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Weyman, Stanley John, 1855-1928

"Under the Red Robe"

This was plain speaking
with a vengeance! How dare you? How dare you say that I am
false to the hand that pays me?'
I thought that he would blench, but he did not. He stood up
stiff as a poker.
'I do not say; I ask!' he replied, facing me squarely, and
slapping his fist into his open hand to drive home his words the
better. 'I ask you whether you are playing the traitor to the
Cardinal, or to these two women? It is a simple question.'
I fairly choked. 'You impudent scoundrel!' I said.
'Steady, steady!' he replied. 'Pitch sticks where it belongs,
and nowhere else. But that is enough. I see which it is, M. le
Capitaine; this way a moment, by your leave.'
And in a very cavalier fashion he took his officer by the arm,
and drew him into a sidewalk, leaving me to stand in the sun,
bursting with anger and spleen. The gutter-bred rascal! That
such a man should insult me, and with impunity! In Paris, I
might have made him fight, but here it was impossible.
I was still foaming with rage when they returned.
'We have come to a determination,' the Lieutenant said, tugging
his grey moustachios, and standing like a ramrod.


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