M’sieu’ Amédé seemed very anxious to know what Mam’zelle Fleurette thought about all these marvellous adventures, but how could she tell him, how could she talk at all when every time she raised her blue eyes to him, he broke off in the midst of a most exciting narrative in order to ask her in a voice vibrating with passion: “Tu m’aimes Fleurette?”
XXXIX
Chauvelin, after he had seen Fleurette safely carried away in her lover’s arms, sat for awhile in the dark interior of the coach, staring into the gloom, his folded hands clasped between his knees. His thoughts were in such a whirl that it almost seemed as if he were unconscious. He certainly was insentient; he neither saw, nor heard, nor felt anything save the joy of knowing that his Fleurette was safe. It was only a few minutes—fifteen perhaps—later that a pleasant laugh broke in on his riotous thoughts, and that he became aware of a tall figure sitting beside him in the coach.
“You see, my dear M. Chambertin,” the voice which he dreaded most in all the world said suddenly in his ear, “I would not forego the pleasure of bidding you au revoir.”
Chauvelin half turned to his enemy, the man whom he had so persistently wronged, so persistently pursued with hatred and with spite. Through the gloom he could just see the outline of the massive figure, wrapped in a dark, caped coat, and of the proud head so nobly held above the firm, somewhat stiff neck.
Did all that this man stood for in the way of heroism and selflessness, strike a chord of shame in the heart of this callous, revolutionary tyrant? Who shall say? Certain it is that for the moment Chauvelin felt awed, and sat there in the gloom, silent, motionless, staring into the black vacancy. But after a second or two his lips uttered mechanically the name that was uppermost in his mind:
“Fleurette?”
“She is under my care,” Blakeney said slowly. “Tomorrow at break of day she and her sweetheart will set sail for England with some of my friends. There she will be under the care of the noblest woman in the world, Lady Blakeney, who will take her revenge on you for all the wrong you did her, by lavishing the treasures of her sympathy upon your child.”
“Then Fleurette will be happy?” Chauvelin murmured involuntarily.
“Happy, yes! she will soon forget.”
“Then I am ready, Sir Percy.”
“Ready? For what?”
“My life is at your service. My enemies are waiting for me over in Orange. You have but to send me back thither and your own vengeance will be complete.”
For a second or two after that there was silence in the old post-chaise; only Chauvelin’s laboured breathing broke the utter stillness of the gloom. Until suddenly a pleasant, mocking laugh struck upon his ear.
“Egad man, you are priceless,” quoth Sir Percy gaily. “You must indeed credit me with a total lack of the saving grace, if you think it would amuse me to hand you over to your genial friends over in Orange.”
“But I am at your mercy, sir.”
“As I and my beloved wife have been once or twice, eh? Well! I am hitting back now. That’s all.”
“Hitting back?” Chauvelin exclaimed. “You have the power now. I admit it. I am in your hands. My life is at your command.”
“La, man!” Sir Percy retorted lightly, “what should I do with your worthless life? For the moment all I want is to make that sweet child up there completely happy by telling her that you are safe and well. After that you may go to the devil for aught I care. You probably will.”
“Then,” Chauvelin murmured aghast, “you grant me my life, you—”
“I am sending you back safely as far as Nîmes. What happens to you after that I neither know nor care. You have tried to do me such an infinity of wrong at different times, you still hate me so cordially, you—”
He paused for a moment with firm lips tightly pressed together and slender hand clutched upon his knee.
“You are right there, Sir Percy,” Chauvelin murmured between his teeth. “God knows how I still hate you, even after this. You have the power to hit back. Why the devil don’t you do it?”
Whereupon Sir Percy threw back his head and his merry, infectious laugh woke the slumbering echoes of the sleepy little town.
“La, man,” he said, “you’re astonishing. Can’t you see that this is my way of hitting back?”
Colophon
Sir Percy Hits Back
was published in 1927 by
Baroness Orczy.
This ebook was produced for
Standard Ebooks
by
Vince Rice,
and is based on a transcription produced in 2014 by
Al Haines
for
Faded Page Canada
and on digital scans from the
Internet Archive.
The cover page is adapted from
Portrait de Madame Hamelin,
a painting completed in 1798 by
Andrea Appiani.
The cover and title pages feature the
League Spartan and Sorts Mill Goudy
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The League of Moveable Type.
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