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Each word was deliberately and carefully measured. "Death of my life!" roared the governor, upon his feet. The Chevalier reached over and caught De Lauson's sleeve. "Hush, Monsieur; what Monsieur de Leviston says is . . . true." He got up, white as the broken pipe that lay at the side of his plate. Under the chair was his hat. He reached for it.
"Your Excellency will pardon me," said De Leviston; "but I find, it impossible to sit at this table till another person leaves it." Surprise and consternation lay written on every face. The Chevalier lowered his pipe, and looked from one face to another. He was so tired with the labor of the day, that he had forgotten all about himself and his history. The governor sat rigid in his chair.
If he lives, I shall keep in touch with your future conduct, Monsieur; so take good care of yourself." "De Leviston will not die. Such men as he do not die honestly in bed. But he was only a puppet in this instance." "A puppet? Explain." "There was another who prompted him from behind." "Who?" sharply. "I am afraid that at present I can not name him." "D'Hérouville?
The harbour was blockaded by ten ships of war, under Sir Richard Leviston, and the forts at the entrance, Rincorran and Castlenepark, being taken by cannonade, the investment on all sides was complete. Don Juan's messengers found O'Neil and O'Donnell busily engaged on their own frontiers, but both instantly resolved to muster all their strength for a winter campaign in Munster.
If I have applied epithets to you, it has been done openly and frankly. I have not touched you over some one's shoulder, as in the De Leviston case. I entertain for you the greatest hatred. It will be a pleasure some day to kill you." The Chevalier looked at the coin in his hand, at D'Hérouville, then back at the coin. "Believe me or not, Monsieur.
Mayenne, Lorraine, Guise, Nemours, Mercoeur, Montpensier, Joyeuse, Epernon, Brissac, D'Arlincourt, Balagny, Rochefort, Villeroy, Villars, Montespan, Leviston, Beauvillars, and countless others, figured in the great financier's terrible account-book, from Mayenne, set down at the cool amount of three and a half millions, to Beauvoir or Beauvillars at the more modest price of a hundred and sixty thousand livres.
D'Hérouville began to understand. "He is my lawful son." "Ah! then you have gone to Parliament and had him legitimatized? That is royal on your part, believe me." "The son of my wife, Monsieur." "Then, what the devil . . . !" "And when Monsieur de Leviston accused my son of not knowing who his mother was," continued the old man, coldly and evenly, which signified a deadly wrath, "you laughed."
Being without excuse, the Chevalier joined him, and together they proceeded toward the quarters. Sister Benie stared after them till they had disappeared around the corner of the building. "Chevalier," said the vicomte, "do you remember Henri de Leviston?" "De Leviston?" The Chevalier frowned. "Yes; I recollect him. Why?" "He is here." "In Quebec?" "Yes.
He took his chair, filled his glass and lit his pipe. He waved aside all food, stating that he had eaten his supper in the lower town. No sooner had he lighted his pipe than De Leviston rose, shoving back his chair noisily. A cold, sneering contempt marked his swart face. "What is the matter, Monsieur de Leviston?" asked the governor, mildly.
The vicomte slapped D'Hérouville in the face. "Damnation!" D'Hérouville fell back. Victor turned to De Leviston. "I will waive the question of gentleman," and he struck De Leviston even as the vicomte had struck D'Hérouville. "Curse you, I will accompany you!" roared De Leviston. "Very good," returned the poet. "Vicomte, there is a fine place back of the Ursulines. Let us go there."
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