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Updated: June 10, 2025
What is it that you tell me?" "The truth," said Arsenio, with a shrug. "Any man who wilfully abides in the services of Condillac" and instinctively he lowered his voice lest the Captain or the Marquise should be within earshot , "is excommunicate." "By the Host!" swore the false Piedmontese. "I am a Christian man myself, Arsenio, and I have lived in ignorance of this thing?"
That is a fortune to some of us." Arsenio whistled. "Tell me more," said he. Garnache rose with the air of one about to depart. "I must think of it," said he, and he made shift to go. But the other's hand fell with a clenching grip upon his arm. "Of what must you think, fool?" said he. "Tell me this service you have been offered. I have a conscience that upbraids me.
Must he kill every man in Condillac before he could hope to escape? Whimsically, and almost mechanically, he set himself, in his mind, to count the men. There were twenty mercenaries all told, excluding Fortunio and himself. On Arsenio he might rely not to attack him, perhaps even to come to his assistance at the finish. That left nineteen.
He glanced stealthily around; then he sat down again, so that his mouth was close to Arsenio's ear. "The pay is beggarly here, yet I have refused a fortune offered me by another that I might remain loyal to my masters at Condillac. But this thing that you tell me alters everything. By the Host! yes." "A fortune?" sneered Arsenio. "Aye, a fortune at least, fifty pistoles.
MAY 12TH. As we were about to start this morning, the commandant, Senhor Arsenio, provided bread and meat most bountifully for my use on the way to the next station, and sent two militia soldiers as guides, instead of our Cassange corporal, who left us here.
It has a jail, and a good house for the commandant, but neither fort nor church, though the ruins of a place of worship are still standing. We were most kindly received by the commandant of Ambaca, Arsenio de Carpo, who spoke a little English. He recommended wine for my debility, and here I took the first glass of that beverage I had taken in Africa.
"I am the bearer of letters for Madame the Dowager Marquise de Condillac," was the reply; whereupon, with an arrogant nod, Fortunio bade the fellow go with him, and issued an order that his horse should be cared for. Arsenio was speaking in Garnache's ear. The man's nature was inquisitive, and he was indulging idle conjectures as to what might be the news this courier brought.
Arsenio does not dream that you come with us, so that even should he change his mind, at least we have no cause to fear a betrayal. But he will not change his mind. The prospect of fifty pistoles has rendered it immutable." She looked up at him with eyes brightened by hope and by the encouragement to count upon success which she gathered from his optimism.
On that fateful Wednesday "Battista" sought out as had now become his invariable custom his compatriot as soon as the time of his noontide rest was come, the hour at which they dined at Condillac. He found Arsenio sunning himself in the outer courtyard, for it seemed that year that as the winter approached the warmth increased. Never could man remember such a Saint Martin's Summer as was this.
"You must account for him, Arsenio," said he. "Thus?" inquired Arsenio coolly, and he passed the edge of his hand significantly across his throat. Garnache shook his head. "No," said he; "there will be no need for that. A blow over the head will suffice. Besides, it may be quieter. You will find the key of the tower in his belt.
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