He stood still, amazed, beneath the lintel - marvelling to see all this anger, and abashed at beholding me. His sudden appearance reminded me that I had last seen him at Grenade in the Count's company, on the day of my arrest. The surprise it had occasioned me now returned upon seeing him so obviously and intimately seeking Chatellerault.
The Count turned on him in his anger.
"Well, popinjay?" he roared. "What do you want with me?""Monsieur le Comte!" cried the other, in blent indignation and reproach.
"You will perceive that you are come inopportunely," I put in.
"Monsieur de Chatellerault is not quite himself."But my speech again drew his attention to my presence; and the wonder grew in his eyes at finding me there, for to him I was still Lesperon the rebel, and he marvelled naturally that I should be at large.
Then in the corridor there was a sound of steps and voices, and as Iturned I beheld in the doorway, behind Saint-Eustache, the faces of Castelroux, Mironsac, and my old acquaintance, the babbling, irresponsible buffoon, La Fosse. From Mironsac he had heard of my presence in Toulouse, and, piloted by Castelroux, they were both come to seek me out. I'll swear it was not thus they had looked to find me.
They pushed their way into the room, impelling Saint-Eustache forward, and there were greetings exchanged and felicitations, whilst Chatellerault, curbing his disorder, drew the Chevalier into a corner of the room, and stood there listening to him.
At length I heard the Count exclaim -
"Do as you please, Chevalier. If you have interests of your own to serve, serve them. As for myself - I am past being interested.""But why, monsieur?" the chevalier inquired.
"Why?" echoed Chatellerault, his ferocity welling up again. Then, swinging round, he came straight at me, as a bull makes a charge.
"Monsieur de Bardelys!" he blazed.
"Bardelys!" gasped Saint-Eustache in the background.
"What now?" I inquired coldly, turning from my friends.
"All that you said may be true, and I may be doomed, but I swear before God that you shall not go unpunished.""I think, monsieur, that you run a grave risk of perjuring yourself!"I laughed.
"You shall render me satisfaction ere we part!" he cried.
"If you do not deem that paper satisfaction enough, then, monsieur, forgive me, but your greed transcends all possibility of being ever satisfied.""The devil take your paper and your estates! What shall they profit me when I am dead?""They may profit your heirs," I suggested.
"How shall that profit me?"
"That is a riddle that I cannot pretend to elucidate.""You laugh, you knave!" he snorted. Then, with an abrupt change of manner, "You do not lack for friends," said he. "Beg one of these gentlemen to act for you, and if you are a man of honour let us step out into the yard and settle the matter."I shook my head.
"I am so much a man of honour as to be careful with whom I cross steel. I prefer to leave you to His Majesty's vengeance; his headsman may be less particular than am I. No, monsieur, on the whole, I do not think that I can fight you."His face grew a shade paler. It became grey; the jaw was set, and the eyes were more out of symmetry than I had ever seen them. Their glance approached what is known in Italy as the mal'occhio, and to protect themselves against the baneful influences of which men carry charms. A moment he stood so, eyeing me. Then, coming a step nearer -"You do not think that you can fight me, eh? You do not think it?
Pardieu! How shall I make you change your mind? To the insult of words you appear impervious. You imagine your courage above dispute because by a lucky accident you killed La Vertoile some years ago and the fame of it has attached to you." In the intensity of his anger he was breathing heavily, like a man overburdened. "You have been living ever since by the reputation which that accident gave you. Let us see if you can die by it, Monsieur de Bardelys." And, leaning forward, he struck me on the breast, so suddenly and so powerfully - for he was a man of abnormal strength - that I must have fallen but that La Fosse caught me in his arms.
"Kill him!" lisped the classic-minded fool. "Play Theseus to this bull of Marathon."Chatellerault stood back, his hands on his hips, his head inclined towards his right shoulder, and an insolent leer of expectancy upon his face.
"Will that resolve you?" he sneered.
"I will meet you," I answered, when I had recovered breath. "But Iswear that I shall not help you to escape the headsman."He laughed harshly.
"Do I not know it?" he mocked. "How shall killing you help me to escape? Come, messieurs, sortons. At once!""Soir," I answered shortly; and thereupon we crowded from the room, and went pele-mele down the passage to the courtyard at the back.
