And now where is he? What have you done with him? He knows
much, and the sooner I know it the better. Are your people
bringing him, M. de Berault?'
'No, Monseigneur,' I stammered, with dry lips. His very good-
humour, his benignity, appalled me. I knew how terrible would be
the change, how fearful his rage, when I should tell him the
truth. And yet that I, Gil de Berault, should tremble before any
man! With that thought I spurred myself, as it were, to the
task. 'No, your Eminence,' I said, with the energy of despair.
'I have not brought him, because I have set him free.'
'Because you have--WHAT?' he exclaimed. He leaned forward as he
spoke, his hands on the arm of the chair; and his eyes growing
each instant smaller, seemed to read my soul.
'Because I have let him go,' I repeated.
'And why?' he said, in a voice like the rasping of a file.
'Because I took him unfairly,' I answered.
'Because, Monseigneur, I am a gentleman, and this task should
have been given to one who was not. I took him, if you must
know,' I continued impatiently--the fence once crossed I was
growing bolder--'by dogging a woman's steps and winning her
confidence and betraying it.
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