who was puffing himself up at the coach window, in his handsome red sash of the order of knighthood. "He, here? Who is taking care of my hound, then?"
Hearing the words, the young man respectfully bowed to Andrea and her father. But it took him all his powers to make the effort.
"It is so. It is the rascal in person," said the baron.
On Andrea's face, observed by Gilbert with sustained attention, was perfect calm under slight surprise.
Leaning out of the carriage, the baron beckoned to his ex-retainer. But the soldier who had given the youth a lesson in etiquette stopped him.
"Let the lad come to me," said the lord; "I have a couple of words to say to him."
"You may go half a dozen, my lord," said the sergeant, flattered by the nobleman addressing him; "plenty of time, for they are speechifying under the porch. Pass, younker."
"Come hither, rogue," said the baron on Gilbert affecting not to hurry himself out of his usual walk. "Tell me by what chance you are out here at St. Denis when you ought to be at Taverney?"
"It is no chance," replied Gilbert, saluting lord and lady for the second time, "but the act of my free will."
"What do you mean by your will, varlet? Have you such a thing as a will of your own?"
"Why not? Every free man has his own."
"Free man? Do you fancy yourself free, you unhappy dog?"
"Of course, since I parted with my freedom to no one."
"On my word, here's a pretty knave," said the baron, taken aback by the coolness of the speaker. "How dare you be in town, and how did you manage to get here?"
"I walked it," said Gilbert shortly.
"Walked!" repeated Andrea with some pity.
"But I ask what you have come here for?" continued the baron.
"To get an education, which is assured me, and make my fortune, which I hope for."
"What are you doing meanwhile—begging?"
"Begging?" reiterated Gilbert, with superb scorn.
"Thieving, then?"
"I never stole anything from Taverney," retorted Gilbert, with such proud and wild firmness that it riveted the girl's attention on him for a space.
"What mischief does your idle hand find to do, then?"
"What a genius is doing, whom I seek to resemble if only by perseverance; I copy music," replied the rebel.
"You copy music?" queried Andrea, turning round. "Then you know it?" in the tone of one saying, "You are a liar."
"I know the notes, and that is enough for copying. I like music dearly, and I used to listen to the lady playing at the harpsichord."
"You eavesdropper!"
"I got the airs by heart to begin with; and next, as I saw they were written in a book, I saw a method in it and I learnt it."
"You dared to touch my book?" said Andrea, at the height of indignation.
"I had no need to touch it; it lay open. I looked, and there is no soiling a printed page by a look."
"Let me tell you," sneered the baron, "that we shall have this imp declare that he can play the piano like Haydn."
"I might have learnt that if I had presumed to touch the keys," said the youth, confidently.
Against her inclination, Andrea cast a second look on the face animated by a feeling like a martyr's in fanaticism. But the lord, who had not his daughter's calmness and clear head, felt his wrath kindle at the youth being right and their being inhumane in leaving him with the watchdog at Taverney. It is hard to forgive an inferior for the wrong which he may convict us with; hence he grew heated as his daughter cooled.
"You rapscallion!" he said. "You desert and play the vagabond and spout such tomfoolery as we hear when you are brought to task. But as I do not wish the king's highway to be infested with gipsy tramps and thieves——"
Andrea held up her hand to appease the patrician, whose exaggeration annulled his superiority. But he put her aside and continued:
"I shall tell Chief of Police Sartines about you, and have you locked up in the House of Correction, you fledgeling philosopher."
"Lord Baron," returned Gilbert, drawing back but slapping his hat down on his head with the ire which made him white, "I have found patrons in town at whose door your Sartines dances attendance!"
"The deuse you say so?" questioned the baron. "You shall taste the stirrup leather anyway. Andrea, call your brother, who is close to hand."
Andrea stooped out toward the offender and bade him begone in an imperious voice.
"Philip," called the old noble.
Gilbert stood on the spot, mute and unmoving, as in ecstatic worship. Up rode a cavalier at the call; it was the Knight of Redcastle, joyous and brilliant in a captain's uniform.
"Why, it is Gilbert," he exclaimed. "The idea of his being here! Good-day, Gilbert. What do you want, father?"
"I want you to whip this malapert with your sword-scabbard," roared the old patrician, pale with anger.
"What has he done?" inquired Philip, looking with growing astonishment from his father in age to the youth who had tranquilly returned his greeting.
"Never mind what he has done, but lash him, Philip, as you would a dog!"
"What has he done?" asked the chevalier, turning to his sister. "Has he insulted you?"
"I insult her?" repeated Gilbert.
"Not at all," answered Andrea. "He has done nothing. Father let his passion get the upper hand of him. Gilbert is no longer in our service and has the right to go wherever he likes. Father does not understand this and flew into a rage."
"Is that all?" asked Captain Philip.
"All, brother, and I do not understand father's wrath about such stuff and for the trash who do not deserve a look. Just see if we are not to go on again, Philip."
Subdued by his daughter's serenity, the baron was quiet. Crushed by such scorn, Gilbert lowered his head. Something ran through his heart much like hatred. He would have preferred Philip Taverney's sword or even a cut of his whip. He came near swooning.
Luckily the speechmaking was over and the procession moved forward once more. Andrea was carried on, and faded as in a dream.
Gilbert thought he was alone in his grief, believing that he could never support the weight of such misfortune. But a hand was laid on his shoulder.
Turning, he saw Philip, who came smiling toward him, having dismounted and given his steed to his orderly to hold.
"I should like to
