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Updated: June 14, 2025
Was he about to repent him of his sins, and to have done with villainy and treachery; was he minded to slit no more gullets in the future, be faithful to the hand that paid him, and lead a godlier life? Peste! That was a thing that would nowise suit Monsieur de Garnache's ends just then. If Arsenio had a mind to reform, let him postpone that reformation until Garnache should have done with him.
Garnache's long chin sank on to his breast, and he stood there, his eyes upon the tablecloth, his thoughts with the poor innocent child who waited at Condillac, so full of trust and faith and loyalty to this betrothed of hers who had come home with a wife out of Italy. And then, while he stood so and Florimond was regarding him curiously, the door opened, and the host appeared.
The Seneschal peered at him curiously through shortsighted eyes. "I do not think I have ever seen a dirtier ruffian," said he. "I like his nose," said madame quietly. "It is the nose of an intrepid man." "It reminds me of Garnache's," laughed the Seneschal. "You flatter the Parisian," commented Marius.
And now, Fortunio seeing what was toward, and guessing Garnache's intentions, sought by a rush to force his way into the Chamber. But Garnache was ready for him. There was a harsh grind of steel on steel, culminating in a resounding lest, and Fortunio was back in the guard-room, whither he had leapt to save his skin.
They went, madame with bowed head, her stubborn pride broken at last as the Abbot of Saint Francis had so confidently promised her. After them went the Abbot and the lackeys of Florimond, and Fortunio went with these to carry out Garnache's orders that the men of the Dowager's garrison be sent packing at once, leaving with the Parisian, in the great hall, just Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye.
I will go to Monsieur de Garnache." The Seneschal stared at him with contemptuously pouting underlip. "You will go?" said he. "And what can you do alone? Who are you?" he asked. "I am Monsieur de Garnache's servant." "A lackey? Ah!" And Tressan turned aside and resumed his orders as if Rabecque did not exist or had never spoken. "To the Champs aux Capuchins!" said he. "At the gallop, Pommier!
The secretary trembled in his every limb; his eyes shunned his master's as his master's had shunned Garnache's awhile ago. The Seneschal was enjoying himself. If he had been bullied and browbeaten, here, at least, was one upon whom he, in his turn, might taste the joys of bullying and browbeating. "You lazy, miserable calf," he stormed, "I might be better served by a wooden image. Go!
"I sought to do the best for my principal. As it is, I wash my hands of all responsibility, and by all means let us engage, sirs." They disposed themselves accordingly, Gaubert engaging Courthon, on Garnache's right hand, and Garnache himself falling on guard to receive the attack of Sanguinetti.
Garnache's sword rasped out, an oath rattled from his clenched teeth, and he fell on guard. The men paused, and took his measure. Marius urged them on, as if they had been a pack of dogs. "At him!" he snapped, his finger pointing, his handsome eyes flashing angrily. "Cut him down!" They moved; but mademoiselle moved at the same moment. She sprang before them, between their swords and their prey.
She laughed as at an excellent jest, and Marius, overhearing Garnache's retort as he was returning to resume his seat, joined in her laugh. "Paris is a fine whetstone for a man's wits," said he. Garnache shrugged his shoulders.
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