Briggs passed on a note to me, signed with this star-shaped flower, begging me, as a man of some position, to use my influence to help the Duc de Chalis and his sons begin anew in England and to pardon the slight deception in the name of freedom and humanity! What is more, I have learned that the moment that our new arrivals here set foot on English soil, a note, signed with that very star-shaped flower, had been delivered to Citizen Fouquier-Tinville, the public prosecutor, informing him that the guillotine had been cheated of three victims and that this was only the beginning!”
There was spontaneous applause at this and it took some time for the tumult to die down before Dewhurst could continue.
“Well, needless to say, my friends, not only was I astounded at the daring of this adventurer who is unknown to me, but I was humbled by his dedication to the principles that we all, as Englishmen, hold to be so dear. This Scarlet Pimpernel, as he calls himself, is a sterling example to us all. I know not who he is, nor do I know why he has chosen to cloak himself in secrecy, but I do know this: I am proud that, in some small measure, I was able to assist him. I have instructed Briggs that in the event he should be approached once more in a similar regard, he is to return in full the fee paid for the hiring of the Day Dream and make the boat available at any time for this Scarlet Pimpernel, to use as he sees fit, with my most sincere compliments, for further daring rescues! Ffoulkes, here, has consented to join me in doing everything in my power to make those rescued by this gallant at home in England and I urge all of you here this night to join me in a toast to this courageous man and to lend him your support! Gentlemen,” he said, raising his glass high, “I give you the Scarlet Pimpernel!”
They all rose as one, with their glasses held aloft, and echoed the toast.
“The Scarlet Pimpernel!”
God damn, thought Finn. Too bad we can’t recruit this character into the corps. He’d be a natural. They all drank the toast and sat back down to engage in animated discussion and interrogation of the Duc de Chalis. The remainder of the evening was taken up with speculation concerning the Scarlet Pimpernel. Dewhurst and de Chalis could not have played their roles any better. The unknown Englishman had instantly captured everyone’s imagination.
After dinner, many of the guests went dancing in the ballroom, but a large group of gentlemen congregated in the parlor, there to smoke their pipes and sample the bottled fruit of Blakeney’s cellar while they discussed what went on across the Channel and, in particular, the involvement of the unknown Englishman in the rescue of French aristocrats.
Edmund Burke took advantage of the situation to launch into a heady polemic concerning his opinions on the revolt in France. Finn lit up his pipe and sidled up to Dewhurst speaking not quite quietly enough to avoid being overheard.
“What’s he on about, I wonder?” he said, in a somewhat bored tone.
Sheridan, who had regained consciousness and, though unsteady on his feet, seemed intent on draining Blakeney’s cellar dry, heard him and lurched over to them.
“He’s on about the Revolution once again,” he said unevenly.
“I’ve heard this dreary song before in Parliament. Though he seems to have committed it to memory, it doesn’t get much better with repeat performances.”
Burke, meanwhile, was gaining steam in his diatribe against the leaders of the Republic.
“It is right that these men should hide their heads,” he said, vehemently. “It is right that they should bear their part in the ruin which their counsel has brought on their sovereign and their country. They have seen the medicine of the state corrupted into its poison! They have seen the French rebel against a mild and lawful monarch! Their resistance was made to concession; their revolt from protection; their blow aimed at a hand holding out graces, favors, and immunities!”
Sheridan belched loudly and Burke shot him a venomous look.
“I say, Burke,” said Finn, “that was a most torrential outburst. I am truly awed by the fervor of your oratory. Would that I could speak with such a passion. Is there, then, no hope for France at all?”
“None, if they continue on their present course,” said Burke, grasping his lapels and puffing himself up. “People will not look forward to posterity who never look backward to their ancestors.”
“True, true,” said Finn, putting on a thoughtful look. “If we English look backward to our ancestors, we will find them running about with their arses hanging out and painted blue. Faith and we’ve come a long way since then, eh, what? What with such humble beginnings, think what posterity lies ahead for us!”
For a moment, there was total silence as everyone stared at him uncertainly. Burke looked totally bewildered, but a smile began to twitch at the corner of Sheridan’s mouth and the playwright hid it with his hand.
“France, my dear Blakeney,” Burke said, in an effort to get things back on track, “has bought poverty by crime. You’ve just returned from Paris, surely you must agree that France has not sacrificed her virtue to her interest, but rather she has abandoned her interest that she might prostitute her virtue.”
“Odd’s life, that may well be,” said Finn. “I’ve had my estate in Rouen seized for the purposes of securing needed revenue for the new French government. A bad business for me, I’m afraid, though an advantageous one for them. It might well be in France’s interest to prostitute her virtue if she makes such gains by it. I’ve known not a few demimondaines who have rebuilt their crumbling virtue in a like manner.”
Sheridan started coughing, but Burke seemed totally at sea. He gazed at Finn in complete astonishment.
“As for this Pimpernel fellow whom everyone seems so concerned about,” Finn continued blithely, “I cannot flaw him for his boldness or idealism, but given all the bloodletting being done across the water, rescuing one or two aristocrats would seem like pissing in the wind, no? Still, I do wish the fellow well and I only hope that the French navy does not learn of Dewhurst’s part in all of this, else they might well try to sink his newly purchased boat. Though, in truth, I doubt that they have any craft that would be capable of catching her.”
“As for that,” said Dewhurst, with a grin, “if the French did sink the Day Dream, it would relieve me of the expense of maintaining her! However, you’re quite right, Percy, there is a certain amount of risk in lending aid to this Scarlet Pimpernel. Yet, any risk I may incur is nothing compared to the risks that he must take. I admit that there might be some risk for me, but what is life without an element of risk? Nothing but mere existence. If you ask me, gentlemen, this Pimpernel fellow is a true sportsman! I can think of nothing quite so game as playing leapfrog with the French and thumbing your nose at Danton, Robespierre, and the entire bunch of them!”
“There is much more than sport involved in this affair, young Dewhurst,” Burke said, stiffly. “We cannot afford to merely thumb our noses at the French. This Revolution of theirs is a plague and the precautions of the most severe quarantine ought to be established against it!”
“Begad, that was well said,” said Finn. “You know, Burke, someone told me tonight that when you rise to speak in Parliament, your fellow members are moved to go out to dinner. I can well see why, since such passionate invective must do a great deal to stimulate the juices! It is fortunate for us, gentlemen, that we’ve already eaten. As it is, such fine speech ought to do great wonders for our digestion.”
There were chuckles at Finn’s remarks, though they were quickly stifled. Burke had gone red in the face, but Finn had a look of such guileless stupidity upon his face that the politician could think of no way to reply. Out of the corner of his eye, Finn could see that Sheridan was biting on his finger in an effort to keep from laughing. Later on, the playwright drew him to one side, in a corner somewhat removed from all the general discussion.
“See here, Blakeney,” Sheridan said, speaking thickly and swaying from side to side, “I have not yet quite decided what to make of you. You seem to be a male Mrs. Malaprop at times, and yet I see a bit of Swift in you, I think. You seem to be laughing up your sleeve.”
Finn affected a look of puzzlement. “I’m not at all sure what you mean, old fellow. Truthfully, I’d never laugh at any guests of mine, though I must admit that your rendition of the dying swan at dinner was a bit amusing. I’m afraid that I don’t get your meaning.”
Sheridan stared at him for a moment. “I think you do Blakeney. Yes, I think you do. I don’t know if you pricked Burke on purpose or if it was just a happy circumstance of all your rambling babble, but you’ve roused my curiosity. Tell me, what is your real feeling concerning the revolt in France and this Scarlet Pimple or whatever his name is?”
“My real feeling?” Finn said, raising his eyebrows. “Begad, my real feeling is that I’m glad to be out of it! The climate in Paris is decidedly unhealthy at this time of year. I’m happy that de Chalis has seen fit to seek a change of weather. Doubtless he will live longer. As for any others who choose to follow his example, I can only wish them bon voyage and hope that they encounter no difficulties in making their travel plans.”
