thought of that as he stood there, looking in at me;
and though I knew I ought to hate him, I admired him in spite of all.

Presently he said to Gabord, "You'll come to me at noon to-morrow, and
see you bring good news. He breathes?"

Gabord put a hand on my chest and at my neck, and said at once, "Breath
for balloons--aho!"

Doltaire threw his cloak over his shoulder and walked away, his
footsteps sounding loud in the passages. Gabord began humming to himself
as he tied the bandages, and then he reached down for the knife to cut
the flying strings. I could see this out of a little corner of my eye.
When he did not find it, he settled back on his haunches and looked at
me. I could feel his lips puffing out, and I was ready for the "Poom!"
that came from him. Then I could feel him stooping over me, and his
hot strong breath in my face. I was so near to unconsciousness at that
moment by a sudden anxiety that perhaps my feigning had the look of
reality. In any case, he thought me unconscious and fancied that he
had taken the knife away with him; for he tucked in the strings of the
bandage. Then, lifting my head, he held the flask to my lips; for which
I was most grateful--I was dizzy and miserably faint.

I think I came to with rather more alacrity than was wise, but he was
deceived, and his first words were, "Ho, ho! the devil's knocking; who's
for home, angels?"

It was his way to put all things allusively, using strange figures and
metaphors. Yet, when one was used to him and to them, their potency
seemed greater than polished speech and ordinary phrase.

He offered me more brandy, and then, without preface, I asked him the
one question which sank back on my heart like a load of ice even as I
sent it forth. "Is he alive?" I inquired. "Is Monsieur Juste Duvarney
alive?"

With exasperating coolness he winked an eye, to connect the event with
what he knew of the letter I had sent to Alixe, and, cocking his head,
he blew out his lips with a soundless laugh, and said:

"To whisk the brother off to heaven is to say good-bye to sister and
pack yourself to Father Peter."

"For God's sake, tell me, is the boy dead?" I asked, my voice cracking
in my throat.

"He's not mounted for the journey yet," he answered, with a shrug, "but
the Beast is at the door."

I plied my man with questions, and learned that they had carried Juste
into the palace for dead, but found life in him, and straightway used
all means to save him