Such was the discipline of the Grey Musketeers—a discipline they were never tired of extolling, and believed to be unequalled in the whole of the armies of Europe. There was little room for fault-finding in the order or accoutrements of such troops, and in a short space of time—easily calculated by the bystanders outside, from the arrival of sundry riding-horses and carriages of these gentlemen privates to throng the street—their inspection was over—their ranks were closed. The duties for the day, comprising an especial guard for the young king’s person were told off—Bras-de-Fer reported the death of the fencing-master—the commandant observed they must appoint another immediately—the parade was dismissed, and Captain George was at liberty to return to his quarters. CHAPTER IX EUGÈNE BEAUDÉSIR It was no wonder the Marquise de Montmirail, amid the hurry and excitement of a stag-hunt, failed to recognise the merry page who used to play with her child in that stalwart musketeer whom she pressed her eager barb so hard to overtake. The George Hamilton of royal ante-chambers and palace stairs, with eyes full of mirth and pockets full of bon-bons, laughing, skipping, agile, and mischievous as a monkey, had grown into a strong, fine-looking man, a distinguished soldier, well known in the army and at Court as Captain George of the Grey Musketeers. He had dropped the surname of Hamilton altogether now, and nothing remained to him of his nationality and family characteristics but a certain depth of chest and squareness of shoulder, accompanied by the bold keen glance that had shone even in the boy’s eyes, and was not quenched in the man’s, denoting a defiant and reckless disposition which, for a woman like the Marquise, possessed some indescribable charm.