<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></SPAN>CHAPTER XXXVIII.<br/><br/> <small>FATHER AND SON.</small></h2>
<p>T<small>HE</small> knight of Redcastle knew he should find his father at their Paris
Lodgings. Since his rupture with Richelieu, he found life insupportable
at Versailles and he tried to conquer torpor by agitation, and by change
of residence.</p>
<p>With frightful spells of swearing, he was pacing the little garden when
he saw his son appear. In his expectation he snapped at any branch. He
greeted him with a mixture of spite and curiosity; but when he saw his
moody face, paleness, rigid lines of feature, and set of the mouth, it
froze the flow of questions he was about to let go.</p>
<p>“You? by what hazard?”</p>
<p>“I am bringing bad news,” returned the captain gravely.</p>
<p>The baron staggered.</p>
<p>“Are we quite alone?” asked the younger man.</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“But I think we had better go in, as certain things should not be spoken
under the light of heaven.”</p>
<p>Affecting unconcern and even to smile, the baron followed his son into
the low sitting room where Philip carefully closed the doors.</p>
<p>“Father, my sister and I are going to take leave of you.”</p>
<p>“What is this?” said the old noble surprised. “How about the army?”</p>
<p>“I am not in the army: happily, the King does not require my services.”</p>
<p>“I do not understand the ‘happily?<SPAN name="page_231" id="page_231"></SPAN>’”</p>
<p>“I am not driven to the extremity of preferring dishonor to
fortune—there you have it.”</p>
<p>“But your sister? does she entertain the same ideas about duty?” asked
the baron frowning.</p>
<p>“She has had to rank them beneath those the utmost necessity.”</p>
<p>The baron rose from his chair, grumbling:</p>
<p>“What a foolish pack these riddle-makers are!”</p>
<p>“If what I say is an enigma to you, then I will make it clear. My sister
is obliged to go away lest she be dishonored.”</p>
<p>The baron laughed.</p>
<p>“Thunder, what model children I have!” he sneered. “The boy gives up his
regiment and the girl a stool-of-state at a princess’s feet, all for
fear of dishonor. We are going back to the time of Brutus and Lucretia.
In my era, though we had no philosophy, if any one saw dishonor coming,
he whipped out his sword and ran the dishonor through the middle. I know
it was a sharp method, for a philosopher who does not like to see
bloodshed. But, any way, military officers are not cut out for
philosophers.”</p>
<p>“I have as much consciousness as you on what honor imposes; but blood
will not redeem—— ”</p>
<p>“A truce to your pretty phrases of philosophy,” cried the old man;
irritated into trying to be majesty. “I came near saying poltroons.”</p>
<p>“You were quite right not to say it,” retorted the young chevalier,
quivering.</p>
<p>The baron proudly bore the threatening and implacable glance.</p>
<p>“I thought that a man was born to me in my house,” said he: “a man who
would cut out the tongue of the first knave who dared to tell of
dishonor to the Taverney Redcastles.”</p>
<p>“Sometimes the shame comes from an inevitable misfortune, sir, and that
is the case of my sister and myself.”</p>
<p>“I pass to the lady. If according to my reasoning, a man ought to attack
the dagger, the woman should await it with a firm foot. Where would be
the triumph of virtue unless it meets and defeats vice? Now, if my
<SPAN name="page_232" id="page_232"></SPAN>daughter is so weak as to feel like running away—— ”</p>
<p>“My sister is not weak, but she has fallen victim to a plot of
scoundrels who have cowardly schemed to stain unblemished honor. I
accuse nobody. The crime was conceived in the dark; let it die in the
dark, for I understand in my own way the honor of my house.”</p>
<p>“But how do you know?” asked the baron, his eyes glowing with joy at the
hope of securing a fresh hold on the plunder. “In this case, Philip, the
glory and honor of our house have not vanished; we triumph.”</p>
<p>“Ugh! you are really the very thing I feared,” said the captain with
supreme disgust; “you have betrayed yourself—lacking presence of mind
before your judge as righteousness before your son.”</p>
<p>“I have no luck with my children,” said the baron; “a fool and a brute.”</p>
<p>“I have yet to say two things to you. The King gave you a collar of
pearls and diamonds—— ”</p>
<p>“To your sister.”</p>
<p>“To you. But words matter not. My sister does not wear such jewels.
Return them or if you like not to offend his Majesty, keep them.”</p>
<p>He handed the casket to his father who opened it, and threw it on the
chiffonier.</p>
<p>“We are not rich since you have pledged or sold the property of our
mother—for which I am not blaming you, but so we must choose. If you
keep this lodging, we will go to Taverney.”</p>
<p>“Nay, I prefer Taverney,” said the baron, fumbling with his lace ruffles
while his lips quivered without Philip appearing to notice the
agitation.</p>
<p>“Then we take this house.”</p>
<p>“I will get out at once,” and the baron thought, “down at Taverney I
will be a little king with three thousand a-year.”</p>
<p>He picked up the case of jewels and walked to the door, saying with an
atrocious smile:</p>
<p>“Philip, I authorise you to dedicate your first philosophical work to
me. As for Andrea’s first work, advise her to call it Louis, or Louise,
as the case may be. It is a lucky name.”</p>
<p>He went forth, chuckling.<SPAN name="page_233" id="page_233"></SPAN></p>
<p>With bloodshot eye, and a brow of fire, Philip clutched his swordhilt,
saying:</p>
<p>“God grant me patience and oblivion.”</p>
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