"You speak in riddles."
"Not to you. Behind De Leviston you struck first; now from behind a
drunken soldier. It was you all the time. You tricked us cleverly.
You were such a good fellow, laughing, witty, debonair. For my part, I
would have sworn that D'Hérouville was the man. Besides you, Monsieur,
D'Hérouville is a tyro, a Mazarin to a Machiavelli."
"You flatter me. But why not D'Hérouville instead of me?"
"Monsieur, your very audacity betrayed you. Last night you put on the
grey cloak. A log spurted a flame, and at once I remembered all."
"Indeed," ironically.
"Yes. You knocked a priest into the gutter that night as you were
flying from the scene of your crime. I was that priest. But for the
cloak and your remarkable nerve in putting it on, I should have
remained in total darkness."
"Beginning with a certain day, you will ever remain in darkness." The
vicomte's face was not very pleasant just then.
"The first time you annoy Monsieur le Chevalier, who is the legitimate
son of the Marquis de Périgny. . . ."
"Are you quite sure?" the old banter awakening. Suddenly he stared
into the priest's face. "My faith, but that would be droll! What is
your interest in the Chevalier's welfare? . . . They say the marquis
was a gay one in his youth, and handsome, and had a way with the women.
Yes, yes; that would be more than droll. You are quite sure of the
Chevalier's standing?"
"So sure, Monsieur," said Brother Jacques, "that if you continue to
annoy him I shall denounce you."
"The marquis will die some day. How would it please your priestly ear
to be called 'Monsieur le Marquis'?"
"Annoy either the Chevalier or Madame de Brissac, and I will denounce
you. That is all I have to say to you, Monsieur. To a man of your
adroit accomplishments it should be enough. I have no interest in the
Périgny family save a friendly one."
"I dare say." The vicomte let his gaze fall till the spider came
within vision. He put a finger under it, and the insect began to climb
frantically toward its web.
"Thus, you see there will be no duel between you and the Chevalier."
The vicomte turned and looked out of the window; moonlight and glooms
and falling leaves. He remained there for some time. Brother Jacques
waited patiently to learn the vicomte's determination. He was curious,
too, to test this man's core. Was it rotten, or hard and sound? There
was villainy, but of what kind? The helpless villainy of a Nero, or
the calculating villainy of a Tiberius? When the vicomte presented his
countenance to Brother Jacques, it had undergone a change. It was
masked with humility; all the haughtiness was gone. He plucked
nervously at his chin.