His
short, stout frame was quivering with passion and fear, his broad
face distorted by his hideous grimaces of rage. And then, while
yet his ravings were in full flow, the door opened, and in stepped
the airy Chevalier de Saint-Eustache.
He stood still, amazed, beneath the lintel - marvelling to see all
this anger, and abashed at beholding me. His sudden appearance
reminded me that I had last seen him at Grenade in the Count's
company, on the day of my arrest. The surprise it had occasioned
me now returned upon seeing him so obviously and intimately seeking
Chatellerault.
The Count turned on him in his anger.
"Well, popinjay?" he roared. "What do you want with me?"
"Monsieur le Comte!" cried the other, in blent indignation and
reproach.
"You will perceive that you are come inopportunely," I put in.
"Monsieur de Chatellerault is not quite himself."
But my speech again drew his attention to my presence; and the wonder
grew in his eyes at finding me there, for to him I was still Lesperon
the rebel, and he marvelled naturally that I should be at large.
Then in the corridor there was a sound of steps and voices, and as I
turned I beheld in the doorway, behind Saint-Eustache, the faces of
Castelroux, Mironsac, and my old acquaintance, the babbling,
irresponsible buffoon, La Fosse. From Mironsac he had heard of my
presence in Toulouse, and, piloted by Castelroux, they were both
come to seek me out. I'll swear it was not thus they had looked to
find me.
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