The Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"Grant, James
General
The Phantom Regiment; or, Stories of "Ours"
Grant, James
Adventure stories; British -- Foreign countries -- Fiction; Soldiers -- Fiction
"To Amientieres on the Lys," exclaimed the Frenchman, seizing the
hands of the Major as the latter paused again; "to Armentieres, ten
miles west of Lisle, and there you left them, after adding to your
generosity by bestowing sufficient to inter his brother in the
Protestant church of that town, and to convey himself to his native
France. Oh! Monsieur, I am that Frenchman, and here, from my heart,
from my soul, I thank you," and half kneeling, the stranger kissed
the hand of the Major.
"You!" exclaimed the latter; "by Jove I am right glad to see you.
Here at Crail, too, in the East Neuk o' Fife--'t is a strange chance;
and what in heaven's name seek ye here? 'T is a perilous time for a
foreigner--still more, a Frenchman, to tread on Scottish ground. The
war, the intrigues with St. Germains, the Popish plots, and the devil
only knows what more, make travelling here more than a little
dangerous."
"Monsieur, I know all that; the days are changed since the Scot was
at home in France, and the Frenchman at home in Scotland, for so the
old laws of Stuart and Bourbon made them. A few words will tell who
I am, and what I seek here. Excuse my reluctance to reveal myself
before, for now you have a claim upon me. Oh! believe me, I knew not
that I addressed the generous chevalier who, in that hour of despair,
redeemed my life (and more than my life), my honour, from the
scourge, and enabled me to lay the head of my poor brother with
reverence in the grave. You have heard of M. Henri Lemercier?"
"What! the great swordsman and fencer--that noble master of the
science of defence, with the fame of whose skill and valour all
Europe is ringing?"
"I am he of whom Monsieur is pleased to speak so highly."
"Your hand again, sir; zounds; but I dearly love this gallant science
myself, and have even won me a little name as a handler of the
rapier. There is but one man whom Europe calls your equal, Monsieur
Lemercier."
"My superior, you mean, for I have many equals," replied the
Frenchman, modestly. "You, doubtless, mean----"
"Sir William Hope, of Hopetoun."
"Ah! Mon Dieu, yes, he has indeed a great name in Europe as a fencer
and master of arms, either with double or single falchion, case of
falchions, back-sword and dagger, pistol or quarter staff; and it is
the fame of his skill and prowess in these weapons, and the
reputation he has earned by his books on fencing, that hath brought
me to-day to this remote part of Scotland."
"Zounds!" said the Major, shaking back the long powdered curls of his
Ramilies wig, and looking remarkably grave; "you cannot mean to have
a bout with Sir William. He hath a sure hand and a steady eye; I
would rather stand a platoon than be once covered by his pistol."
"Monsieur, I have no enmity to this Sir William Hope, nor am I
envious of his great name as a fencer. Ma foi! the world is quite
wide enough for us both; but here lies my secret. I love
Mademoiselle Athalie, the niece of Madame de Livry----"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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