enemies. There was no reason why
I should have been at this wild feast at all, I a prisoner, accused
falsely of being a spy, save because of some plot by which I was to have
fresh suffering and some one else be benefited--though how that could be
I could not guess at first.

But soon I understood everything. Presently I heard a young gentleman
say to Duvarney over my shoulder:

"Eating comfits and holding yarn--that was his doing at your manor when
Doltaire came hunting him."

"He has dined at your table, Lancy," broke out Duvarney hotly.

"But never with our ladies," was the biting answer.

"Should prisoners make conditions?" was the sharp, insolent retort.

The insult was conspicuous, and trouble might have followed, but that
Doltaire came between them, shifting the attack.

"Prisoners, my dear Duvarney," said he, "are most delicate and exacting;
they must be fed on wine and milk. It is an easy life, and hearts grow
soft for them. As thus--Indeed, it is most sad: so young and gallant; in
speech, too, so confiding! And if we babble all our doings to him, think
you he takes it seriously? No, no--so gay and thoughtless, there is a
thoroughfare from ear to ear, and all's lost on the other side. Poor
simple gentleman, he is a claimant on our courtesy, a knight without a
sword, a guest without the power to leave us--he shall make conditions,
he shall have his caprice. La, la! my dear Duvarney and my Lancy!"

He spoke in a clear, provoking tone, putting a hand upon the shoulder of
each young gentleman as he talked, his eyes wandering over me idly, and
beyond me. I saw that he was now sharpening the sickle to his office.
His next words made this more plain to me:

"And if a lady gives a farewell sign to one she favours for the moment,
shall not the prisoner take it as his own?" (I knew he was recalling
Alixe's farewell gesture to me at the manor.) "Who shall gainsay our
peacock? Shall the guinea cock? The golden crumb was thrown to the
guinea cock, but that's no matter. The peacock clatters of the crumb."
At that he spoke an instant in Duvarney's ear. I saw the lad's face
flush, and he looked at me angrily.

Then I knew his object: to provoke a quarrel between this young
gentleman and myself, which might lead to evil ends; and the Intendant's
share in the conspiracy was to revenge himself upon the Seigneur for his
close friendship with the Governor. If Juste Duvarney were killed in the
duel which they foresaw, so