Cerise: A Tale of the Last CenturyWhyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
General
Cerise: A Tale of the Last Century
Whyte-Melville, G. J. (George John)
Historical fiction
The Captain smiled. “You have a good right to ask,” said he, “since, but
for you, I should not have been here at this moment. When I drew on the
Regent that night, as I would have drawn on the young King himself had
I seen him guilty of such an outrage, I was, as you know, surrounded
and attacked by an escort of my own men. I tell you, Beaudésir, I never
expected to leave the gardens alive, and I do not believe there is
another fencer in France who could have helped me out of so awkward a
scrape. I was sorry to see our old Bras-de-Fer go down, I admit; but
what would you have? When it’s give and take, thrust and parry, ten
against two, one cannot stand on these little delicacies of feeling. As I
vanished through the garden-gate I looked for you everywhere, but there
was no time to lose, and I thought we could escape more easily separate
than in company. I knew you were neither down nor taken, because there
was no shout of triumph from the men to announce the fact. The Prince du
Chateau-Guerrand, my old general, was standing at the door of his coach
when I gained the street. How he came there I am at a loss to guess, for
you may believe I asked no questions; but that you and he should have
dropped from the clouds at the Hôtel Montmirail, in the moment of my
need, is one of those happy strokes of accident by which battles are won,
and which we call fortune of war. I thought him a martinet when I was on
his staff, with his everlasting parades, and reports, and correspondence,
to say nothing of his interminable stories about Turenne, but I always
knew his heart was in the right place. ‘Jump in!’ said he, catching me by
the arm. ‘Drive those English horses to death, and take the coach where
you will!’ In five minutes we were out of Paris, and half a league off on
our way to the coast.
“I hope the English horses may have survived the journey, but they
brought me to my first relay as fast as ever I went in the saddle, and I
knew that with half an hour’s start of everything I was safe. Who was to
question a Captain of King’s Musketeers riding post for England on the
Regent’s business? The relays were even so good that I had time to stop
and breakfast comfortably, at leisure, and to feed my horse, half-way
through the longest stage.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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