Bring me your book. Or, tell
me, what have you charged me for these balls?"

"Two francs," he muttered reluctantly.

"And never gave a sou, I'll swear!" I retorted. "You took the poor
devil's balls, and left him at the gate! Ay, it is rogues like you get
me a bad name!" I continued, affecting more anger than I felt--for, in
truth, I was rather pleased with my quickness in discovering the cheat.
"You steal and I bear the blame, and pay to boot! Off with you and
find the fellow, and bring him to me, or it will be the worse for you!"

Glad to escape so easily, La Trape ran to the gate; but he failed to
find his friend, and two or three days elapsed before I thought again
of the matter, such petty rogueries being ingrained in a great man's
VALETAILLE, and being no more to be removed than the hairs from a man's
arm. At the end of that time La Trape came to me, bringing the
Spaniard; who had appeared again at the gate. The stranger proved to
be a small, slight man, pale and yet brown, with quick-glancing eyes.
His dress was decent, but very poor, with more than one rent neatly
darned. He made me a profound reverence, and stood waiting, with his
cap in his hand, to be addressed; but, with all his humility, I did not
fail to detect an easiness of deportment and a propriety that did not
seem absolutely strange since he was a Spaniard, but which struck me,
nevertheless, as requiring some explanation. I asked him, civilly, who
he was. He answered that his name was Diego.

"You speak French?"

"I am of Guipuzcoa, my lord," he answered, "where we sometimes speak
three tongues."

"That is true," I said. "And it is your trade to make tennis balls?"

"No, my lord; to use them," he answered with a certain dignity.

"You are a player, then?"

"If it please your excellency."

"Where have you played?"

"At Madrid, where I was the keeper of the Duke of Segovia's court; and
at Toledo, where I frequently had the honour of playing against M. de
Montserrat."

"You are a good player?"

"If your excellency," he answered impulsively, "will give me an
opportunity--"

"Softly, softly," I said, somewhat taken aback by his earnestness.
"Granted that you are a player, you seem to have played to small
purpose.. Why are you here, my friend, and not in Madrid?"

He drew up his sleeves, and showed me that his wrists were deeply
scarred.

I shrugged my shoulders. "You have been in the hands of the Holy
Brotherhood?" I sa