The Companions of Jehu. Dumas Alexandre
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whom he supposed to be either, M. de Barjols or one of his friends.
The door opened with a steady mechanical motion and the Englishman appeared upon the threshold.
“Ah!” exclaimed Roland, enchanted with this visit, in view of his general’s recommendation; “is it you?”
“Yes,” said the Englishman, “it is I.”
“You are welcome.”
“Oh! if I am welcome, so much the better! I was not sure that I ought to come.”
“Why not?”
“On account of Aboukir.”
Roland began to laugh.
“There are two battles of Aboukir,” said he; “one which we lost; the other we won.”
“I referred to the one you lost.”
“Good!” said Roland, “we fight, kill, and exterminate each other on the battlefield, but that does not prevent us from clasping hands on neutral ground. So I repeat, you are most welcome, especially if you will tell me why you have come.”
“Thank you; but, in the first place, read that.” And the Englishman drew a paper from his pocket.
“What is that?” asked Roland.
“My passport.”
“What have I to do with your passport?” asked Roland, “I am not a gendarme.”
“No, but I have come to offer you my services. Perhaps you will not accept them if you do not know who I am.”
“Your services, sir?”
“Yes; but read that first.”
Roland read:
In the name of the French Republic – The Executive Directory hereby orders that Sir John Tanlay, Esq., be permitted to travel freely throughout the territory of the Republic, and that both assistance and protection be accorded him in case of need.
(Signed) FOUCHÉ.
And below:
To whom it may concern – I recommend Sir John Tanlay particularly as a philanthropist and a friend of liberty.
(Signed) BARRAS.
“Have you read it?”
“Yes; what of it?”
“What of it? Well, my father, Lord Tanlay, rendered M. Barras some services; that is why M. Barras permits me to roam about France. And I am very glad to roam about; it amuses me very much.”
“Oh, I remember, Sir John; you did us the honor to say so at dinner.”
“I did say so, it is true; I also said that I liked the French people heartily.”
Roland bowed.
“And above all General Bonaparte,” continued Sir John.
“You like General Bonaparte very much?”
“I admire him; he is a great, a very great, man.”
“By Heavens! Sir John, I am sorry he is not here to hear an Englishman say that of him.”
“Oh! if he were here I should not say it.”
“Why not?”
“I should not want him to think I was trying to please him. I say so because it is my opinion.”
“I don’t doubt it, my lord,” said Roland, who did not see what the Englishman was aiming at, and who, having learned all that he wished to know through the passport, held himself upon his guard.
“And when I heard,” continued the Englishman with the same phlegm, “you defend General Bonaparte, I was much pleased.”
“Really?”
“Much pleased,” repeated the Englishman, nodding his head affirmatively.
“So much the better!”
“But when I saw you throw a plate at M. Alfred de Barjols’ head, I was much grieved.”
“You were grieved, my lord, and why?”
“Because in England no gentleman would throw a plate at the head of another gentleman.”
“My lord,” said Roland, rising with a frown, “have you perchance come here to read me a lecture?”
“Oh, no; I came to suggest that you are perhaps perplexed about finding a second?”
“My faith, Sir John! I admit that the moment when you knocked at the door I was wondering of whom I could ask this service.”
“Of me, if you wish,” said the Englishman. “I will be your second.”
“On my honor!” exclaimed Roland, “I accept with all my heart.”
“That is the service I wished to render you!”
Roland held out his hand, saying: “Thank you!”
The Englishman bowed.
“Now,” continued Roland, “as you have had the good taste, my lord, to tell me who you were before offering your services, it is but fair that, since I accept them, I should tell you who I am.”
“Oh! as you please.”
“My name is Louis de Montrevel; I am aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte.”
“Aide-de-camp to General Bonaparte. I am very glad.”
“That will explain why I undertook, rather too warmly perhaps, my general’s defence.”
“No, not too warmly; only, the plate – ”
“Oh, I know well that the provocation did not entail that plate. But what would you have me do! I held it in my hand, and, not knowing what to do with it, I threw it at M. de Barjols’ head; it went of itself without any will of mine.”
“You will not say that to him?”
“Reassure yourself; I tell you to salve your conscience.”
“Very well; then you will fight?”
“That is why I have remained here, at any rate.”
“What weapons?”
“That is not our affair, my lord.”
“What! not our affair?”
“No; M. de Barjols is the one insulted; the choice is his.”
“Then you will accept whatever he proposes?”
“Not I, Sir John, but you in my name, since you do me the honor to act as my second.”
“And if he selects pistols, what is the distance to be and how will you fight?”
“That is your affair, my lord, and not mine. I don’t know how you do in England, but in France the principals take no part in the arrangements. That duty devolves upon the seconds; what they decide is well decided!”
“Then my arrangements will be satisfactory?”
“Perfectly so, my lord.”
The Englishman bowed.
“What hour and what day?”
“Oh! as soon as possible; I have not seen my family for two years, and I confess that I am in a hurry to greet them.”
The Englishman looked at Roland with a certain wonder; he spoke with such assurance, as if he were certain that he would not be killed. Just then some one knocked at the door, and the voice of the innkeeper asked: “May I come in?”
The young man replied affirmatively. The door opened and the landlord entered, holding a card in his hand which he handed his guest. The young man took the card and read: “Charles du Valensolle.”
“From M. Alfred de Barjols,” said the host.
“Very well!” exclaimed Roland. Then handing the card to the Englishman, he said: