      I had my doubts about that, but I walked in, shutting the door swiftly behind me, lest the servant should hear anything. I thought an explosion not improbable.

      The room was dim, close curtains shutting out the growing strength of the sunshine. The air was thick with the scent of flowers that overpowered without quite smothering the appetizing smell rising from a table profusely spread for breakfast. I had entered softly, and had time to take note of the surroundings before I became aware of a tall, slight figure in white, first moving impetuously toward me, then stopping abruptly in surprise. Presumably, this was the countess. Charming as she was, with her open blue eyes, fluffy golden hair, and fresh tints, I wondered from what noble house she sprang. However, the fountains of honor are many, and their streams meander sometimes through very winding channels.

      The countess stood and looked at me. I bowed and smiled.

      “You are naturally surprised,” I said, in my smoothest tone.

      “I was expecting – another gentleman.”

      “Yes, I know. I come in his place.”

      “In his place?” she repeated, in incredulous tones.

      “Yes; in the colonel’s place.”

      “Hush!” she exclaimed. “We needn’t mention names.”

      It suited me perfectly not to mention names.

      “I beg pardon,” I murmured.

      “But how is it possible?” she asked. “Do you know what he was to come for?”

      “Oh, yes!”

      “And he hasn’t come?”

      “No.”

      She frowned.

      “Wouldn’t he come?”

      “He couldn’t. So I came.”

      “But how did you know anything about it? Did he tell you about the pr – about the affair?”

      “No. I only heard – ”

      “From him?”

      “Yes – that you wanted a champion.”

      “Oh, that’s absurd! Why, you never heard of me!”

      “Ah, indeed I have!”

      “And – did you recognize me under my new name?”

      “Your – ”

      “My – my title. You know.”

      “The – he told me that. Must I confess? I jumped at the chance of serving you.”

      “You had never seen me!”

      “Perhaps I had seen your photograph.”

      She smiled at this, but still looked perturbed.

      “Pray don’t be distressed,” said I. “I am very discreet.”

      “Oh, I hope so! The prince [she spoke in a whisper] was so urgent about discretion. You haven’t seen him?”

      “The prince? No.”

      “And – when is it to be?”

      “I don’t quite understand.”


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