's shoulder, "is my very good friend. I have no secrets from
him."

The instant lift of Florimond's eyebrows was full of insolent,
supercilious disdain. Yet Marius did not fasten his quarrel upon that.
He had come to La Rochette resolved that any pretext would serve his
turn. But the sight of his brother so inflamed his jealousy that he had
now determined that the quarrel should be picked on the actual ground in
which it had its roots.

"Oh, as you will," said the Marquis coolly. "Perhaps your friend will
be seated, and you, too, my dear Marius." And he played the host to them
with a brisk charm. Setting chairs, he forced them to sit, and pressed
wine upon them.

Marius cast his hat and cloak on the chair where Garnache's had been
left. The Parisian's hat and cloak, he naturally assumed to belong to
his brother. The smashed flagon and the mess of wine upon the floor
he scarce observed, setting it down to some clumsiness, either his
brother's or a servant's. They both drank, Marius in silence, the
captain with a toast.

"Your good return, Monsieur le Marquis," said he, and Florimond thanked
him by an inclination of the head. Then, turning to Marius:

"And so," he said, "you have a garrison at Condillac. What the devil
has been taking place there? I have had some odd news of you. It would
almost seem as if you were setting up as rebels in our quiet little
corner of Dauphiny."

Marius shrugged his shoulders; his face suggested that he was
ill-humoured.

"Madame the Queen-Regent has seen fit to interfere in our concerns. We
Condillacs do not lightly brook interference."

Florimond showed his teeth in a pleasant smile.

"That is true, that is very true, Pardieu! But what warranted this
action of Her Majesty's?"

Marius felt that the time for deeds was come. This fatuous conversation
was but a futile waste of time. He set down his glass, and sitting back
in his chair he fixed his sullen black eyes full upon his half-brother's
smiling brown ones.

"I think we have exchanged compliments enough," said he, and Fortunio
wagged his head approvingly. There were too many men in the courtyard
for his liking, and the more time they waited, the more likely were they
to suffer interruption. Their aim must be to get the thing done quickly,
and then quickly to depart before an alarm could be raised. "Our trouble
at Condillac concerns Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye."

Florimond started forward, with a ready assumption of lover-