"
"Why do you speak of him as unworthy? Are you of the same opinion
as my father?"
"Aye, and with better cause."
"You know him well?"
"Know him? Pardieu, he is my worst enemy. A worn-out libertine;
a sneering, cynical misogynist; a nauseated reveller; a hateful
egotist. There is no more unworthy person, I'll swear, in all
France. Peste! The very memory of the fellow makes me sick.
Let us talk of other things."
But although I urged it with the best will and the best intentions
in the world, I was not to have my way. The air became suddenly
heavy with the scent of musk, and the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache
stood before us, and forced the conversation once more upon the
odious topic of Monsieur de Bardelys.
The poor fool came with a plan of campaign carefully considered,
bent now upon overthrowing me with the knowledge he would exhibit,
and whereby he looked to encompass my humiliation before his cousin.
"Speaking of Bardelys, Monsieur de Lesperon--"
"My dear Chevalier, we were no longer speaking of him."
He smiled darkly. "Let us speak of him, then."
"But are there not a thousand more interesting things that we might
speak of?"
This he took for a fresh sign of fear, and so he pressed what he
accounted his advantage.
"Yet have patience; there is a point on which perhaps you can give
me some information."
"Impossible," said I.
"Are you acquainted with the Duchesse de Bourgogne?"
"I was," I answered casually, and as casually I added, "Are you?"
"Excellently well," he replied unhesitatingly.
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