Now, if his attitude filled me with astonishment and apprehension,
consider how these feelings were heightened by his words.
"Monsieur de Lesperon, I can but express amazement at your effrontery.
If we have been acquainted in the past, do you think that is a
sufficient reason for me to take your hand now that you have placed
yourself in a position which renders it impossible for His Majesty's
loyal servants to know you?"
I fell back a pace, my mind scarce grasping yet the depths of this
inexplicable attitude.
"This to me, Chatellerault?" I gasped.
"To you?" he blazed, stirred to a sudden passion. "What else did
you expect, Monsieur de Lesperon?"
I had it in me to give him the lie, to denounce him then for a low,
swindling trickster. I understood all at once the meaning of this
wondrous make-believe. From Saint-Eustache he had gathered the
mistake there was, and for his wager's sake he would let the error
prevail, and hurry me to the scaffold. What else might I have
expected from the man that had lured me into such a wager - a wager
which the knowledge he possessed had made him certain of winning?
Would he who had cheated at the dealing of the cards neglect an
opportunity to cheat again during the progress of the game?
As I have said, I had it in my mind to cry out that he lied - that
I was not Lesperon; that he knew I was Bardelys. But the futility
of such an outcry came to me simultaneously with the thought of it.
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