"I stopped to get rid of a stone in my horse's hoof," he said. "If
I had only had a fight for it I should not have minded, but not
even to have the pleasure of exchanging a pass or two with one of
you gentlemen is hard indeed."
"It is just as well that you did not," one of the officers said,
"for Monsieur le Marquis de Pignerolles is probably the best
swordsman in our army."
"The Marquis de Pignerolles," Rupert said, courteously; "it would
have been a pleasure to have crossed swords with him, but scarcely
fair, for he knows already that he is not a match for me."
"What!" exclaimed the marquis himself and the two officers, in
astonishment.
"You are pleased to joke, sir," the marquis said haughtily.
"Not at all," Rupert said, gravely. "You have met two persons who
were your match. You remember Monsieur Dalboy?"
"Dalboy!" the marquis said. "Surely, surely, le Maitre Dalboy,
yet--?"
"No, I am assuredly not Monsieur Dalboy," Rupert said. "And the
other?"
The marquis reined in his horse suddenly.
"What!" he said, "you are--?"
"Rupert Holliday, my dear Monsieur Dessin."
"My dear, dear lad," the marquis exclaimed. "What pleasure! What
delight!" and drawing his horse by the side of Rupert he embraced
him with affection.
"My friends," he said to the other officers, who were naturally
astonished at this sudden recognition between their prisoner and
their colonel, "gentlemen, this English officer is my very dear
friend.
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