But fortunately we steamed into the Gare du Nord; Gaspard's poetic moment was ruined by a descent from the dizzy heights of sentiment to the commonplace confusion of an arrival platform, and, with a diplomat's smile at the inevitable, he accepted the position.

What creatures of impulse the s.e.x we prefer must be. In a four hours'

journey from Calais to Paris he must needs choose the last seventy seconds for serious conversation, in order to be interrupted at the instant when I was most attentive. And how those supreme moments, when lost, seem to be lost forever! Commonplaces, commonplaces, small talk and frivolity from Paris on to Versailles, from Versailles to the Chateau of le Duc d'Eautine.

I felt quite serious when he was speaking just before we arrived in Paris; but had he attempted to resume the subject I should have smiled, and he, wise in diplomacy beyond his years, realized the position, and accepted it.

Our carriage drove into the park of the Chateau, and, leaving the main drive, stopped, in a few minutes, where, in the shade of a magnificent cedar, a group of men were standing, evidently awaiting it. Le Duc d'Eautine, Monsieur Faude, his bosom friend, and Sir Edward Rivington, the lost Amba.s.sador, all seemingly charmed with one another's company, and only a suspicious-looking case, leaning against the tree, spoiled the harmony of the gathering.

It is a thing I have since almost boasted of. I am the only woman who has ever caused that paragon of courtesy, le Duc d'Eautine, to lose his temper and forget all etiquette.

"_Sapristi!_" he gasped, as I alighted--"what pleasantry is this, madame? And you, monsieur," he continued, fiercely, turning upon my poor Gaspard--"you, monsieur, explain this intrusion, or--"

"Tut, tut, _mon cher_ Duc," I mildly interjected, "I come as a service to you, one of my oldest friends."

"I need no service, madame."

"You need great service, _mon enfant_," I retorted, reprovingly, for my twenty-seven years afforded me vast superiority over his twenty-five.

"You need great service. What is this foolish escapade of abducting the representative of England, and compelling him to fight a duel in your own park before he regains his freedom? What is--"

"It is an affair of my own, madame," he interrupted.

"An affair of your own," I cried, with a suspicion of anger in my tones.

"It is an affair of the nation, of France, when you lure an Englishman, an Amba.s.sador, to your house, and force him into a duel."

"I force him to nothing," he said, as we walked aside. "He has been my guest--"

"Tut! Paris knows he has disappeared; you lured him away, and you now hold him a prisoner here until he fights this duel, _n'est ce pas_?"

"I do not contradict. I but defend my honor; Sir Edward Rivington spoke of me indiscreetly. He alluded to me before my friends as a mere boy; he ridiculed my duels, laughed at our code of honor, mocked at what he described the satisfaction of a scratch, and scoffed as only an Englishman can. A man who has never stood before the sword of his enemy.

I challenged him; he laughed, and turned aside with the sneer that Englishmen had neither time nor inclination for such pleasantries. He spoke of his duty to his own country, and, in a word, covered himself with the invulnerability of his official position. He, at the Emba.s.sy, was in England, not in France. I removed him from his Emba.s.sy. In the grounds of my chateau he is in France, and not in England. In France, where a man avenges insults with his sword."

"Excellent! But if you wound him?"

"Be a.s.sured, madame, I shall not. I shall not wound him, nor shall he touch me, but he shall learn that duelling in France is not child's play. I will tire him until he realizes that, and then disarm him; and my sense of honor will be satisfied when he finds his ridicule recoils upon himself."

"And if he wound you?"

He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

"Then I will apologize to him, and grant my swordsmanship is but a sport for children."

"May I speak with your prisoner?"

"With my guest, madame."

"As you will. Then with your guest."

He bowed, and he and his friend drew back as I walked towards the English Amba.s.sador.

"Paris is more than anxious concerning you, Sir Edward."

"If Paris meant yourself, madame," he responded, "I could bless my imprisonment."

"Then you call it imprisonment?"

"Englishmen have a manner of calling things by their right names," he suavely observed.

"And you propose to--"

"Fight," he drawled. "I really don't care about it, but there's a medium in all things, you know. Not but what he's been most obliging. Except that I'm imprisoned till I give him what he calls satisfaction, I've been very comfortable. Even allowed, on my word of honor not to communicate the peculiar circ.u.mstances, to send my private despatches to England."

I shuddered as I thought of those despatches. Truth to tell, in the excitement of the situation, they and Monsieur Roche's distress had left my memory.

"But if you wound or kill him, Sir Edward?"

"I shall do neither."

"But, if he--" I paused, and Sir Edward gravely shook his head.

"Not the faintest chance in the world," he said. "I shall tire him out, and disarm him, thus abundantly proving my theory that these affairs of honor in France are arranged with the minimum of inconvenience to either party."

I could not repress a smile; there was such a wealth of humor in this duel, where neither party intended to injure the other.

"It is merely an exhibition of swordsmanship, Sir Edward?"

"Merely that, madame."

"Then I may remain?"

"It might be disconcerting to your friend."

"But if he permit?"

"Then to me it will be an honor."

But the Duke was less easy to win. It was impossible, unheard of, and yet, while he spoke he wavered, and graced his consent with a whisper that I was the Tournament's Queen.

"On guard, messieurs!"

Like a flash the swords crossed, and the duel commenced.

There was an uplifting of the eyebrows on the part of the Duke, as the trick which had disarmed many an opponent was skilfully met, a tightening of the lips by Sir Edward as a similar attempt of his own was as easily frustrated.

It was a duel that set my blood tingling with excitement, as pa.s.s after pa.s.s was parried, thrust after thrust was turned aside, and neither man gained a point, neither man lost an inch, until it seemed that equals had met, and who was victor would never be determined; that to be vanquished would be almost as great an honor as to vanquish.

The Duke slipped as he parried a thrust, and I thought that the unexpected had happened; but, like lightning, the Englishman's rapier was drawn back, and his adversary acknowledged the courtesy and skill which had saved his life with a bow worthy of himself.

An hour pa.s.sed, and still the combat waged. I wearied of the eternal "On guard, messieurs!" It seemed so fruitless that two such masters of fence should strive for empty victory.