"On guard, messieurs!"

Sir Edward Rivington was hesitating, and stood with the dawn of a smile upon his face.

"On guard, messieurs! _s'il vous plait._"

The Amba.s.sador shook his head, and, throwing down his sword, advanced, with hand extended to his adversary.

"I tender you my apologies," he said, gravely. "I admit I spoke triflingly of French duelling. I admit that I sneered at several of your own affairs of honor. I confess that I regarded them as child's play, not knowing then, as I do now, that you are a sublime master of the art of swordsmanship, and could have killed every man who stood before you."

"Every man, save yourself, Sir Edward!" the Duke exclaimed, with a slight smile of satisfaction.

"You were playing, as I was, for the disarm."

"And neither of us succeeded. Frankly, for the first time in my life I have met my equal. Strange that he should be one of the nation that discountenances the use of the rapier."

"You will accept my unconditional withdrawal," Sir Edward continued.

"Nay, more, if you desire it, it shall be more openly proclaimed."

For answer le Duc d'Eautine handed his sword to his second, and took Sir Edward's outstretched hand in both of his.

"Sir Edward Rivington," he exclaimed, "I am too honored. Say no more. My greatest pride is that I have won the respect of England's Amba.s.sador; my greatest honor that I have gained the friendship of a splendid swordsman."

These and many other high-flown compliments, dear to our nation, pa.s.sed between them and between their seconds, until it seemed we must all have floated back to olden times, to the stately days of the Louis--so anxious was each man to pay courtly compliments to the other.

_Mon Dieu!_ what changeable mortals, what creatures of impulse men are; and yet they say that we women are wavering and fickle!

"You will be my guest, _mon ami_, for just another day?" the Duke hazarded, doubtfully, it must be confessed.

"My dear friend," replied the Amba.s.sador, "don't you think that you have delayed the course of diplomatic relations sufficiently long? I expect you will get into disgrace for this attack upon my sacred person, as it is," and he broke into a merry laugh.

"I have made one true friend," returned the Duke, seriously; "what matter the means? Should I find it necessary to suddenly quit France, I shall carry with me the honor of counting yourself among those whom I hold nearest to my heart."

"Quit France! All nonsense," brusquely interjected Sir Edward. "Put your best team to a coach, and I'll drive you all back to Paris; then, for a moment, the urgency of State affairs, _et apres_, in a poor way you will permit me to return your hospitality. At seven, _mes amis_, at the 'Bristol.'"

Sir Edward Rivington must have been a past master of all the arts. As he handled his rapier perfectly, so he drove the four-in-hand; and, doubtless, in all other things he was equally admirable. These English are so thorough.

And of a truth he was certainly charming in conversation, for I, who sat beside him, can vouch for it.

"Will the budding flowers of diplomatic relations have withered owing to your absence, Sir Edward?" I ventured to ask as we drove through St.

Cloud.

"No; I do not think so," he answered, with a laugh. "But, seriously, it is a little troublesome. They must have been r.e.t.a.r.ded somewhat, and I shall possibly be blamed for taking a brief holiday at such an important moment."

"Then you will call it a holiday?"

He looked at me with a slight elevation of the eyebrows.

"Naturally!"

"You are more than generous, Sir Edward."

"Tut, tut! but still, things may be a trifle unpleasant. For instance, an hour before le Duc d'Eautine's pressing invitation that I should become his guest arrived, I received a bundle of official papers from your Premier, Monsieur Roche, and, not realizing that I was going to take a holiday, placed them at once in my safe, where they now repose, untouched and unlocked at."

"Untouched and unlocked at!" I cried, my blood tingling with delight at the kindness of the fates.

"Yes; it sounds undiplomatic, does it not?"

"Are we driving direct to the Emba.s.sy?"

"Why not? It will destroy the ridiculous rumor of abduction."

"Then, Sir Edward, as a distinct favor to me, will you not at once open the bundle and give to me, in order that I may myself return it to my friend, Monsieur Roche, a doc.u.ment placed there by error, which is not addressed to you?"

"Certainly," he replied, flicking the leaders with his whip. "I should have returned it under any conditions, but, since you wish it, I will do so through you."

I sighed a sigh of deep contentment. "You will make me ever your debtor," I murmured.

"Not at all. But is this the reason of your visit to Versailles?" he inquired after a moment, with a strange little smile.

"Suppose you exchange a little small talk with your other friends, and not devote all your attention to me," I suggested, in a tone of mild reproof.

And, generously discreet, Sir Edward obeyed my desires, till we rolled into Paris, I pa.s.sing the while in thinking what a fortunate thing it was that Gaspard had not given way to my temptations and purloined his Excellency's private despatches.

PRINCE FERDINAND'S ENTANGLEMENT

Monsieur Roche waltzed divinely, and so thoroughly original was that charming man that he never once made allusion to either the crush or the heat. Yet they were both insufferable.

We strolled into the conservatory, and, taking my fan from my hand, he gently waved it before me, keeping time to the distant strains of the waltz, which we preferred to sit out.

"To be beautiful and accomplished," he murmured, as he seated himself beside me, "is no excuse for idleness when a woman is also brilliant."

I recognized the prelude to a commission, and became attentive, for I was _ennui_ of the tiring pleasures that make up the daily routine of the existence of a woman of fashion.

"It is different from the English affair," he whispered, reflectively.

"And so it need be!" I replied, a little testily, for Gaspard Levive and I had been somewhat ill at ease with each other since we journeyed _tete-a-tete_ from London to Paris.

"It is what a woman's soul craves for--romance."

"A commission from Monsieur le Premier, and yet romantic," I cried, with a laugh. "Monsieur fears to plead his own cause, and would send a persuasive amba.s.sador, _n'est ce pa_?"

"One as skilful in tact and diplomacy as she is in herself perfection,"

the flatterer answered; and then, "It is not a service to myself," he added, somewhat stiffly, for my bachelor friend was sensitive on these little matters, and rather prided himself on a flattering unction that he laid to his soul, that no woman in Paris--but I wander, for as he spoke I took my fan abruptly from his hand, and gazed severely right through his perplexed face into the ballroom beyond.