ncarnate!

He recovered his composure very quickly, however; and turned carelessly
towards the door. "If you will follow me," he said, "I will see you
disposed of. You may have to complain of your lodging--I have other
things to think of to-night than hospitality, But you shall not need to
complain of your supper."

He drew aside the curtain as he spoke, and passed into the next room
before us, not giving a thought apparently to the possibility that we
might strike him from behind. There certainly was an odd quality
apparent in him at times which seemed to contradict what we knew of him.

The room we entered was rather long than wide, hung with tapestry, and
lighted by silver lamps. Rich plate, embossed, I afterwards learned,
by Cellini the Florentine--who died that year I remember--and richer
glass from Venice, with a crowd of meaner vessels filled with meats and
drinks covered the table; disordered as by the attacks of a numerous
party. But save a servant or two by the distant dresser, and an
ecclesiastic at the far end of the table, the room was empty.

The priest rose as we entered, the Vidame saluting him as if they had
not met that day. "You are welcome M. le Coadjuteur," he said; saying
it coldly, however, I thought. And the two eyed one another with
little favour; rather as birds of prey about to quarrel over the spoil,
than as host and guest. Perhaps the Coadjutor's glittering eyes and
great beak-like nose made me think of this.

"Ho! ho!" he said, looking piercingly at us--and no doubt we must
have seemed a miserable and dejected crew enough. "Who are these? Not
the first-fruits of the night, eh?"

The Vidame looked darkly at him. "No," he answered brusquely. "They
are not. I am not particular out of doors, Coadjutor, as you know, but
this is my house, and we are going to supper. Perhaps you do not
comprehend the distinction. Still it exists--for me," with a sneer.

This was as good as Greek to us. But I so shrank from the priest's
malignant eyes, which would not quit us, and felt so much disgust
mingled with my anger that when Bezers by a gesture invited me to sit
down, I drew back. "I will not eat with you," I said sullenly;
speaking out of a kind of dull obstinacy, or perhaps a childish
petulance.

It did not occur to me that this would pierce the Vidame's armour. Yet
a dull red showed for an instant in his cheek, and he eyed me with a
look, that was not all ferocity, though the v