There is something in having a good horse under one which mightily uplifts a weary heart. It is like meat and drink, a consolation that rises in the blood and makes its way to the seat of the soul, which goes soaring. So it was with us on that September morning when we left Uzmaiz. We had been cooped up for over a month on the island, and every moment of our waking time had been full of labor and anxiety. Now, the worst had befallen us; and there is something of relief in the thought that there are no more bolts to fall. I believe that Count Saxe carried no delusions away from Uzmaiz. He did not at once give up his cause as lost, but I think he saw the game was not worth the winning. But for courage and smiling patience, one might have thought he had won the day, instead of being driven out, like a vagrant dog, from a strange fireside.

We mounted, and set forth in the dewy morning—the Russians civil enough, but General Lacy keeping out of sight for very shame at Bibikoff’s conduct, with which he was perfectly well acquainted. They gave us good horses. Count Saxe rode ahead, with Mademoiselle Capello, Gaston Cheverny and me following, and Beauvais 133 behind. Gaston Cheverny had a portmanteau strapped to his saddle, and in it was a treasure most precious to Francezka—her woman’s clothes. I had one equally valued by Count Saxe—his rescript of election by the Diet to the crown of Courland. I hid it between my skin and my shirt. For Francezka’s clothes and Count Saxe’s rescript we were ready to be hanged, drowned, or shot.

Count Saxe meant to make leisurely for our rendezvous at KÖnigsberg. There was no need for rapid travel, as our three hundred and odd men could not reach there for some days after us, as they had to make the entire distance on foot. For ourselves, the presence of Mademoiselle Capello necessarily delayed us, for although hardy for a woman, she could by no means make a day’s ride like old campaigners such as we were.

Almost from the first hour of our journey Francezka began to importune Count Saxe to get her a woman’s saddle and let her resume her own dress. To this Count Saxe soon agreed, Francezka pleading with wet eyes and quivering lips, as if for her life. In truth, her disguise was very incomplete; her long hair, her every look and motion betrayed her sex.

When Francezka had carried this point her spirits rose. She dismounted joyfully at the first roadside inn, and disappearing as a very pretty boy, came out again, as Mademoiselle Capello, her rich locks curled and plaited, and her beloved laced hat, which had cost her so many tears, anxieties and palpitations, set upon her graceful head. Our complications with regard to her would end as soon as we reached KÖnigsberg. Once 134 there it would be easy to make suitable arrangements for her, and until then she was the charge of us all, any one of whom would have laid down his life for her.

Thanks to the smallness of our party, no one suspected who we were. Count Saxe, from motives of prudence, gave himself out as Count Moritz. The weather was sunny, although the September air was sharp, but that only made our blood leap the faster. The roads were good, and the country far from tedious. Our road led us for a time toward the Baltic Sea, whose loud booming we could sometimes hear in the midnight silences.

We were seven days upon the road to KÖnigsberg. They were not the unhappiest days of my life, for I was enabled to do something for Francezka. She turned to me for help in many of those small needs of a woman. It was agreed, when she resumed her own dress, that the best thing to do was to say she was a young lady of rank, accidentally separated from her family and going to meet them at KÖnigsberg. This, and the extreme respect with which we treated her, secured her from the unpleasant comment of the vulgar. Beauvais always served her in her room at the inns where we stopped, and I think, on the whole, she made the journey with ease of mind and comfort of body.

On the seventh evening, toward sunset, we rode into KÖnigsberg, across the new bridge, and up to the best inn of the town, The Rose. And as we rode through the narrow streets, with their tall gabled houses, and into the courtyard of the inn, we saw there the welcomest sight our eyes could have rested on—the traveling chaise 135 of Madame Riano, with old Peter on the box, and Madame Riano herself descending from the chaise. And she was assisted by Regnard Cheverny!

Francezka uttered a cry of joy when she recognized Madame Riano, sprang from her horse before any one of us could give her a hand, and ran to her; then laying her head upon Madame Riano’s arm, burst into tears, but not tears of pain. Madame Riano held her close and kissed her. I think the two were at heart passionately attached to each other. I saw tears also in Madame Riano’s handsome, intrepid, tawny eyes, and her usually loud and determined voice broke when she thanked Count Saxe for his goodness to Mademoiselle Capello.

I was staggered at the sight of Regnard Cheverny, having thought him many hundreds of leagues away; but there he was, in the life, and as handsome and debonair a young gentleman as one would wish to see. He and Gaston embraced with unusual affection even for brothers. Whatever their rivalry might be, there could be no question that each bore love for the other.

Francezka having recovered a little from her agitation, Regnard came forward to greet her, and I saw that in his eye which showed me that he had traveled from Paris to KÖnigsberg for the sight of her. Gaston showed his admiration more openly.

We went into the inn, were shown the best room, and then exchanged the story of our adventures. As Gaston surmised, the Russians had not meant to be very severe on Madame Riano, and after detaining her a month at a small village not far from Mitau had let her go. Holding Madame Riano was as I have said of 136 Count Saxe—it was the holding of a wolf by the ears. Meanwhile, Regnard Cheverny had arrived at Mitau, and hearing of the lady’s mishaps, went to her, in the little town where she was under nominal surveillance. Madame Riano, with her usual acuteness had pitched upon KÖnigsberg as the likeliest place to await news from Francezka, for she had found out that Count Saxe was at Uzmaiz, and concluded that Francezka was there or in that neighborhood. And so, all had fallen out fortunately, and here we were, with whole skins, sitting at ease at the inn, and like all people who have passed through agitating times, disposed to rejoice in our present peace.

Almost the first thing Francezka, womanlike, asked of Madame Riano was, whether she had saved their boxes. This, madame had been fortunate enough to do. Francezka, with sparkling eyes, called her maid, Elizabeth—an elderly woman, sister of Peter, and who seemed as happy to see her as was Madame Riano—and the two disappeared together. When Francezka came out again she was dressed in a robe of pale blue stuff, with a gauze kerchief folded across her beautiful white neck, and looked like a rose in bloom. No wonder neither of the Chevernys could keep his eyes from her!

Supper was served in Madame Riano’s room, and we were a merry party, for runaways. Madame Riano was more considerate of Count Saxe than I had ever known her to be before, and indulged in no flouts or gibes. We sang at table, according to the French custom, and Gaston Cheverny, who was easily master of us all in that craft, sang a song of the Cardinal de Rohan and 137 sang it with meaning in his voice—a meaning which brought deep blushes to Francezka’s cheek, a scowl to Regnard Cheverny’s face, and smiles to the rest of us.

There was an ancient and rickety harpsichord in the room, on which mademoiselle played with much skill, and with a dainty hand. Then Madame Riano made us all sing Jacobite songs, joining in herself, with a voice like the rasping of a saw, and forcing us all to rise and pay royal honors to the name of Prince Charles Edward Stuart; and the evening went cheerfully, with music and pleasant conversation.

When mademoiselle had retired, Madame Riano called a council of war. The first thing to settle was the matter of the ransom of ten thousand crowns. Gaston Cheverny, like a youngster of spirit, talked as if ten thousand crowns was a mere bagatelle, although we all knew it was enough to swallow up his whole estate. He would pay it all—yes, he would—and would run any man through who dared hint anything else. Madame Riano, however, and Count Saxe, getting him between them, fairly intimidated him, and he was finally brought to consent, sulky and fuming, to paying only one-half of the money, the other half being due, by common honesty, from Mademoiselle Capello’s great estates. Count Saxe meant, of course, to make the payment of Gaston’s part as easy as possible to him. This point settled, Madame Riano proposed that we should travel together through Germany, and on reaching Brabant we should stop and rest ourselves for a month before going to Paris.

“For,” she said to Count Saxe, “let them in Paris get done with their lampooning and verses and jokes upon 138 you, Maurice of Saxe. I wager that long-legged, lightning-eyed Voltaire will have something to say about you, before you get to Paris. But give those Paris people one month, and they will forget all about you.”

To which, Count Saxe, grinding his teeth, was obliged to agree. It was certainly true that Arouet, the notary’s son, would crack some of his infernal jokes upon our unhappy expedition. Then Madame Riano urged us to stop at Capello, which was directly upon our road from Brussels to Paris. Mademoiselle Capello, from the time she had first fallen into our hands, had never ceased to picture the pleasure she would one day have of our company at her chÂteau of Capello, and so Count Saxe thankfully accepted Madame Riano’s invitation. Gaston Cheverny’s house, a simple manor house, was in sight of the chÂteau of Capello, as Gaston had told us many times, while Castle Haret, which Regnard had so cleverly acquired, was some distance away.

We spent four days in KÖnigsberg before the remainder of our poor fellows caught up with us. Count Saxe, on their arrival, harangued them, and promised to take them all into his service at Paris, where he proposed to buy a regiment. He gave them their wages and something handsome besides, provided the officers with money and horses, and they took their several ways, to meet at Paris the first of the year 1728.

KÖnigsberg is a quaint place—I have seen few quainter in my time. It was explored thoroughly by Madame Riano, Mademoiselle Capello, and the two Chevernys. Regnard’s errand became plainer every day, but plainly, also, it was not well received by Francezka. 139 She had the art, in a remarkable degree, of combining perfect civility with the most discouraging coldness. I have often noticed that women need but little training or experience in the way of treating men. They seem to divine it all. This young girl had already mastered the whole art of managing the other sex, and she had scarcely passed her sixteenth birthday. She seemed to graduate her kindness by a novel rule. She was most sweet to me in words and looks, calling me her good Babache. To Gaston Cheverny, a younger brother, and by no means so great in estate and consideration as Regnard Cheverny, she was next in kindness. While to Regnard, who declared his passion for her in every look, she was smilingly distant, cool and radiant, like a full moon on a December night.

On the fifth day after our arrival in KÖnigsberg we set out on our long journey toward Brabant. Madame Riano and Mademoiselle Capello, with their two waiting maids, were in the traveling chaise, with old Peter on the box. Sometimes we could get a good saddle horse for Mademoiselle Capello and then she often did the whole day’s travel on horseback. Count Saxe, the Chevernys and I were the escort, with Beauvais and Regnard Cheverny’s servant behind.

The season was remarkably fine, and we made the journey in extreme comfort. How wise it is, when one has had an irreparable loss, to prescribe travel as a means of resting the tired heart! The ever present necessities of the hour, the quick and constant changes, the dangers—for there are many dangers on the highways of the kingdoms—the good or bad inn which awaits one—all these small things fill up a great horizon. 140 All the politics of Europe sank into nothing when it became a question of supper and beds at the end of a hard day’s journey.

Madame Riano proved herself, as always, to have a basis of good sense, and much liberality. She never haggled over anything, albeit she was a Scot; was good-humored generally, or if ill-humored was diverting to everybody except the victim of her wrath. I noticed she was much less dictatorial to Mademoiselle Capello than one would expect; and I shrewdly suspected that Madame Riano knew Francezka was of a nature not to be driven, and chose rather to abate some of her arrogance before this young girl. One thing was plain: Mademoiselle Capello assumed all the honors of the chatelaine of her Brabant chÂteau, and gave us to understand that she was mistress there, de facto if not de jure; for she would not become actual mistress of her estates or herself until her eighteenth birthday. Madame Riano, talking once with Count Saxe and me in the garden of an inn, on a pleasant morning, before it was time to start, told us some particulars of these matters.

“My niece and all her estates were left in my charge by my brother—God rest his soul. And I think neither has been mismanaged. But the Kirkpatricks are all given sense to manage themselves at a very early age—God having decreed it so. And especially is this true with Francezka. Seeing her bent on managing herself, at least, I have withdrawn some of my authority, for it is better that she should know what responsibility means, before herself and her fortune lie in her own hand. I am much mistaken if the chit does not spend 141 a good part of her time speculating on what she will do when she is her own mistress absolutely. My brother, in his will, recommended his daughter not to marry for at least two years after reaching her majority, and she professes to regard this as a solemn command. Oh, she means to have a fling or two, before she puts her head in the marriage noose! So, I am in control of my niece, very much as you, Count Saxe, are Duke of Courland: we both have the papers—that is, if Babache still has your rescript under his shirt, but neither one of us could precisely enforce our authority.”

This was the only gibe Madame Riano threw at us during the whole journey.

Often, when Mademoiselle Capello rode, she called me to her side. Gaston Cheverny was satisfied at this, reckoning me, and truly, as his friend. Regnard, on the contrary, was ill-pleased. Yet he showed excellent temper and judgment, always. It was to be a long chase, that of Mademoiselle Capello; and Regnard’s qualities, persistence, cheerfulness under defeat, and airy, indomitable spirit, often tell in the end.