"He'll not return, you think, you Judas!" she snarled at him, her
lean, swarthy face growing very evil to see. "But he shall - by God,
he shall! And look to your skin when he does, monsieur the catchpoll,
for, on my honour, you shall have a foretaste of hell for your
trouble in this matter."
The Chevalier smiled with much restraint. "A woman's tongue," said
he, "does no injury."
"Will a woman's arm, think you?" demanded that warlike matron. "You
musk-stinking tipstaff, I'll--"
"Anne, my love," implored the Vicomte soothingly, "I beg that you
will control yourself."
"Shall I submit to the insolence of this misbegotten vassal? Shall
I--"
"Remember rather that it does not become the dignity of your station
to address the fellow. We avoid venomous reptiles, but we do not
pause to reproach them with their venom. God made them so."
Saint-Eustache coloured to the roots of his hair, then, turning
hastily to the driver, he bade him start. He would have closed the
door with that, but that madame thrust herself forward.
That was the Chevalier's chance to be avenged. "You cannot go,"
said he.
"Cannot?" Her cheeks reddened. "Why not, monsieur Lesperon?
"I have no reasons to afford you," he answered brutally. "You
cannot go."
"Your pardon, Chevalier," I interposed. "You go beyond your rights
in seeking to prevent her. Monsieur le Vicomte is not yet convicted.
Do not, I beseech you, transcend the already odious character of your
work.
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