But I restrained myself, I resigned myself to be
misunderstood. What choice had I?
"Monsieur de Saint-Eustache," said I very coldly, and looking him
straight between his close-set eyes, "I have permitted you many
liberties, but there is one that I cannot permit any one - and, much
as I honour you, I can make no exception in your favour. That is
to interfere in my concerns and presume to dictate to me the manner
in which I shall conduct them. Be good enough to bear that in your
memory."
In a moment he was all servility. The sneer passed out of his face,
the arrogance out of his demeanour. He became as full of smiles
and capers as the meanest sycophant.
"You will forgive me, monsieur!" he cried, spreading his hands, and
with the humblest smile in the world. "I perceive that I have taken
a great liberty; yet you have misunderstood its purport. I sought
to sound you touching the wisdom of a step upon which I have
ventured."
"That is, monsieur?" I asked, throwing back my head, with the scent
of danger breast high.
"I took it upon myself to-day to mention the fact that you are alive
and well to one who had a right, I thought, to know of it, and who
is coming hither tomorrow."
"That was a presumption you may regret," said I between my teeth.
"To whom do you impart this information?"
"To your friend, Monsieur de Marsac," he answered, and through his
mask of humility the sneer was again growing apparent. "He will
be here tomorrow," he repeated.
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