who
had given a toast. "Only don't let him cross me! That is all. Where is
the wench?"

"She has gone upstairs," Basterga answered with one eye on Claude. He
seemed to be unable to shake off a secret doubt of him.

"Then let her come down," Grio answered with a grin, half drunken, half
brutal, "and make her show sport. Here, you there," to the young man who
shared Claude's table, "call her down and----"

"Sit still!" Basterga growled, and he trod--Claude was almost sure of
it--on the bully's foot. "It is late, and these young gentlemen should
be at their themes. Theology, young sir," he turned to Claude with the
slightest shade of over-civility in his pompous tone, "like the pursuit
of the Alcahest, which some call the Quintessence of the Elements,
allows no rival near its throne!"

"I attend my first lecture to-morrow," Claude answered drily. And he
kept his seat. His face was red and his hand trembled. They would call
her down for their sport, would they! Not in his presence, nor again in
his absence, if he could avoid it.

Grio struck the table. "Call her down!" he ordered in a tone which
betrayed the influence of his last draught. "Do you hear!" And he looked
fiercely at Louis Gentilis, the young man who sat opposite Claude.

But Louis only looked at Basterga and grinned.

And Basterga it was plain was not in the mood to amuse himself. Whatever
the reason, the big man was no longer at his ease in Mercier's company.
Some unpleasant thought, some suspicion, born of the incident at the
"Bible and Hand," seemed to rankle in his mind, and, strive as he
would, betrayed its presence in the tone of his voice and the glance of
his eye. He was uneasy, nor could he hide his uneasiness. To the look
which Gentilis shot at him he replied by one which imperatively bade the
young man keep his seat. "Enough fooling for to-day," he said, and
stealthily he repressed Grio's resistance. "Enough! Enough! I see that
the young gentleman does not altogether understand our humours. He will
come to them in time, in time," his voice almost fawning, "and see we
mean no harm. Did I understand," he continued, addressing Claude
directly, "that your father knew Messer Blondel?"

"Who is now Syndic? My uncle did," Claude answered rather curtly. He was
more and more puzzled by the change in Basterga's manner. Was the big
man a poltroon whom the bold front shown to Grio brought to heel? Or was
there something behind, some secret upon which h