Bardelys the Magnificent | Page 3

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BARDELYS THE MAGNIFICENT
Being on Account of the Strange Wooing pursued by the Sieur Marcel

de Saint-Pol; Marquis of Bardelys, and of the things that in the course
of it befell him in Languedoc, in the year of the Rebellion
BY RAFAEL SABATINI

CONTENTS I. THE WAGER II. THE KING'S WISHES III. RENT:
DE LESPERON IV. A MAID IN THE MOONLIGHT V. THE
VICOMTE DE LAVEDAN VI. IN CONVALESCENCE VII. THE
HOSTILITY OF SAINT-EUSTACHE VIII. THE PORTRAIT IX. A
NIGHT ALARM X. THE RISEN DEAD XI. THE KING'S
COMMISSIONER XII. THE TRIBUNAL OF TOULOUSE XIII. THE
ELEVENTH HOUR XIV. EAVESDROPPING XV. MONSIEUR DE
CHATELLERAULT IS ANGRY XVI. SWORDS XVII. THE
BABBLING OF GANYMEDE XVIII. SAINT-EUSTACHE IS
OBSTINATE XIX. THE FLINT AND THE STEEL XX. THE
"BRAVI" AT BLAGNAC XXI. LOUIS THE JUST XXII. WE
UNSADDLE

BARDELYS THE MAGNIFICENT
CHAPTER I
THE WAGER
Speak of the Devil," whispered La Fosse in my ear, and, moved by the
words and by the significance of his glance, I turned in my chair.
The door had opened, and under the lintel stood the thick-set figure of
the Comte de Chatellerault. Before him a lacquey in my escutcheoned
livery of red-and-gold was receiving, with back obsequiously bent, his
hat and cloak.
A sudden hush fell upon the assembly where a moment ago this very
man had been the subject of our talk, and silenced were the wits that
but an instant since had been making free with his name and turning the

Languedoc courtship - from which he was newly returned with the
shame of defeat - into a subject for heartless mockery and jest. Surprise
was in the air for we had heard that Chatellerault was crushed by his
ill-fortune in the lists of Cupid, and we had not looked to see him
joining so soon a board at which - or so at least I boasted - mirth
presided.
And so for a little space the Count stood pausing on my threshold,
whilst we craned our necks to contemplate him as though he had been
an object for inquisitive inspection. Then a smothered laugh from the
brainless La Fosse seemed to break the spell. I frowned. It was a climax
of discourtesy whose impression I must at all costs efface.
I leapt to my feet, with a suddenness that sent my chair gliding a full
half-yard along the glimmering parquet of the floor, and in two strides I
had reached the Count and put forth my hand to bid him welcome. He
took it with a leisureliness that argued sorrow. He advanced into the
full blaze of the candlelight, and fetched a dismal sigh from the depths
of his portly bulk.
"You are surprised to see me, Monsieur le Marquis," said he, and his
tone seemed to convey an apology for his coming - for his very
existence almost.
Now Nature had made my Lord of Chatellerault as proud and arrogant
as