The Cornet of Horse: A Tale of Marlborough's Wars by G. A. Henty (polar express read aloud .TXT) 📖

so then I try another, but it is always with the same result."

"You are all very cruel," the Duc de Carolan laughed. "And you, Mademoiselle de Pignerolles? But I know what you will say, you have never seen anyone worth loving."

Adele did not answer; but her laughing friends insisted that as they had confessed their inmost thoughts, she ought to do the same.

For a moment she looked serious, then she laughed, and again put on a demure air.

"Yes," said she, "I have had a grande passion, but it came to nothing."

A murmur of "Impossible!" ran round the circle.

"It was nearly four years ago," she said.

"Oh, nonsense, Adele, you were a child four years ago," one of her companions said.

"Of course I was a child," Adele said, "but I suppose children can love, and I loved an English boy."

"Oh, oh, mademoiselle, an English boy!" and other amused cries ran round the circle.

"And did he love you, mademoiselle?" the Duc de Carolan asked.

"Oh, dear no," the girl answered. "I don't suppose I should have loved him if he had. But he was strong, and gentle, and brave, and he was nearly four years older than I was, and he always treated me with respect. Oh, yes, I loved him."

"He must have been the most insensible of boys," the Duc de Carolan said; "but no doubt he was very good and gentle, this youthful islander; but how do you know that he was brave?"

The sneering tone with which the duke spoke was clearly resented by Adele, for her cheek flushed, and she spoke with an earnestness quite different from the half-laughing tone she had hitherto spoken in.

"I know that he was brave, Monsieur le Duc, because he fought with, and ran through the body, a man who insulted me."

The girl spoke so earnestly that for a moment a hush fell upon the little group; and the Duc de Carolan, who clearly resented the warm tone in which she spoke, said:

"Quite a hero of romance, mademoiselle. This unfortunate who incurred your Paladin's indignation was clearly more insolent than skillful, or Sir Amadis of sixteen could hardly have prevailed against the dragon."

This time Adele de Pignerolles was seriously angry:

"Monsieur le Duc de Carolan," she said quietly, "you have honoured me by professing some admiration of my poor person, and methinks that good taste would have demanded that you would have feigned, at least, some interest in the boy who championed my cause. I was wrong, even in merry jest, to touch on such a subject, but I thought that as French gentlemen you would understand that I was half serious, half jesting at myself for this girlish love of mine. He is not here to defend himself against your uncourteous remarks; but, Monsieur le Duc, allow me to inform you that the fact that the person who insulted me paid for it almost with his life was no proof of his great want of skill, for monsieur my father will inform you, if you care to ask him, that had you stood opposite to my boy hero, the result would probably have been exactly the same; for, as I have often heard him say that this boy was fully a match for himself; I imagine that the chance of a nobleman who, with all his merits, has not, so far as I have heard, any great pretensions to special skill with his sword, would be slight indeed."

The duke, with an air of bitter mortification on his face, bowed before the indignant tone in which Adele spoke; and as the little circle broke up, the rumour ran round the room that L'Anglaise had snubbed the Duc de Carolan in a crushing manner.

Scarcely had the duke, with a few murmured excuses, withdrawn from the group, than the marquis advanced towards his daughter with a tall figure by his side.

"Adele," he said, "allow me to introduce to you the English officer whose own unlucky fate threw him into my hands. He desires to have the honour of your acquaintance. You may remember his name, for his family lived in the county in which we passed some time. Lieutenant Rupert Holliday, of the English dragoons."

Adele had not looked up as her father spoke. As he crossed the room towards her she had glanced towards his companion, whose dress showed him to be the English officer who was, as she knew, with him; but something in her father's tone of voice, still more the sentences with which he introduced the name, warned her that this was the surprise of which he had spoken, and the name, when it came at last, was almost expected. Had it not been for the manner in which she had just been speaking, and the vague wonder that flashed through her mind whether he could have heard her, she could have met Rupert, with such warning as she had had, as a perfect stranger. What she had said was perfectly true, that as a child he had been her hero; but a young girl's heroes seldom withstand the ordeal of a four years' absence, and Adele was no exception. Rupert had gone out of her existence, and she had not thought of him, beyond an occasional feeling of wonder whether he was alive, for years; and had it not been for that unlucky speech--which, indeed, she could not have made had any of her girlish feeling remained, she could have met him as frankly and cordially as in the days when they danced together.

In spite, therefore, of her efforts, it was with a heightened colour that, as demanded by etiquette, Adele rose, and making a deep reverence in return to the even deeper bow of Rupert, extended her hand, which, taking the tips of the fingers, Rupert bent over and kissed. Then, looking up in her face, he said:

"The marquis your father has encouraged me to hope that you will take pity upon a poor prisoner, and forget and forgive his having fought against your compatriots."

Adele adroitly took up the line thus offered to her, and was soon deep in a laughing contest with him as to the merits of their respective countries, and above all as to his opinion of French beauty. Rupert answered in the exaggerated compliments characteristic of the time. After talking with her for some little time he withdrew, saying that he should have the honour of calling upon the following day with her father.

The next day when they arrived Rupert was greeted with a frank smile of welcome.

"I am indeed glad to see you again, Monsieur Rupert; but tell me why was that little farce of pretending that we were strangers, played yesterday?"

"It was my doing, Adele," her father said. "You know what the king is. If he were aware that Rupert were an old friend of ours he would imagine all sorts of things."

"What sort of things, papa?"

"To begin with, that Monsieur Rupert had come to carry you off from the various noblemen, for one or other of whom his Majesty destines your hand."

The girl coloured.

"What nonsense!

"However," she went on, "it would anyhow make no difference so far as the king is concerned, for I am quite determined that I will go into a convent and let all my lands go to whomsoever his Majesty may think fit to give them rather than marry any one I don't care for. I couldn't do it even to please you, papa, so you may be quite sure I couldn't do it to please the king.

"And now let me look at you, Monsieur Rupert. I talked to you last night, but I did not fairly look at you. Yes, you are really very little altered except that you have grown into a man: but I should have known you anywhere. Now, would you have known me?"

"Not if I had met you in the street," Rupert said. "When I talk to you, and look at you closely, Mademoiselle Adele Dessin comes back again; but at a casual glance you are simply Mademoiselle Adele de Pignerolles."

"I wish I were Adele Dessin again," she said. "I should be a thousand times happier living with my father than in this artificial court, where no one is what they seem to be; where everyone considers it his duty to say complimentary things; where everyone seems to be gay and happy, but everyone is as much slaves as if they wore chains. I break out sometimes, and astonish them."

A slight smile passed over Rupert's face; and Adele knew that he had overheard her the evening before. The girl flushed hotly. Her father and Madame de Soissons were talking together in a deep bay window at the end of the room.

"So you heard me last night, Monsieur Rupert. Well, there is nothing to be ashamed of. You were my hero when I was a child; I don't mind saying so now. If you had made me your heroine it would have been different, but you never did, one bit. Now don't try to tell stories. I should find you out in a moment; I am accustomed to hear falsehoods all day."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of, mademoiselle. Every one must have a hero, and I was the only boy you knew. No one could have misunderstood you; and even to those artificial fops who were standing round you, there seemed nothing strange or unmaidenly in your avowal that when you were a little girl you made a hero of a boy. You are quite right, I did not make a heroine of you. Boys, I think, always make heroines of women much older than themselves. I looked upon you as a dear, bright little girl, whom I would have cared for and protected as I would my favourite dog. Some boys are given to heroine worship. I don't think that is my line. I am only just getting out of my boyhood now, and I have never had a heroine at all."

So they sat and chatted, easily and pleasantly, as if four years had been rolled back, and they were boy and girl again in the garden of Windthorpe Chace.

"I suppose I shall see you every evening at the court?" Rupert said.

"I suppose so," the girl sighed. "But it will be much more pleasant here. You will come with papa, won't you?"

"Whenever he will be good enough to bring me," Rupert said.

"You remember what I told you about Adele," the marquis said, as they walked back to their rooms in the palace.

"Surely, sir," Rupert replied.

"I think it would be as well, both for her sake and your own, that you should not frequent her society in public, Rupert. His Majesty intends to give her hand to one of the half-dozen of his courtiers who are at present intriguing for it. Happily, as she is little over sixteen, although marriages here are often made at that age, the question does not press; and I trust that he will not decide for a year, or even longer. But if you were to be seen much at her side, it might be considered that you were a possible rival, and you might, if the king thought that there was the slightest risk of your interfering with his plans, find yourself shut up in the Bastille, or at Loches, or some other of the fortress dungeons, and Adele might be ordered to give her hand at once to the man he selected for her.

"There is hope in time. Adele may in time really come to love one of her suitors, and if he were one of those whom the king would like to favour, he would probably consent to the match. Then, the king may die. It is treason even to suppose such a thing possible; still he is but mortal; or something else may occur to change the course of the future.

"Of one thing I have decided: I will not see Adele sacrificed. I have for the last four years managed to transmit a considerable portion of the revenues of my estates to the hands of a banker in Holland; and if needs be I will again become an exile with her, and wait patiently until some less absolute monarch mounts the throne."

It was not so easy, however, to silence the mouths of the gossips of Versailles as the Marquis de Pignerolles had hoped. It was true that Rupert was seldom seen by the side of Adele in the drawing room of the palace, but it was soon noticed that he called regularly every morning with the marquis at Madame de Soissons', and that, however long the visits of the marquis might be, the young English officer remained until he left.

Adele's English bringing up, and her avowed liking for things English, were remembered; and the Duc de Carolan, and the other aspirants to Adele's hand, began to scowl angrily at the young Englishman whenever they met him.

Upon the other hand, among