"That will do," said Maurice."Now, Francois, good and faithful servant, take your master over to the lounge, and sit down beside him until I get into my clothes.Yes; that's it." He shoved his collar and tie into a pocket, slipped on his vest and coat, put on his hat and slung his topcoat over his arm.During these maneuvers the revolver remained conspicuously in sight."Now, Francois, lead the way to the street door.By the time you return to your illustrious master, who is the prince or duke of something or other, pursuit will be out of the question.Now, as for you," turning to Beauvais, "the forty-eight hours hold good.
During that time I shall go armed.Forty-eight hours from now Ishall inform the authorities at the nearest consulate.If they catch you, that's your affair.Off we go, Francois.""By God!--" began Beauvais, struggling to his feet.
"Come so far as this door," warned Maurice, "and, bound or not, I'll knock you down.Hang you! Do you think my temper will improve in your immediate vicinity? Do you think for a moment that I do not lust for your blood as heartily as you lust for mine? Go to the devil your own way; you'll go fast enough!" He caught Francois by the shoulders and pushed him into the hall, followed, and closed the door.Francois had been graduated from the stables, therefore his courage never rose to sublime heights.
All the way down the stairs he lamented; and each time he turned his head and saw the glitter of the revolver barrel he choked with terror.
"If you do not kill me, Monsieur, he will; he will, I know he will! My God, how did it happen? He will kill me!" and the voice sank into a muffled sob.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Maurice could not repress his laughter."He will not harm you; he threatened you merely to delay me.Open the door." He stepped out into the refreshing air.
"By the way, tell your master not to go to the trouble of having me arrested, for the first thing in the morning I shall place a sealed packet in the hands of the British minister, to be opened if I do not call for it within twenty-four hours.And say to your master that I shall keep the rose.""Mon Dieu! A woman! I might have known!" ejaculated Francois, as the door banged in his face.
Maurice, on reaching the pavement, took to his legs, for he saw three men rapidly approaching.Perhaps they had heard the pistol shot.He concluded not to wait to learn.He continued his rush till he gained his room.It was two o'clock.He had been in the Colonel's room nearly three hours.It seemed only so many minutes.He hunted for his brandy, found it and swallowed several mouthfuls.Then he dropped into a chair from sheer exhaustion.
Reaction laid hold of him.His hands shook, his legs trembled, and perspiration rolled down his cheek.
"By George!" This exclamation stood alone, but it was an Odyssey.He remained stupefied, staring at his shoes, over which his stockings had fallen.His shirt buttons were gone, and the bosom was guiltless of its former immaculateness.After a time he became conscious of a burning pain in the elbow of his right arm.He glanced down at his hand, to find it covered with drying blood.He jumped up and cast about his clothes.One leg of his trousers was soaked, and the dull ache in his thigh told the cause.He salved the wounds and bound them in strips of handkerchiefs, which he held in place by using some of the cast-off cravats.
"That was about as close to death as a man can get and pull out.
I feel as if I had swallowed that cursed blade of his.I am an ass, sure enough.I've always a bad cold when there's a rat about; can't smell him.And the rascal remembered me! Will he stay in spite of my threat? I'll hang on here till to-morrow.If he stays--I won't.He has the devil's own of a sword.Hang it, my nerves are all gone to smash."Soon some gentler thought took hold, and he smiled tenderly.He brought forth the rose, turned it this way and that, studied it, stroked it, held it to his lips as a lover holds the hand of the woman he loves.Her rose; somehow his heart told him that she had laughed because Beauvais had stooped in vain.
"Ah, Maurice," he said, "you are growing over fond.But why not?
Who will know? To have loved is something."He crept into bed; but sleep refused him its offices, and he tossed about in troubled dreams.He fought all kinds of duels with all sorts of weapons.He was killed a half dozen times, but the archbishop always gave him something which rekindled the vital spark.A thousand Beauvaises raged at him.A thousand princesses were ever in the background, waiting to be saved.He swore to kill these Beauvaises, and after many fruitless endeavors, he succeeded in smothering them in their gray pelisses.Then he woke, as dreamers always wake when they pass some great dream-crisis, and found himself in a deadly struggle with a pillow and a bed-post.He laughed and sprang out of bed.
"It's no use, I can't sleep.I am an old woman."So he lit his pipe and sat dreaming with his eyes open, smoking and smoking, until the sickly pallor of dawn appeared in the sky, and he knew that day had come.
