Algeria -- Fiction; British -- Algeria -- Fiction; France. Armée. Légion étrangère -- Fiction; Love stories
“Damnation! Cecil, can't you hear me! A hound has brought against you
the vilest charge that ever swindlers framed: an infamy that he deserves
to be shot for, as if he were a dog. He makes me stand before you as if
I were your accuser; as if I doubted you; as if I lent an ear one second
to this loathsome lie. I sent for you to confront him, and to give him
up to the law. Stand out, you scoundrel, and let us see how you dare
look at us now!”
He swung round at the last words, and signed to Baroni to rise from the
couch were he sat. The Jew advanced slowly, softly.
“If your lordship will pardon me, you have scarcely made it apparent
what the matter is for which the gentleman is wanted. You have scarcely
explained to him that it is on a charge of forgery.”
The Seraph's eyes flashed on him with a light like a lion's, and his
right hand clinched hard.
“By my life! If you say that word again you shall be flung in the street
like the cur you are, let me pay what I will for it! Cecil, why don't
you speak?”
Bertie had not moved; not a breath escaped his lips. He stood like a
statue, deadly pale in the gaslight; when the figure of Baroni rose
up and came before him, a great darkness stole on his face--it was a
terrible bitterness, a great horror, a loathing disgust; but it was
scarcely criminality, and it was not fear. Still he stood perfectly
silent--a guilty man, any other than his loyal friend would have said:
guilty, and confronted with a just accuser. The Seraph saw that look,
and a deadly chill passed over him, as it had done at the Jew's first
charge--not doubt; such heresy to his creeds, such shame to his
comrade and his corps could not be in him; but a vague dread hushed his
impetuous vehemence. The dignity of the old Lyonnesse blood asserted its
ascendency.
“M. Baroni, make your statement. Later on Mr. Cecil can avenge it.”
Cecil never moved; once his eyes went to Rockingham with a look of
yearning, grateful, unendurable pain; but it was repressed instantly; a
perfect passiveness was on him. The Jew smiled.
“My statement is easily made, and will not be so new to this gentleman
as it was to your lordship. I simply charge the Honorable Bertie Cecil
with having negotiated a bill with my firm for 750 pounds on the 15th of
last month, drawn in his own favor, and accepted at two months' date
by your lordship. Your signature you, my Lord Marquis, admit to be a
forgery--with that forgery I charge your friend!”
“The 15th!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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