The Scarlet Pimpernel

Tall, above the average, even for an Englishman, broad-shouldered and massively built, he would have been called unusually good-looking, but f

tonished fashionable society in London and Bath by bringing home, from one of his journeys abroad, a beautiful, fascinating, clever, French wife. He, the sleepiest, dullest,

e Richelieu, a coterie which was as brilliant as it was exclusive-exclusive, that is to say, only from one point of view. Marguerite St. Just was from principle and by conviction a republican-equality of birth was her motto-inequality of fortune was in her eyes a mere untoward accident, but the only inequality she admitted was that of talent. "Money and titles may b

ating young actress of the Comedie Francaise, and she glided through republican, revolutionary, bloodthirsty Paris lik

ding thick and fast in Paris just then, but to all, the real motive of that climax remained a puzzle and a mystery. Anyway, Marguerite St. Just married Sir Percy Blakeney

revolved round "the cleverest woman in Europe," as her friends unanimously called her, no one v

nds who knew, laughed to scorn the idea that Marguerite St. Just had married a fool for the sake of the worldly advantages with which he might endow her. They knew, as a matter of fact, that Marguerite St. Just cared nothing about money, and still l

to consist in his blind adoration for her, his great wealth and the high favour in which he stood at the English court; but London society thought that, taking into

fe. Percy had just been born when the late Lady Blakeney fell prey to the terrible malady which in those days was looked upon as hopelessly incurable and nothing short of a curse of God upon the entire family. Sir Algernon took his afflicted young wife abroad, and there presumably Percy was edu

, the Prince of Wales took a very great liking to them both. Within six months they were the acknowledged leaders of fashion and of style. Sir Percy's coats were the talk of the town, his inanities were quoted, his foolish laugh copied by th

ince his fate was of his own making. There were plenty of young ladies in England, of high birth and good looks, who would have been quite willing to help him to spend the Blakeney fortune, whilst smiling indulgently at his inanities and his good-humoured foolishness. Moreover, Sir P

if his matrimonial relations with the fascinating Parisienne had not turned out all that his hopes a

vished jewels and luxuries of all kinds upon her, which she took with inimitable grace, dispensing the hospitali

. On this special afternoon in September, in spite of the long journey by coach, in spite of rain and mud, his coat set irreproachably across his fine shoulders, his hands looked almost femininely white, as they emerged through billowy frills of finest Mechline lace: the extravagantly short-waisted satin coat, wid

ne overcoat; then putting up a gold-rimmed eye-glass to his lazy blue eye, h

nd shaking them by the hand. "Zounds, my dear fellow," he added, smotherin

, Marguerite had turned towards her husband, and was surveying him fr

's silence, as no one offered any comment,

amount of gaiety, which, however, sounded somewhat forced, "n

reassure Sir Percy as to the gravity of the incident. It apparen

. Begad! who was the bold man

no time to do so, for the young Vicomt

the Comtesse de Tournay de Basserive, has offenced Madame, who, I see, is your wife. I cannot ask your pardon for my

d very enthusiastic, very proud, and very hot as he gazed at six fo

er merry infectious laughs, "look on that pretty

d down with complete bewilderment upon the dainty little F

nd surveying the young Frenchman with undisguised wonderment,

bashed at the way his warlike attitude had be

urbably, "demmed marvellous! Don't you think so, Tony-eh

Marguerite, "Sir Percy has a Britis

l more broken English, "I fear you have not understand. I

s that?" asked Si

icomte, who, though still bewildere

," said Marguerite, merrily; "t

r two, through his partly closed heavy lids, then he smothered a

od-humouredly, "demmit, young man,

h such marked insolence, might fill volumes of sound reflections. . . . What he said resolved itse

nsieur," he

his own pleasant and inane laugh, and burying his slender, long hands into the capacious pockets of his overcoat, he said leisurely-"a bloodthirsty young ruffian, Do you want to make a hole in a la

ry and honour were based upon a code that had centuries of tradition to back it, the spectacle of a gentleman actually refusing to fight a duel was a little short of an enormity. In his mind he vaguely pon

ded with a SOUPCON of dry sarcasm, "might do Sir Percy an injury." She laughed a mocking little laugh, which, however, did not in the least disturb her husban

umoured as ever, had joined

santly to the Vicomte. "Clever woman my wife, sir. . . .

dly hand on the young Frenchman's shoulder. "It would hardly be fitting th

of the shoulders directed against the extraordinary code of honour p

e no griefs. You mi'lor', are our protecto

is breath, "Faith, Ffoulkes, if that's a specimen of the goods you and your friends bring over from France, my advice to you is, drop 'em 'mid

Marguerite, coquettishly, "you forget that you your

king a deep and elaborate bow before his

e market, Madame, and

ivalry, I fear," she

ng to allow my body to be made a pincushion of, by every

him a quaint and pretty curtsey, "you need not be afra

ise the ring for nothing, do I, Tony? I've put up the fists with Re

oak rafters of the parlour, "I would I had seen you then . . . ha! ha! ha! ha!-you must have looked

, mark ye that! I have made my wife laugh!-The cleverest woman in Europe! . . . Odd's fish, we must have

ns he had experienced within the last half hour. "A bowl of punch, Jelly, hot and strong, eh?" said Sir Per

te. "The skipper will be here directly and my brother m

for any gentleman to get drunk and ge

respectfully, "that the young gentleman is

k you, Tony," he added, turning towards the Vicomte, "that the jackanapes of yo

Marguerite, "that I trust you will forgive me

at the moment. Her love for her brother, Armand St. Just, was deep and touching in the extreme. He had just spent a few weeks with her i

which the fashion of the time dictated, as she sailed out of the room without bestowing on him more than a passing, slightly contemptuous glance. Only Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, whose every thought since he had met Suzanne de Tourna