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It is his lie, not mine. I did not know the Comte de Mar was dead, and this Lucas of yours is handsome enough for a count. I came here, as I told you, in curiosity concerning Maître Jacques's story. I had no idea of seeing you or any living man. It is the truth, monsieur." "I believe you," Yeux-gris answered. "You have an honest face. You came into my house uninvited.
The wretch scrambled shakily to his feet, and stood clutching the door-jamb and eying Gervais, terror writ large on his chalky countenance. Yet there was more than terror in his face; there was the look you see in the eyes of a trapped animal that watches its chance to bite. Yeux-gris cried out: "You dare not send that man, Gervais." "Why not?"
The bitterness I felt over my rebuff must have been in my voice and face, for Gervais spoke abruptly: "And do you hate him for that?" "Nay," said I, churlishly enough. "It is his to do as he chooses. But I hate the Comte de Mar for striking me a foul blow." "The Comte de Mar!" exclaimed Yeux-gris. "His son." "He has no son." "But he has, monsieur. The Comte de " "He is dead," said Yeux-gris.
Yeux-gris answered it with cold politeness: "That Félix Broux may pass out." "By Heaven, he shall not!" "You gave your word you would leave him to me. Did you lie?" "I do leave him to you!" Gervais thundered. "I would slit his impudent throat; but since you love him, you may have him to eat out of your plate and sleep in your bosom. I will put up with it.
"Which do you wish to see slain?" demanded the black Gervais. I answered quite truthfully: "Monsieur, I shall be pleased either way." I know not how he relished the answer, for Yeux-gris cried out at once: "Bravo, Félix, you are a paragon! I have not wit enough to know whether you are as simple as sunshine or as deep as a well, but I love you."
You come from Navarre's camp, from M. de Rosny!" "Aye. I have outwitted more than one man." "Mordieu! I was right to hate you!" Lucas laughed. Yeux-gris blazed out: "Traitor and thief! You stole the money. I said that from the first. You drove us from the house. How you and Grammont " "Came together? Very simple," Lucas answered with easy insolence.
"You lie." Again he gripped me by the shoulder, gripped till the tears stood in my eyes. "No one, monsieur; I swear it." "You will not speak! I'll make you, by Heaven." He seized my thumb and wrist to bend one back on the other, torture with strength such as his. Yeux-gris sprang off the table. "Let alone, Gervais! The boy's honest." "He is a spy." "He is a fool of a country boy.
Yeux-gris burst into joyous laughter. "He said my house belonged to the Béthunes! Well played, Jacques! You owe that gallant lie to me, Gervais, and the pains I took to make him think us Navarre's men. He is heart and soul for Henri Quatre. Did he say, perchance, that in this very courtyard Coligny fell?"
It was no longer a mere question of my liberty. I was all eyes and ears for whatever information I could gather. Yeux-gris spoke to me, for the first time gravely: "This is not a time when folks take pleasure-trips to Paris. What brought you?" "I used to be Monsieur's page down at St. Quentin," I answered, deeming the straight truth best.
When he opens to you, say, 'For the Cause, and draw a crown with your finger in the air." "Madame," M. Étienne cried, "I hope the day may come when I shall make you suitable acknowledgements. My name " "I prefer not to know it," she interrupted, glancing up at him. "I will call you M. Yeux-gris; that is enough. As for acknowledgments pooh! I am overpaid in the sport it has been."
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