University of Virginia Library

35. CHAPTER XXXV
THE SEIGNEUR MORT-REYNARD TAKES HIS REVENGE UPON DON
MOUSTACHIO.

We shall follow Captain Ralph.

He was received by Mr. Lee with open arms, that gentleman
not having had for some days an opportunity to exchange
ideas with any one upon the various exciting political
topics which were beginning to agitate profoundly the minds

of all men in the colony of Virginia. The soldier was an
excellent outlet for the flood of communication which had
been dammed up for some time, and the old gentleman took
exclusive possession of him the moment he appeared; they
then talked uninterruptedly until dinner, when the Captain had
an opportunity for the first time to address a few observations
to the young ladies, and to Mr. Jack Hamilton, who had
“just dropped in,” as he expressed it, in passing. This
breathing space, however, did not last very long, and when
the stamp act, the navigation laws, and the meeting and
probable action of the House of Burgesses had been exhausted,
Captain Ralph was called on to discuss the various
events of the seven years' war, and to illustrate those events
by diagrams drawn as before, upon the table with a drop of
wine.

The Captain escaped finally to the ladies in the parlor,
whither Mr. Jack Hamilton followed him, and he tried to
converse with Henrietta. But he found it for some reason
very difficult; he could not extract from Miss Henrietta
much more than blushes and “yes's,” and “no's,” and he
finally gave up in despair, and took his leave with a decidedly
gloomy feeling. Looking as we do calmly upon the scene,
we may very easily discern the cause of Miss Henrietta's
blushes and constraint,—of the soldier's consequent gloom.
For the first time, he had grown blind.

Mr. Jack Hamilton followed the soldier, and they rode on
together. The Captain endeavored to return to his habitual
good-humor, and after a time succeeded in producing something
resembling a laugh.

“Ah, mon cher Seigneur Mort-Reynard!” he said, “it
seems to me, that you are practising finely all those beautiful
precepts which you enunciated in my hearing some days
since?”

“What precepts, my dear Don?” replied Mr. Hamilton.

“Why, your woman-avoiding doctrines.”

“Hum!” said Mr. Hamilton.

“It is really laughable,” continued the soldier, “to observe
how great the difference is between the preaching and
practising of human beings in this wicked and sinful world.
Now here are you, my dear Mort-Reynard, uttering the grandest
and most philosophical sentiments—sentiments which

cause your friends to regard you with a mixture of respect
and admiration, and basta! no sooner are our backs turned
than you go, morbleu! and practise just the reverse.”

“Hum: you think so?” observed Mr. Jack Hamilton,
“you are very keen-eyed, Don Moustachio. Come, how have
I erred?”

“How!”

“Yes, indeed.”

“Are you not making desperate love to Miss Clare, par
bleu—are you not going to change your bachelor condition?'

“Hum!”

“Answer!”

“Well, if I did.”

“Well, if you did, indeed! Egad! you will turn your
coat. Never have I heard such an enthusiastic tirade as
you uttered the other day. Oh, by heaven! you would not
fall into the snare! you would not be caught by a woman, a
pair of blue eyes, I think you said. We young and inexperienced
fellows might fall victims to the belle passion, but
you? Not the Seigneur Mort-Reynard, whose days were to
be sacred to the pursuit of foxes, and to the disappointment
of all individuals of the divine sex who laid traps for the
Seigneur Jean Reynard Hamilton! Ah, mon ami, you are
one more victim—you are an unfortunate specimen of the
trapped—the bamboozled—the defeated—the circumvented!
You will ever be to those who know you, parbleu! a shining
instance of the fallacy of all human calculations, of the overwhelming
powers of the sex—of the truth of your own declaration
that when a woman has once determined to marry
a man he need not resist—that there is no hope—that he
might as well go to the altar, like a lamb to the slaughter!”

And the Captain twirled his moustaches and laughed triumphantly.
He did not see the twinkle of mischief in the
Seigneur Mort-Reynard's eye;—he did not see the joyous
look, which indicated the power of revenging himself upon his
reviler.

“Well, well, my dear Don,” said Mr. Hamilton, “I confess
there is something in what you say.”

“You acknowledge it?'

“Yes, yes.”

“Poor fellow!”

“True, I am very unfortunate, but how could I resist
such a pair of eyes?” said Mr. Jack Hamilton, plaintively.

“Quite right,” replied the Captain, “they are much too
blue and bright.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Your favorite color.”

“Precisely.”

And Mr. Hamilton sighed.

“Don't take it too much to heart, mon cher,” said the
Captain, still laughing, “many a stalwart fellow has suffered
the same misfortune.”

“I know it, Captain.”

“No one can resist.”

“No one,” said Mr. Jack Hamilton, disconsolately; “and
even such a strong-hearted cavalier as yourself must not
think to entirely escape; you have not, I think.”

“I?”

“Yes, indeed.”

“You think I am trapped?”

“I do, indeed.”

“Madam Henrietta, you mean, perhaps!”

“Yes, my dear friend.”

“Hum, hum!” said the Captain, in his turn.

“Do not understand me as blaming you for falling a victim
to her brilliant eyes,” said Mr. Hamilton, “it is quite
natural.”

“It would be, I confess,” said the Captain, cautiously.

“Come, don't deny it.”

“Deny what, mon cher?”

“That you are over head and ears in love, my poor friend.”

The Captain uttered a sonorous “hem!” and said:

“Really, you are, I think, mistaken.”

“No, indeed.”

“I in love!”

“Yes, Don—desperately—profoundly; and there is only
one thing in your condition which makes me sorry for it, as
your friend. Her affections are engaged.”

“Engaged!” cried the Captain, betraying by his downcast
countenance the secret he would conceal.

“Yes, indeed!”

She engaged?”

“Her affections I said.”

“Her affections!”

“Why Don,” said Mr. Hamilton, “you must be blind.
Have you not observed Mr. Effingham's attentions?”

“Mr. Effingham!”

“And the manner in which she receives them?”

“No,” said the Captain, moodily; and too much cast down
to observe the twinkle of triumphant mischief in his companion's
eye.

“Why then you must be high gravel blind.”

“Diable!” cried the Captain, to Mr. Hamilton's great
delight.

“You see therefore your chances are not so good as you
thought.”

“Hum!” said the Captain, measuring himself in thought
against his rival.

“Effingham is her cousin, and you know cousins are proverbially
dangerous.”

The Captain made no reply, preserving a gloomy silence.

“I thought I'd mention it,” said his companion, in a
friendly and commiserating tone; “for we have taken so
many foxhunts together, that I naturally feel an interest in
all that concerns you.”

“Effingham!” muttered the Captain, buried in thought.

“Yes, yes; I say again you really must be blind—you
cannot see.”

“This troubles me, Hamilton,” said the Captain; “and
I don't mind telling you that I do admire Miss Henrietta.”

“Right! perfectly right!” replied Mr. Hamilton, shaking
with triumphant laughter; for one of the greatest delights
this worthy gentleman could experience was in the perpetration
of what is called a practical joke.

“You are quite sure of what you say?” continued the
Captain, gloomily twirling his moustache.

“Sure? can you ask!”

“Morbleu! 'tis too bad,” said the soldier; “I thought
Effingham was remarkable for staying away from the house.”

“Ah! a mistake, my friend; you are not there every
day.”

“True,” replied the Captain, with the same gloomy look.

“Now, do not attribute,” said Hamilton “to any bad

feeling at your own bantering, this little piece of information.
Of course I never deal in jokes of a practical nature
—oh no, my dear Don Moustachio—utterly impossible with
my frank and unsophisticated nature.”

And Mr. Jack Hamilton smiled with irony and triumph.

The Captain continued to think gloomily over what his
companion had just said, and they rode on in silence.

Hamilton could scarcely contain his laughter; and once
or twice was on the point of betraying himself. He felt
some remorse, too, and this also was near causing him to
inform the Captain that all this story was a mere effort of the
imagination. But suddenly he remembered more than one
joke of a practical and horse-play nature which Don Moustachio
had played at his expense, and his heart was again
hardened. He determined to leave his companion in ignorance
for two or three days at least; then have a party at
the Trap; relate the Captain's jokes at himself, and then detail
his revenge.

They reached in silence the opening of the road which
led from the main highway into Effingham Hall. Hamilton
drew rein.

“I must go in here, my dear Don,” he said; “come and
see your rival.”

“Thanks, sir,” said the soldier, gloomily, “but no, I
prefer proceeding on my way.”

Hamilton smiled.

“Ah, you are gravelled,” he said.

“Not at all,” said the Captain, frowning.

“You are angry.”

“Morbleu, not at all!” said Captain Ralph, looking
daggers.

“Well, that is right!” said his friend, ready to explode
with pent-up laughter; “don't suffer these little trifles to
disturb your equanimity. You are a bold cavalier, my dear
Don, and I should feel a dreadful amount of trepidation
were you my rival—had you selected in place of Miss Henrietta—well,
well, we will not speak of that. Do not think
that I bear you any grudge, and have been jesting; of
course I have not; we are boon companions, jolly hearts,
lads of metal, sworn friends;—bear up! Perhaps you

stand some slight chance yet, and a powerful exertion of
your warlike strategy might possibly end in defeating the
enemy, who, however, I should tell you as a friend, is a
very dangerous antagonist. He is her cousin—he is pale
and interesting—he is a man whom a woman may both admire
and pity; and you know very well, my dear Don, when
a woman experiences a sentiment of pity for a man what it
proverbially leads to! Don't be cast down, however. Let
me see you in a day or two.”

And shaking with laughter Mr. Jack Hamilton bowed to
his companion, who rode on moodily, and took his way toward
the Hall. When he had lost sight of the Captain, he uttered
a shout of laughter which made the wood echo again. He
had taken his revenge at a single blow; and we shall see
what came of it.”