came up
suddenly to Peyrot's side, making him jump.

"Oh, it's you, my little gentleman!" he exclaimed, smiling to show all
his firm teeth, as white and even as a court beauty's. He looked in the
best of humours, as was not wonderful, considering that he was engaged
in fastening up in the breast of his doublet something hard and lumpy.
M. Etienne held up a packet for me to see, before Peyrot's shielding
body; it was tied with red cord and sealed with a spread falcon over the
tiny letters, _Je reviendrai_. In the corner was written very small,
_St. Q._ Smiling, he put it into the breast of his doublet.

"Monsieur," my scamp said to him with close lips that the room might not
hear, "you are a gentleman. If there ever comes a day when You-know-who
is down and you are up, I shall be pleased to serve you as well as I
have served him."

"I hanker not for such service as you have given him," M. Etienne
answered. Peyrot's eyes twinkled brighter than ever.

"I have said it. I will serve you as vigourously as I have served him.
Bear me in mind, monsieur."

"Come, Felix," was all my lord's answer.

Peyrot sprang forward to detain us.

"Monsieur, will you not dine with me? Both of you, I beg. I will have
every wine the cellar affords."

"No," said M. Etienne, carelessly, not deigning to anger; "but there is
my dinner for you, an you like. I have paid for it, but I have other
business than to eat it."

Bidding a waiter serve M. Peyrot, he walked from the room without other
glance at him. A slight shade fell over the reckless, scampish face; he
was a moment vexed that we scorned him. Merely vexed, I think; shamed
not at all; he knew not the feel of it. Even in the brief space I
watched him, as I passed to the door, his visage cleared, and he sat him
down contentedly to finish M. Etienne's veal broth.

My lord paced along rapidly and gladly, on fire to be before Monsieur
with the packet. But one little cloud, transient as Peyrot's, passed
across his lightsome countenance.

"I would that knave were of my rank," he said. "I had not left him
without slapping a glove in his face."

That Peyrot had come off scot-free put me out of patience, too, but I
regretted the gold we had given him more than the wounds we had not. The
money, on the contrary, troubled M. Etienne no whit; what he had never
toiled for he parted with lightly.

We came to our gates and went straightway up the stairs to Monsieur's
cabinet. He sprang to mee