“Very well, monsieur,” he said.
“Nine o’clock, then; and we’ll see
if you’ll talk as pertly afterwards.”
On that he flung away, before the jeers of the provincial
deputies. Nor did it soothe his rage to be laughed
at by urchins all the way down the Rue Dauphine because
of the mud and filth that dripped from his satin breeches
and the tails of his elegant, striped coat.
But though the members of the Third had jeered on
the surface, they trembled underneath with fear and
indignation. It was too much. Lagron killed
by one of these bullies, and now his successor challenged,
and about to be killed by another of them on the very
first day of his appearance to take the dead man’s
place. Several came now to implore Andre-Louis
not to go to the Bois, to ignore the challenge and
the whole affair, which was but a deliberate attempt
to put him out of the way. He listened seriously,
shook his head gloomily, and promised at last to think
it over.
He was in his seat again for the afternoon session
as if nothing disturbed him.
But in the morning, when the Assembly met, his place
was vacant, and so was M. de Chabrillane’s.
Gloom and resentment sat upon the members of the
Third, and brought a more than usually acrid note
into their debates. They disapproved of the rashness
of the new recruit to their body. Some openly
condemned his lack of circumspection. Very few
— and those only the little group in Le Chapelier’s
confidence — ever expected to see him again.
It was, therefore, as much in amazement as in relief
that at a few minutes after ten they saw him enter,
calm, composed, and bland, and thread his way to his
seat. The speaker occupying the rostrum at that
moment — a member of the Privileged — stopped
short to stare in incredulous dismay. Here was
something that he could not understand at all.
Then from somewhere, to satisfy the amazement on
both sides of the assembly, a voice explained the phenomenon
contemptuously.
“They haven’t met. He has shirked
it at the last moment.”
It must be so, thought all; the mystification ceased,
and men were settling back into their seats.
But now, having reached his place, having heard the
voice that explained the matter to the universal satisfaction,
Andre-Louis paused before taking his seat. He
felt it incumbent upon him to reveal the true fact.
“M. le President, my excuses for my late arrival.”
There was no necessity for this. It was a mere
piece of theatricality, such as it was not in Scaramouche’s
nature to forgo. “I have been detained
by an engagement of a pressing nature. I bring
you also the excuses of M. de Chabrillane. He,
unfortunately, will be permanently absent from this
Assembly in future.”
The silence was complete. Andre-Louis sat down.
THE PALADIN OF THE THIRD
