No wonder, then, that the courage on which I plumed myself sank
low at sight of him; or that it was as much as I could do to
mingle with the humility of my salute some touch of the SANG
FROID of old acquaintanceship.
And perhaps that had had been better left out. For it seemed
that this man was without bowels. For a moment, while he stood
looking at me, and before he spoke to me, I gave myself up for
lost. There was a glint of cruel satisfaction in his eyes that
warned me, before he opened his mouth, what he was going to say
to me.
'I could not have made a better catch, M. de Berault,' he said,
smiling villainously, while he gently smoothed the fur of a cat
that had sprung on the table beside him. 'An old offender, and
an excellent example. I doubt it will not stop with you. But
later, we will make you the warrant for flying at higher game.'
'Monseigneur has handled a sword himself,' I blurted out. The
very room seemed to be growing darker, the air colder. I was
never nearer fear in my life.
'Yes?' he said, smiling delicately. 'And so--?'
'Will not be too hard on the failings of a poor gentleman.
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