He was missed not only by his old comrades in arms:
men who scarcely knew him by sight spared some regret to the favorite
hero of the Light Dragoons. Mark Waring, in the loneliness of his dreary
chambers, gnashed his teeth in bitterness of envy; for he guessed _who_
would be the chief mourner. Arnaud de Chateaumesnil's remark was
characteristic. Hearing that his old opponent had fallen in the front of
the battle, he struck his hand impatiently on his own crippled limbs,
muttering--"Sang-dieu! Il avait toujours la main heureuse." Harry
Molyneux can not trust his voice to speak of him yet; and other
beautiful eyes besides _La Mignonne's_ were dim with tears when they
read a certain death-gazette. Truly, "great men have fallen in Israel,"
and saints have departed in the plentitude of sanctity, without winning
such wealth of regrets as was lavished on the grave of that strong
sinner. Only two women alive--and these he had never wronged--rejoiced
over the news unfeignedly--Bessie Danvers and his own wife.
Shall we pass judgment on Royston Keene? He had erred so often and
heavily that even the intercession of a penitent who never kneels before
Heaven without mingling his name in her prayers must probably be
unavailing.
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