“The Vicomte de Laprade is right, my Lord,” said the officer who had recognized Gervase. “Gratitude is a most estimable virtue, and exceedingly rare. In return for his services perhaps your Lordship will pretermit the young gentleman´s drinking the health, and merely give him his dry quietus in the morning.”
“With you, sir,” said De Laprade coldly, “I have no dealings now nor at any future time. I ask you, my Lord, for this gentleman´s life. ´Tis the only return I am likely to receive, and indeed it is all I ask.”
“I regret, my dear Vicomte, that I am unable to do your will in this matter, but we must hold out a warning to others. However, as Butler has suggested, he need not dance to-night. Sergeant, you need not apply the thumbscrew. And for you, sir, you can make up your mind to set the example you hinted at. As it is, you may thank Viscount de Laprade that you have escaped a dram that was like to prove bitter enough, but had I had my own way, you should have had both the dram and the halter for a renegade deserter.”
“Am I then, my Lord Galmoy, to understand that you refuse to accede to my request? and that the gentleman in whom your Lordship sees I am so deeply interested must die in the morning?”
Galmoy nodded and motioned to the officer who sat nearest him to pass the wine.
“I know not,” De Laprade continued, drawing himself up haughtily, “whether it is because my sword and friendship are of so little value and are held in so slight esteem, that this simple favour is denied me, or because in this country gentlemen are deaf to the voice of expediency. But I know that the brave Luttrel, and a braver man never drew a sword, met his death because you, sir, have seen good to bring in the executioner where the soldier fails.”
“Bah! we will not quarrel, though I will not answer for my temper should you provoke me further. You do not understand these matters, but for my part I hold it a safe rule to let every country manage its own affairs according to its own customs. Damme, man, this is not the court of Versailles, but the country of Whiggery and pestilent traitors, where every Jack-pudding is up in arms against his king and master. In a few months you will have learned not to be so whimsical.”