Marguerite (The Scarlet Pimpernel)

01V.

02MARGUERITE In a moment the pleasant, oak-rafted coffee-room of the inn became the scene of hopeless confusion and discomfort.

03At the first announcement made by the stable-boy, Lord Antony, with a fashionable oath, had jumped up from his seat, and was now giving many and confused directions to poor bewildered Jellyband, who seemed at his wits end what to do.

04For goodness sake, man!

05admonished his lordship.

06Try to keep Lady Blakeney talking outside for a moment while the ladies withdraw.

07Sounds, he added, with another more emphatic oath.

08This is most unfortunate.

09Quick, sally, the candles!

10shouted Jellyband, as hopping about from one leg to another, he ran hither and thither, adding to the general discomfort of everybody.

11The comtesse, too, had risen to her feet, rigid and erect, trying to hide her excitement beneath more becoming sang-froid.

12She repeated mechanically, I will not see her!

13I will not see her!

14Outside, the excitement attendant upon the arrival of very important guests grew apace.

15Good-day, Sir Percy!

16Good-day to your ladyship!

17Your servant, Sir Percy!

18was heard in one long, continued chorus, with alternate, more feeble tones of, Remember the poor blind man!

19Of your charity, lady and gentleman!

20Then, suddenly, a singularly sweet voice was heard through all the din.

21Let the poor man be, and give him some supper at my expense.

22The voice was low and musical, with a slight sing-song in it, and a faint sous-son of foreign intonation in the pronunciation of the consonants.

23Every one in the coffee-room heard it, and paused instinctively, listening to it for a moment.

24Sally was holding the candles by the opposite door, which led to the bedrooms upstairs, and the comtesse was in the act of beating a hasty retreat before that enemy who owned such a sweet, musical voice.

25Susanne reluctantly was preparing to follow her mother, while casting regretful glances towards the door, where she hoped still to see her dearly beloved erstwhile schoolfellow.

26Then Jellyband threw open the door, still stupidly and blindly hoping to avert the catastrophe which he felt was in the air, and the same low, musical voice said, with a merry laugh and mock consternation, "'I am as wet as a herring!

27Dear, has any one ever seen such a contemptible climate!' "'Suzanne, come with me at once.

28I wish it,' said the comtesse, peremptorily.

29"'Oh, Mama!' pleaded Susanne.

30"'My lady, uh—my lady!' came in feeble accents from Jellyband, who stood clumsily trying to bar the way.

31"'Bardieu, my good man,' said Lady Blakeney, with some impatience.

32"'What are you standing in my way for, dancing about like a turkey with a sore foot?

33Let me get to the fire!

34I am perished with the cold!' And the next moment Lady Blakeney, gently pushing mine host on one side, had swept into the coffee-room.

35There are many portraits and miniatures extant of Marguerite St.

36Juste, Lady Blakeney as she was then, but it is doubtful if any of these really do her singular beauty justice.

37Tall, above the average, with magnificent presence and regal figure, it is small wonder that even the comtesse paused for a moment in involuntary admiration, before turning her back on so fascinating an apparition.

38Marguerite Blakeney was then scarcely five-and-twenty, and her beauty was at its most dazzling stage.

39The large hat, with its undulating and waving plumes, threw a soft shadow across the classic brow, with the aurule of auburn hair, free at the moment from any powder.

40The sweet, almost childlike mouth, the straight, chiselled nose, round chin, and delicate throat, all seemed set off by the picturesque costume of the period.

41The rich blue velvet robe moulded in its every line the graceful contour of the figure, whilst one tiny hand held, with a dignity all its own, the tall stick adorned with a large bunch of ribbons which fashionable ladies of the period had taken to carrying recently.

42With a quick glance all round the room, Marguerite Blakeney had taken stock of every one there.

43She nodded pleasantly to Sir Andrew Foulkes, whilst extending a hand to Lord Antony.

44"'Hullo, my Lord Tony!

45Why, what are you doing here in Dover?' she said merrily.

46Then, without waiting for a reply, she turned and faced the comtesse and Suzanne.

47Her whole face lighted up with additional brightness, as she stretched out both arms toward the young girl.

48"'Why, if it isn't my little Suzanne over there!

49B'rdieu, little citizeness!

50How came you to be in England?

51And Madame, too!' She went up effusive to them both, with not a single touch of embarrassment in her manner or in her smile.

52Lord Tony and Sir Andrew watched the little scene with eager apprehension.

53English though they were, they had often been in France, and had mixed sufficiently with the French to realize the unbending odeur, the bitter hatred with which the old noblesse of France viewed all those who had helped to contribute to their downfall.

54Armand Saint-Just, the brother of beautiful Lady Blakeney, though known to hold moderate and conciliatory views, was an ardent Republican.

55His feud with the ancient family of Saint-Cyr, the rights and wrongs of which no outsider ever knew, had culminated in the downfall, the almost total extinction of the latter.

56In France, Saint-Just and his party had triumphed, and here in England, face to face with these three refugees driven from their country, flying for their lives, bereft of all which centuries of luxury had given them, there stood a fair scion of those same Republican families which had hurled down a throne, and uprooted an aristocracy whose origin was lost in the dim and distant vista of bygone centuries.

57She stood there before them, in all the unconscious insolence of beauty, and stretched out her dainty hand to them, as if she would, by that one act, bridge over the conflict and bloodshed of the past decade.

58"'Suzanne, I forbid you to speak to that woman,' said the comtesse sternly, as she placed a restraining hand upon her daughter's arm.

59She had spoken in English, so that all might hear and understand.

60The two young English gentlemen, as well as the common innkeeper and his daughter.

61The latter literally gasped with horror at this foreign insolence, this impudence before her ladyship, who was English, now that she was Sir Percy's wife, and a friend of the Princess of Wales, to boot.

62As for Lord Antony and Sir Andrew Foulkes, their very hearts seemed to stand still with horror at this gratuitous insult.

63One of them uttered an exclamation of appeal, the other one of warning, and instinctively both glanced hurriedly towards the door, whence a slow, droly, not unpleasant voice had already been heard.

64Alone among those present, Marguerite Blakeney and the comtesse de Tournai had remained seemingly unmoved.

65The latter, rigid, erect, and defiant, with one hand still upon her daughter's arm, seemed the very personification of unbending pride.

66For the moment, Marguerite's sweet face had become as white as the soft fichu which swathed her throat, and a very keen observer might have noted that the hand which held the tall, beribboned stick was clenched, and trembled somewhat.

67But this was only momentary.

68The next instant, the delicate eyebrows were raised slightly, the lips curved sarcastically upwards, the clear blue eyes looked straight at the rigid comtesse, and with a slight shrug of the shoulders.

69"'Hoyty-toity, citizeness,' she said gaily, "'what fly stings you, pray?' "'We are in England now, madame,' rejoined the comtesse coldly, "'and I am at liberty to forbid my daughter to touch your hand in friendship.

70"'Come, Suzanne,' she beckoned to her daughter.

71And without another look at Marguerite Blakeney, but with a deep, old-fashioned curtsy to the two young men, she sailed majestically out of the room.

72There was silence in the old inn parlour for a moment, as the rustle of the comtesse's skirts died away down the passage.

73Marguerite, rigid as a statue, followed with hard-set eyes the upright figure as it disappeared through the doorway.

74But as little Suzanne, humble and obedient, was about to follow her mother, the hard-set expression suddenly vanished, and a wistful, almost pathetic and childlike look stole into Lady Blakeney's eyes.

75Little Suzanne caught that look, the child's sweet nature went out to the beautiful woman, scarcely older than herself.

76Filial obedience vanished before girlish sympathy.

77At the door she turned, ran back to Marguerite, and putting her arms around her, kissed her effusively.

78Then only did she follow her mother, Sally bringing up the rear, with a final curtsy to my lady.

79Suzanne's sweet and dainty impulse had relieved the unpleasant tension.

80Sir Andrew's eyes followed the pretty little figure, until it had quite disappeared.

81Then they met Lady Blakeney's with unassumed merriment.

82Marguerite, with dainty affection, had kissed her hand to the ladies as they disappeared through the door.

83Then a humorous smile began hovering around the corners of her mouth.

84So that's it, is it?

85She said gaily.

86La, Sir Andrew, did you ever see such an unpleasant person?

87I hope when I grow old I shan't look like that.

88She gathered up her skirts, and, assuming a majestic gait, stalked towards the fireplace.

89Suzanne, she said, mimicking the comtesse's voice, I forbid you to speak to that woman.

90The laugh which accompanied this Sally sounded perhaps a trifle forced and hard.

91But neither Sir Andrew nor Lord Tony were very keen observers.

92The mimicry was so perfect, the tone of voice so accurately reproduced, that both the young men joined in a hearty, cheerful bravo.

93Ah, Lady Blakeney, added Lord Tony, how they must miss you at the Comédie Française, and how the Parisians must hate Sir Percy for having taken you away.

94Blood man!

95rejoined Marguerite, with a shrug of her graceful shoulders.

96Tis impossible to hate Sir Percy for anything.

97His witty sallies would disarm even Madame la Comtesse herself.

98The young Vicomte, who had not elected to follow his mother in her dignified exit, now made a step forward, ready to champion the Comtesse, should Lady Blakeney aim any further shafts at her.

99But before he could utter a preliminary word of protest, a pleasant though distinctly inane laugh was heard from outside, and the next moment, an unusually tall and very richly dressed figure appeared in the doorway.

100End of chapter 5