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Sabatini, Rafael, 1875-1950

"Bardelys the Magnificent; being an account of the strange wooing pursued by the Sieur Marcel de Saint-Pol, marquis of Bardelys..."

"
If he sought by that word to anger me, he failed.
"Lord Count," I answered him very quietly, "you are of an age to
know that the truth alone has power to wound. I was in that room
by accident, and when the first words of your conversation reached
me I had not been human had I not remained and strained my ears to
catch every syllable you uttered. For the rest, let me ask you,
my dear Chatellerault, since when have you become so nice that you
dare cast it at a man that he has been eavesdropping?"
"You are obscure, monsieur. What is it that you suggest?"
"I am signifying that when a man stands unmasked for a cheat, a
liar, and a thief, his own character should give him concern enough
to restrain him from strictures upon that of another."
A red flush showed through the tan of his skin, then faded and left
him livid - a very evil sight, as God lives. He flung his
heavily-feathered hat upon the table, and carried his hand to his
hilt.
"God's blood!" he cried. "You shall answer me for this."
I shook my head and smiled; but I made no sign of drawing.
"Monsieur, we must talk a while. I think that you had better."
He raised his sullen eyes to mine. Perhaps the earnest
impressiveness of my tones prevailed. Be that as it may, his
half-drawn sword was thrust back with a click, and "What have you
to say?" he asked.
"Be seated." I motioned him to a chair by the table and when he had
taken it I sat down opposite to him.


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