'
So saying, the eminent and already detested Mr. Dawson took his
departure, and I was left alone with Rowley. A man who may be said
to have wakened to consciousness in the prison of the Abbaye, among
those ever graceful and ever tragic figures of the brave and fair,
awaiting the hour of the guillotine and denuded of every comfort, I
had never known the luxuries or the amenities of my rank in life.
To be attended on by servants I had only been accustomed to in
inns. My toilet had long been military, to a moment, at the note
of a bugle, too often at a ditch-side. And it need not be wondered
at if I looked on my new valet with a certain diffidence. But I
remembered that if he was my first experience of a valet, I was his
first trial as a master. Cheered by which consideration, I
demanded my bath in a style of good assurance. There was a
bathroom contiguous; in an incredibly short space of time the hot
water was ready; and soon after, arrayed in a shawl dressing-gown,
and in a luxury of contentment and comfort, I was reclined in an
easy-chair before the mirror, while Rowley, with a mixture of pride
and anxiety which I could well understand, laid out his razors.
'Hey, Rowley?' I asked, not quite resigned to go under fire with
such an inexperienced commander. 'It's all right, is it? You feel
pretty sure of your weapons?'
'Yes, my lord,' he replied.
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