spoiled child. "M. Anne does not seem to understand," he said with
mock courtesy, "that I have the honour to welcome him to my house the
Hotel Bezers, Rue de Platriere."

"The Hotel Bezers! Rue de Platriere!" I cried confusedly. "But
Blaise Bure told us that this was the Rue St. Antoine!"

"Ah!" he replied as if slowly enlightened--the hypocrite! "Ah! I
see!" and he smiled grimly. "So you have made the acquaintance of
Blaise Bure, my excellent master of the horse! Worthy Blaise! Indeed,
indeed, now I understand. And you thought, you whelps," he continued,
and as he spoke his tone changed strangely, and he fixed us suddenly
with angry eyes, "to play a rubber with me! With me, you imbeciles!
You thought the wolf of Bezers could be hunted down like any hare!
Then listen, and I will tell you the end of it. You are now in my
house and absolutely at my mercy. I have two score men within call who
would cut the throats of three babes at the breast, if I bade them!
Ay," he, added, a wicked exultation shining in his eyes, "they would,
and like the job!"

He was going on to say more, but I interrupted him. The rage I felt,
caused as much by the thought of our folly as by his arrogance, would
let me be silent no longer. "First, M. de Bezers, first," I broke out
fiercely, my words leaping over one another in my haste, "a word with
you! Let me tell you what I think of you! You are a treacherous
hound, Vidame! A cur! a beast! And I spit upon you! Traitor and
assassin!" I shouted, "is that not enough? Will nothing provoke you?
If you call yourself a gentleman, draw!"

He shook his head; he was still smiling, still unmoved. "I do not do
my own dirty work," he said quietly, "nor stint my footmen of their
sport, boy."

"Very well!" I retorted. And with the words I drew my sword, and
sprang as quick as lightning to the curtain by which he had entered.
"Very well, we will kill you first!" I cried wrathfully, my eye on his
eye, and every savage passion in my breast aroused, "and take our
chance with the lackeys afterwards! Marie! Croisette!" I cried
shrilly, "on him, lads!"

But they did not answer! They did not move or draw. For the moment
indeed the man was in my power. My wrist was raised, and I had my
point at his breast, I could have run him through by a single thrust.
And I hated him. Oh, how I hated him! But he did not stir. Had he
spoken, had he moved so much as an eyelid, or drawn back his