"
We wrote our names, and then the pen was handed to Gabord. He took
it, and at last, with many flourishes and ahos, and by dint of
puffings and rolling eyes, he wrote his name so large that it filled
as much space as the other names and all the writing, and was indeed
like a huge indorsement across the record.
When this was done, Alixe held out her hand to him. "Will you kiss
me, Gabord?" she said.
The great soldier was all taken back. He flushed like a schoolboy,
yet a big humour and pride looked out of his eyes.
"I owe you for the sables, too," she said. "But kiss me--not on my
ears, as the Russian count kissed Gabord, but on both cheek."
This won him to our cause utterly, and I never think of Gabord,
as I saw him last in the sway and carnage of battle, fighting with
wild uproar and covered with wounds, but the memory of that moment,
when he kissed my young wife, comes back to me.
At that he turned to leave. "I'll hold the door for ten minutes,"
he added; and bowed to the chaplain, who blessed us then with tears
in his eyes, and smiled a little to my thanks and praises and purse
of gold, and to Alixe's sweet gratitude. With lifting chin--good
honest gentleman, who afterwards proved his fidelity and truth--he
said that he would die to uphold this sacred ceremony.
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