"How so?"
"Because the Marquis is the affronted one."
"Therefore he has a right to choose."
"A right, yes. But that is not enough. The necessity to fight is on his side. His honour is hurt, not mine; I have whipped him; I am content. Now let him come to me."
"Assuredly you will not be so ungenerous."
"I do not care about journeying to Reaux to afford him satisfaction."
"Does Monsieur fear anything?"
"Vicomte, you go too far!" I cried, my pride gaining the mastery. "Since it is asked of me,--I will go."
"M. le Marquis will be grateful to you."
"A fig for his gratitude," I answered, whereupon the Vicomte shrugged his narrow shoulders, and, his errand done, took his leave of me.
When he was gone I called Michelot, to tell him of the journey I must go that night, so that he might hold himself in readiness.
"Why--if Monsieur will pardon me," quoth he, "do you go to meet the Marquis de St. Auban at St. Sulpice des Reaux by night?"
"Precisely what I asked Vilmorin. The Marquis desires it, and--what will you?--since I am going to kill the man, I can scarce do less than kill him on a spot of his own choosing."
Michelot screwed up his face and scratched at his grey beard with his huge hand.
"Does no suspicion of foul play cross your mind, Monsieur?" he inquired timidly.
"Shame on you, Michelot," I returned with some heat. "You do not yet understand the ways of gentlemen. Think you that M. de St. Auban would stoop to such a deed as that? He would be shamed for ever! Pooh, I would as soon suspect my Lord Cardinal of stealing the chalices from Nôtre Dame. Go, see to my horse. I am riding to Canaples."
As I rode out towards the château I fell to thinking, and my thoughts turning to Vilmorin, I marvelled at the part he was playing in this little comedy of a cabal against Andrea de Mancini. His tastes and instincts were of the boudoir, the ante-chamber, and the table. He wore a sword because it was so ordained by fashion, and because the hilt was convenient for the display of a jewel or two. Certainly 't was not for utility that it hung beside him, and no man had ever seen it drawn. Nature had made him the most pitiable coward begotten. Why then should he involve himself in an affair which promised bloodshed, and which must be attended by many a risk for him? There was in all this some mystery that I could not fathom.