M. le Comte."

"Nay; he believed me guilty."

"But, monsieur--"

"You may not say 'but' to me."

"Pardon, monsieur. Am I to tell Vigo monsieur is gone?"

"Yes, tell him." His lip quivered; he struggled hard for steadiness.
"You will go to M. le Duc, Felix, and rise in his favour, for it was you
saved his life. Then tell him this from me--that some day, when I have
made me worthy to enter his presence, then will I go to him and beg his
forgiveness on my knees. And now farewell."

He slipped away into the darkness.

I stood hesitating for a moment. Then I followed my lord.

He slackened his pace as he heard footsteps overtake him, and where a
beam of light shone out from an open door he wheeled about, thinking me
a footpad.

"You, Felix?"

"Yes, monsieur; I go with M. le Comte."

"I have not permitted you."

"Then must I go in despite. Monsieur is wounded; I cannot leave him to
go unsquired."

"There are lackeys to hire. I bade you seek M. le Duc."

"Is not monsieur a thought unreasonable? I cannot be in two places at
once. Monsieur can send a letter. The duke has Vigo and a household. I
go with M. le Comte."

"Oh," he cried, "you are a faithful servant! We are ridden to death by
our faithful servants, we St. Quentins. Myself, I prefer fleas!" He
added, growing angrier, "Will you leave me?"

"No, monsieur," said I.

He glowered at me and I think he had some notion of chasing me away with
his sword. But since his dignity could not so stoop, he growled:

"Come, then, if you choose to come unasked and most unwelcome!"

With this he walked on a yard ahead of me, never turning his head nor
saying a word, I following meekly, wondering whither, and devoutly
hoping it might be to supper. Presently I observed that we were in a
better quarter of the town, and before long we came to a broad,
well-lighted inn, whence proceeded a merry chatter and rattle of dice.
M. Etienne with accustomed feet turned into the court at the side, and
seizing upon a drawer who was crossing from door to door despatched him
for the landlord. Mine host came, fat and smiling, unworried by the hard
times, greeted Yeux-gris with acclaim as "this dear M. le Comte,"
wondered at his long absence and bloody shirt, and granted with all
alacrity his three demands of a supper, a surgeon, and a bed. I stood
back, ill at ease, aching at the mention of supper, and wondering
whether I were to be driven off like an obtrusive puppy. But when M. l