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Updated: June 14, 2025
It came on the morrow of All Saints. On that Day of the Dead, Arsenio, whose rearing had been that of a true son of Mother Church, was stirred by the memory of his earthly mother, who had died some three years before. He was silent and moody, and showed little responsiveness to Garnache's jesting humour. Garnache, wondering what might be toward in the fellow's mind, watched him closely.
The girl seemed to experience a difficulty in answering. Her eyes roved to Garnache's, and fell away in affright before their glitter. That man's glance seemed to read her very mind, she thought; and suddenly the reflection that had terrified her became her hope. If it were as she deemed it, what matter what she said? He would know the truth, in spite of all.
That was the conclusion they promptly arrived at, and however greatly they might be dismayed by the appearance of this ally of Florimond's, yet the conclusion heartened them anew. But scarce had they arrived at it when Monsieur de Garnache's crisp voice came swiftly to dispel it.
Marius cast his hat and cloak on the chair where Garnache's had been left. The Parisian's hat and cloak, he naturally assumed to belong to his brother. The smashed flagon and the mess of wine upon the floor he scarce observed, setting it down to some clumsiness, either his brother's or a servant's. They both drank, Marius in silence, the captain with a toast.
He was sorrow-stricken that the circumstance should discompose Monsieur de Garnache; he was elaborate in his explanations of how it happened that he could place no vehicle at Monsieur de Garnache's disposal so elaborate that it is surprising Monsieur de Garnache's suspicions should not have been aroused.
Here Marius was consoled to find some men of the garrison of Condillac a half-score, or so all more or less armed, surrounding the horses of Garnache and his lackey. At sight of the odd group that now appeared those ruffians stood at gaze, surprised, and with suspicions aroused by Garnache's naked sword, ready for anything their master might demand of them.
"Of all those names the one I should opine might fit him best, but for his ugliness, is that of Marie," answered the foreigner, leering, and with a contemptuous shrug he turned again to mount the carriage. At that all Garnache's self-control deserted him, and he did a thing deplorable.
After all, thought Monsieur de Condillac, they need go no farther than that doorway; they must have appreciated the situation by now; and he was confident they would have the sense to hold themselves in readiness for a rush in the moment of Garnache's mounting. But Garnache's next order shattered that last hope. "Rebecque," said he, without turning his head, "go and lock them in."
A vigorous, frantic kick with both legs at once released him, and he felt himself slowly re-ascending to the surface. It has been often said that a drowning man in his struggles sees his whole life mirrored before him. In the instants of Garnache's ascent through the half stagnant waters of that moat he had reviewed the entire situation and determined upon the course he should pursue.
And she had provided for it as soon as she heard of Garnache's arrival by informing mademoiselle that should she be sent for, she must tell the gentleman from Paris that it was her wish to remain at Condillac. Mademoiselle had incontinently refused, and madame, to win her compliance, had resorted to threats.
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