Great Britain -- History -- Charles II, 1660-1685 -- Fiction
"I'm glad it was no worse," I whispered to him with a smile; then I
turned very sick, and the meadow started to go round and round me. For
some minutes I knew nothing more, but when I revived, the surgeon was
busy in binding up my arm, while the three gentlemen stood together in a
group a little way apart. My legs shook under me, and doubtless I was as
white as my mother's best linen, but I was well content, feeling that my
honour was safe, and that I had been as it were baptised of the company
of gentlemen. So Mr Jermyn seemed to think; for when my arm was dressed,
and I had got my clothes on again with some pain, and a silken sling
under my elbow, he came and craved the surgeon's leave to carry me off
to breakfast. The request was granted, on a promise that I would abstain
from inflaming food and from all strong liquors. Accordingly we set out,
I dissembling a certain surprise inspired in my countryman's mind by the
discovery that my late enemy proposed to be of the party. Having come to
a tavern in Drury Lane, we were regaled very pleasantly; Mr Jermyn, who
(although a small man, and not in my opinion well-shaped) might be seen
to hold himself in good esteem, recounting to us his adventures in love
and his exploits on the field of honour. Meanwhile, Lord Carford
treated me with distinguished courtesy, and I was at a loss to
understand his changed humour until it appeared that Darrell had
acquainted him with my resolution to surrender the commission that the
King had bestowed on me. As we grew more free with one another, his
lordship referred plainly to the matter, declaring that my conduct
showed the nicest honour, and praying me to allow his own surgeon to
visit me every day until my wound should be fully cured. His marked
politeness, and the friendliness of the others, put me in better humour
than I had been since the discovery of the evening before, and when our
meal was ended, about eleven o'clock, I was well-nigh reconciled to life
again. Yet it was not long before Carford and I were again good enemies,
and crossed swords with no less zest, although on a different field.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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