The Talisman Ring

“Very true,” agreed the Beau, sipping his tea. “And in some ways a son of Ludovic’s might best solve the vexed question of who is to reign in Sylvester’s stead.”

“The estate is left in trust.”

“From your gloomy expression, Tristram, I infer that you are one of the trustees,” remarked the Beau. “Am I right?”

“Oh yes, you’re right. Pickering is joined with me. I told Sylvester he should have named you.”

“You are too modest, my dear fellow. He could not have made a better choice.”

“I am not modest,” replied Shield. “I don’t want the charge of another man’s estate; that is all.”

The Beau laughed, and setting down his tea cup turned to Eustacie. “It has occurred to me that I am here merely in the role of chaperon to a betrothed couple,” he said. “I do not feel that I am cut out for such a role, so I shall go away now. Dear cousin!—” He raised her hand to his lips. “Tristram, my felicitations. If we do not meet before we shall certainly meet at Sylvester’s funeral.”

There was a short silence after he had gone. Sir Tristram snuffed a candle which was guttering, and glanced down at Eustacie, sitting still and apparently pensive by the fire. As though aware of his look, she raised her eyes and gazed at him in the intent, considering way which was so peculiarly her own.

“Sylvester wants to see us married before he dies,” Shield said.

“Basil does not think he will die.”

“I believe he is nearer to it than we know. What did the doctor say?”

“He said he was very irreligious, and altogether insupportable,” replied Eustacie literally.

Sir Tristram laughed, surprising his cousin, who had not imagined that his countenance could lighten so suddenly. “I dare say he might, but was that all he said?”

“No, he said also that it was useless for him to come any more to see Grandpиre, because when he said he should have gruel Grandpиre at once sent for a green goose and a bottle of burgundy. The doctor said that it would kill him, and du vrai, I think he is piqued because it did not kill Grandpиre at all. So perhaps Grandpиre will not die, but on the contrary get quite well again.”

“I am afraid it is only his will which keeps him alive.” Shield moved towards the fire and said, looking curiously down at Eustacie: “Are you fond of him? Will it make you unhappy if he dies?”

“No,” she replied frankly. “I am a little fond of him, but not very much, because he is not fond of anybody, he. It is not his wish that one should be fond of him.”

“He brought you out of France,” Shield reminded her.

“Yes, but I did not want to be brought out of France,” said Eustacie bitterly.

“Perhaps you did not then, but you are surely glad to be in England now?”

“I am not at all glad, but, on the contrary, very sorry,” said Eustacie. “If he had left me with my uncle I should have gone to Vienna, which would have been not only very gay, but also romantic, because my uncle fled from France with all his family, in a berline just like the King and Queen.”

“Not quite like the King and Queen if he succeeded in crossing the frontier,” said Shield.

“I will tell you something,” said Eustacie, incensed. “Whenever I recount to you an interesting story you make me an answer which is like—which is like those snuffers—enfin!”

“I’m sorry,” said Shield, rather startled.

“Well, I am sorry too,” said Eustacie, getting up from the sofa, “because it makes it very difficult to converse. I shall wish you good night, mon cousin.”

If she expected him to try to detain her she was disappointed. He merely bowed formally and opened the door for her to pass out of the room.

Five minutes later her maid, hurrying to her bedchamber in answer to a somewhat vehement tug at the bellrope, found her seated before her mirror, stormily regarding her own reflection.

“I will undress, and I will go to bed,” announced Eustacie.’

“Yes, miss.”

“And I wish, moreover, that I had gone to Madame Guillotine in a tumbril, alone!”

Country-bred Lucy, a far more appreciative audience than Sir Tristram, gave a shudder, and said: “Oh, miss, don’t speak of such a thing! To think of you having your head cut off, and you so young and beautiful!”

Eustacie stepped out of her muslin gown, and pushed her arms into the wrapper Lucy was holding. “And I should have worn a white dress, and even the sans-culottes would have been sorry to have seen me in a tumbril!”

Lucy had no very clear idea who the sans-culottes might be, but she assented readily, and added, in all sincerity, that her mistress would have looked lovely.

“Well, I think I should have looked nice,” said Eustacie candidly. “Only it is no use thinking of that, because instead I am going to be married.”

Lucy paused on her task of taking the pins out of her mistress’s hair to clasp her hands, and breathe ecstatically: “Yes, miss, and if I may make so bold as I do wish you so happy!”

“When one is forced into a marriage infinitely distasteful one does not hope for happiness,” said Eustacie in a hollow voice.