will do the
same, won't you, cousin?"

Frank, who had been looking on with a stupid air at the papers as they
flamed in the old brasier, took out his sword and broke it, holding his
head down:--"I go with my cousin," says he, giving Esmond a grasp of the
hand. "Marquis or not, by ----, I stand by him any day. I beg your Majesty's
pardon for swearing; that is--that is--I'm for the Elector of Hanover. It's
all your Majesty's own fault. The queen's dead most likely by this time.
And you might have been king if you hadn't come dangling after 'Trix".

"Thus to lose a crown," says the young prince, starting up, and speaking
French in his eager way; "to lose the loveliest woman in the world; to
lose the loyalty of such hearts as yours, is not this, my lords, enough of
humiliation?--Marquis, if I go on my knees will you pardon me?--No, I can't
do that, but I can offer you reparation, that of honour, that of
gentlemen. Favour me by crossing the sword with mine: yours is broke--see,
yonder in the armoire are two;" and the prince took them out as eager as a
boy, and held them towards Esmond:--"Ah! you will? _Merci, monsieur,
merci!_"

Extremely touched by this immense mark of condescension and repentance for
wrong done, Colonel Esmond bowed down so low as almost to kiss the
gracious young hand that conferred on him such an honour, and took his
guard in silence. The swords were no sooner met, than Castlewood knocked
up Esmond's with the blade of his own, which he had broke off short at the
shell; and the colonel falling back a step dropped his point with another
very low bow, and declared himself perfectly satisfied.

"_Eh bien, vicomte_," says the young prince, who was a boy, and a French
boy, "_il ne nous reste qu'une chose a faire_:" he placed his sword upon
the table, and the fingers of his two hands upon his breast:--"We have one
more thing to do," says he; "you do not divine it?" He stretched out his
arms:--"_Embrassons nous!_"

The talk was scarce over when Beatrix entered the room:--What came she to
seek there? She started and turned pale at the sight of her brother and
kinsman, drawn swords, broken sword-blades, and papers yet smouldering in
the brasier.

"Charming Beatrix," says the prince, with a blush which became him very
well, "these lords have come a-horseback from London, where my sister lies
in a despaired state, and where her successor makes himself desired.
Pardon me for my escapade of last evening. I had b