He did not reach his deduction. M. de Chateaurien, breaking into his
narrative, addressed him very quietly. "Monsieur," he said, "none but
swine deny the nobleness of that good and gentle lady, Mademoiselle la
Princesse de Bourbon-Conti. Every Frenchman know' that her cousin is a
bad rebel and ingrate, who had only honor and rispec' for her, but was
so wilful he could not let even the king say, 'You shall marry here,
you shall marry there.' My frien's," the young man turned to the others,
"may I ask you to close roun' in a circle for one moment? It is clearly
shown that the Duke of Orleans is a scurvy fellow, but not--" he wheeled
about and touched Captain Rohrer on the brow with the back of his gloved
hand--"but not so scurvy as thou, thou swine of the gutter!"
Two hours later, with perfect ease, he ran Captain Rohrer through the
left shoulder--after which he sent a basket of red roses to the Duke
of Winterset. In a few days he had another captain to fight. This was
a ruffling buck who had the astounding indiscretion to proclaim M.
de Chateaurien an impostor. There was no Chateaurien, he swore. The
Frenchman laughed in his face, and, at twilight of the same day, pinked
him carefully through the right shoulder. It was not that he could
not put aside the insult to himself, he declared to Mr. Molyneux,
his second, and the few witnesses, as he handed his wet sword to his
lackey--one of his station could not be insulted by a doubt of that
station--but he fought in the quarrel of his friend Winterset.
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