“He shall never be a soldier,” Madam Dorothy broke out.

“That, madam,” the colonel said courteously, “will be for the lad himself and for circumstances to decide.  When I was his age there was nothing less likely than that I should be a soldier; but you see it came about.”

“Believe me, Madam,” Monsieur Dessin said deferentially, “it is good that your son should be a master of fence.  Not only may he at court be forced into quarrels, in which it will be necessary for him to defend his honour, but in all ways it benefits him.  Look at his figure; nature has given him health and strength, but fencing has given him that light, active carriage, the arm of steel, and a bearing which at his age is remarkable.  Fencing, too, gives a quickness, a readiness, and promptness of action which in itself is an admirable training.  Monsieur le colonel has been good enough to praise my fencing, and I may say that the praise is deserved.  There are few men in France who would willingly have crossed swords with me,” and now he spoke with a hauteur characteristic of a French noble rather than a fencing master.

Madam Holliday was silent; but just as she was about to speak again, a sound of horses’ hoofs were heard outside.  The silence continued until a domestic entered, and said that Sir William Brownlow and his son awaited madam’s pleasure in the drawing room.

A dark cloud passed over the old colonel’s face as Mistress Dorothy rose and, with a sweeping courtesy, left the room.

“Let us go into the garden, monsieur,” he said abruptly, “and see how your daughter is getting on.”

Adele was talking eagerly with Rupert, at a short distance from whom stood a lad some two years his senior, dressed in an attire that showed he was of inferior rank.  Hugh Parsons was in fact the son of the tenant of the home farm of the Chace, and had since Rupert’s childhood been his playmate, companion, and protector.

“Monsieur mon pere,” Adele said, dancing up to her father, and pausing for a moment to courtesy deeply to him and Colonel Holliday, “Monsieur Rupert is going out with his hawks after a heron that Hugh has seen in the pool a mile from here.  He has offered to take me on his pony, if you will give permission for me to go.”

“Certainly, you may go, Adele.  Monsieur Rupert will be careful of you, I am sure.”

“Yes, indeed,” Rupert said.  “I will be very careful.

“Hugh, see my pony saddled, and get the hawks.  I will run in for a cloth to lay over the saddle.”

In five minutes the pony was brought round, a cloth was laid over the saddle, and Rupert aided Adele to mount, with as much deference as if he had been assisting a princess.  Then he took the reins and walked by the pony’s head, while Hugh followed, with two hooded hawks upon his arm.

“They are a pretty pair,” Colonel Holliday said, looking after them.

“Yes,” Monsieur Dessin replied, but so shortly that the colonel looked at him with surprise.