Apparently, too, he was on very intimate terms with the Count, for
in raising my glance I had caught him in the act of leaning over to
whisper familiarly in Chatellerault's ear.
Their eyes - indeed, for that matter the eyes of the entire company
--were turned in my direction.
Perhaps it was not a surprising thing that Chatellerault should gaze
upon me in that curious fashion, for was it not probable that he
had heard that I was dead? Besides, the fact that I was without a
sword, and that at my side stood a King's officer, afforded evidence
enough of my condition, and well might Chatellerault stare at
beholding me so manifestly a prisoner.
Even as I watched him, he appeared to start at something that
Saint-Eustache was saying, and a curious change spread over his face.
Its whilom expression had been rather one of dismay; for, having
believed me dead, he no doubt accounted his wager won, whereas seeing
me alive had destroyed that pleasant conviction. But now it took on
a look of relief and of something that suggested malicious cunning.
"That," said Castelroux in my ear, "is the King's commissioner."
Did I not know it? I never waited to answer him, but, striding across
the room, I held out my hand over the table - to Chatellerault.
"My dear Comte," I cried, "you are most choicely met."
I would have added more, but there was something in his attitude
that silenced me. He had turned half from me, and stood now, hand
on hip, his great head thrown back and tilted towards his shoulder,
his expression one of freezing and disdainful wonder.
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