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Updated: June 24, 2025
"You will not bear me malice for that poltroon's work, Étienne?" Gervais asked, more humbly than I ever thought to hear him speak. "That was a foul cut, but it was no fault of mine. I am no blackguard; I fight fair. I will kill the knave, if you like." "You are ungrateful, Gervais; he saved you when you needed saving," Yeux-gris laughed. "Faith! let him live. I forgive him.
He said it in such honest surprise and with such a steady glance that the heavy fear that had hung on me dropped from me like a dead-weight, and suddenly I turned quite dizzy and fell into the nearest chair. A dash of water in the face made me look up, to see Yeux-gris standing wet-handed by me. "Mon dieu!" he cried, "you were as white as the wall. Do you love so much this Lucas who struck you?"
"Three to two; Lucas will not fight." Lucas must be a poltroon, indeed! "But Vigo and Monsieur " I began. "Aye, they are quick enough with their swords. Your side must be quicker, that's all. If you are sudden enough you can easily kill the duke before he can draw." Talk of words like thunderbolts! All the thunder of heaven could not have whelmed me like those words. Yeux-gris and his oaths!
I had seen a sample of the League's work to-day, and I liked it not. If Mayenne were, as Yeux-gris surmised, Lucas's backer, I marvelled that my master cared to enter his house; I marvelled that he cared to send his servant there. Yet I went none the less readily for that; I was here to do his bidding.
Maybe it was the tears in my eyes, but as I lifted them to M. le Duc, I saw not him, but Yeux-gris Yeux-gris looking at me with warm good will, as he had looked when he was saving me from Gervais. I saw him, I say, plain before my eyes. The next instant there was nothing but Monsieur's face of rising impatience. I rose to my feet, and said: "Kill me, Monsieur; I cannot tell."
"Stuff!" interrupted Yeux-gris. "It is a coincidence, no more. If he were what you think, it is the very last name he would have said." This was Greek to me; I had mentioned no names but Maître Jacques's and my own. And he was their friend.
Yet it turns out for the best, since Lucas is caught and M. de Grammont dead and you cleared of suspicion." "What!" Yeux-gris cried. "What! you call me cleared!" Vigo looked at him in surprise. "You said you were innocent, M. le Comte." M. le Comte stared, without a word to answer. The equery, all unaware of having said anything unexpected, turned to the guardsman Maurice: "Well, is Lucas trussed?
"Yes, yes, of course you are grateful," she said, somewhat bored apparently by his demonstration. "Naturally one does not like to die at your age. I wish you a pleasant journey, M. Yeux-gris, and you too, you fresh-faced boy. Give me back my lantern and fare you well." "You will let us see you safe back in your hall." "I will do nothing of the sort!
I shall be myself when the knife is out. Lucas, for God's sake!" "You will die when the knife is out," said Lucas, wrenching himself free. He turned again to M. le Comte, and his eyes gleamed as he saw the blood trickling down his sleeve and the sword tremble in his hand. "Come on, then," he cried to Yeux-gris. But I sprang forward and seized the sword from M. le Comte's hand. "On guard!"
If you deem his life a precious thing, cherish it. When did you learn a taste for insolence, Étienne? Time was when you were touchy on that score." "Time never was when I did not love courage." "Oh, it is courage!" With a sneer he turned away. "Gervais," said Yeux-gris, "have the kindness to unlock the door." Gervais wheeled around, his face an angry question.
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