The Greatest Historical Novels. Rafael Sabatini
'That is not the point.'
'It is very much the point.'
Madame de Plougastel sought to make peace. 'Indeed, Aline, if it was a friend of André's ...'
But Aline interrupted her. 'That is not the point at all, madame, between André and me. Why was he not frank? Why did he use me so slyly, luring me into betraying a confidence Monsieur had reposed in me, using me as if ... as if I were a spy.'
'Aline!'
'Did you do less? Will it appear less when it becomes known that this man, this dangerous agent of your revolutionary friends, made his escape because I betrayed the intentions concerning him?'
'It will never become known,' said André-Louis. 'I've talked to Monsieur d'Entragues. I've stopped his questions. His mind is satisfied.'
'There, Aline. You see,' said Madame de Plougastel. 'All is well, after all.'
'All is very far from well. How can there be any confidence between us after this? I must keep a guard upon my tongue. How can I be sure when I talk to André whether I am talking to my lover or to a revolutionary agent? If Monsieur knew, what would he think of me?'
'That, of course, is important,' said André-Louis, ironical.
'Do you sneer? Certainly it is important. If Monsieur honours me with his confidence, am I to betray it? I am to appear in his eyes either as a traitress or a little fool who cannot set a guard upon her tongue. A pleasant choice! This man has escaped. He has gone back to Paris to work evil against the Princes, against the King.'
'It comes to this, then: that you are sorry he was not assassinated.'
Being true, and yet not the whole truth, this put her further out of patience.
'It is not true that he was to have been assassinated. And if it were, that is but the effect, and I am dealing with the cause. Why will you confuse them?'
'Because they are always inseparable. Cause and effect are but the two sides of a fact. And in justice to me remember that he was my friend.'
'You mean that you think more of him than you do of me,' she said, with feminine perversity. 'For his sake you lied to me; for your silence amounted to no less. You duped me, tricked me by your seemingly idle questions and your false air of indifference. You are too clever for me, André.'
'I wish that I were clever enough to make you see the folly of all this.'
Madame de Plougastel put a hand on her shoulder. 'Aline, my dear, can you find no excuse for him?'
'Can you, madame?'
'Why, every excuse since hearing that this man was his friend. I would not have had him behave otherwise. Neither should you.'
'It was not upon you he exercised his slyness, madame, or you might think differently. Nor is that all, as you know. What is this of a duel on your hands, André?'
'Oh, that!' André-Louis was airy, welcoming the change of subject. 'That arranges itself.'
'Arranges itself! You've ruined yourself completely with Monsieur.'
'There, at least, I can prove you wrong. I've seen Monsieur. His Highness is tolerably pleased with me. It is my opponent who is out of favour.'
'You ask me to believe this?'
'You may ascertain it for yourself. Monsieur pays attention to facts; permits a connection between cause and effect which you deny. When I had told him why I smacked Monsieur de Tourzel's face, he gave me reason. Monsieur de Tourzel is to apologize to me. I am waiting for him now.'
'Monsieur de Tourzel is to apologize to you because you smacked his face?'
'No, my sweet perversity. But for the reason he gave me to do it.'
'What reason?'
He told them, and saw distress in both their faces. 'Monsieur,' he added, 'does not consider that a buffet suffices to extinguish the offence. That may be out of tenderness for you, because he perceived, as he said, that in a sense it touched your honour.'
He saw her eyes soften at last, and winced to see it, accounting it the reflection of her gratitude to Monsieur. 'That was gracious of his Highness. You see, André, how gracious, how generous he can be.'
Monsieur d'Entragues came in accompanied by Monsieur de Tourzel. André-Louis looked over his shoulder at them.
'I am wanted. Shall I see you again before I go, Aline?'
She had resumed her coldness. 'Not today, André. I must consider all this. I am shaken. Hurt.'
Madame de Plougastel leaned towards him. 'Leave me to make your peace, André.'
He kissed her hand, and then Aline's, which was very coldly yielded. Then, having held the door for them, he turned to meet the newcomers.
The tall, offending young officer was looking pale and vicious. No doubt he had received the messages intimating Monsieur's displeasure, and he saw his advancement imperilled by the events. He came stiffly to attention before André-Louis, and bowed formally. André-Louis returned the bow as formally.
'I am commanded by Monsieur to retract the words I used to you last night, sir, and to apologize for them.'
André-Louis disliked the studiously offensive tone.
'I am commanded by Monsieur to accept the apology. I gather that we make this exchange of civilities with mutual regret.'
'Certainly with regret on my side,' said the officer.
'You may temper it, then, with the reflection that once your duty to his Majesty no longer claims your sword, you may call upon me for anything that you may conceive I owe you.'
Only Monsieur d'Entragues's intervention at that moment saved Captain de Tourzel's countenance.
'Messieurs, what is this? Will you build a new quarrel out of the old one? There is no more to be said between you. This affair must go no further, nor must it be resumed under pain of Monsieur's severe displeasure. You understand me, gentlemen?'
They bowed and separated, and André-Louis went back to his inn in an indifferent humour.
CHAPTER VII
MADAME DE BALBI
At long last the great Prussian and Austrian legions, reënforced by the chivalry of France, were moving forward. Longwy was being invested, and the campaign for Throne and Altar was beginning in earnest, just one month later than it should have begun but for the vagaries of the King of Prussia, the Agamemnon of this invading host.
A month ago, when all was ready and the weather fine, this Prussian giant had descended upon Coblentz and upon Charles William of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel, who was the real commander-in-chief and a soldier of repute. Suspending all effective movement his Majesty had wasted precious time upon reviews, parades, and fêtes to celebrate a victory which had yet to be won.
The brothers of the King of France, possessing no greater military acumen than his Majesty of Prussia, were content enough to coöperate in these junketings, and to waste upon them large sums of the borrowed money which already was running woefully short. Condé, the only soldier among the Princes, fretted the while in his camp at Worms over a delay that was all in favour of the unready enemy, and grumbled—not without reason—that an invisible hand withheld them perilously from attempting an assured success.
Now, at last, all delays were ended; now that the rains had converted the Rhineland into a world of mud. The Princes were at once to rejoin the army of the émigrés, and make a pretence at least of commanding it, under the mentorship of Condé and the Maréchal de Broglie. Their ladies—that is to say, the wife of one of them and the mistresses of both—were to leave Coblentz at once.
Madame