you are warned there is no need for me to
bluster. I am quite prepared to acknowledge your superior rank, and if
you insist upon it, to speak to you uncovered."

"What do you desire to know, sir?"

"How is the Chevalier de Moranges getting on?"

"Very badly, very badly."

"Take care, commander; don't deceive me. One is so easily tempted to
believe what one hopes, and I hope so strongly that I dare not believe
what you say. I saw you coming out of the house, not at all with the air
of a man who had just heard bad news, (quite the contrary) you looked at
the sky, and rubbed your hands, and walked with a light, quick step, that
did not speak of grief."

"You're a sharp observer, sir."

"I have already explained to you, sir, that when one of us belonging to a
class hardly better than serfs succeeds by chance or force of character
in getting out of the narrow bounds in which he was born, he must keep
both eyes and ears open. If I had doubted your word as you have doubted
mine on the merest suspicion, you would have said to your servants,
'Chastise this rascal.' But I am obliged to prove to you that you did
not tell me the truth. Now I am sure that the chevalier is out of
danger."

"If you were so well informed why did you ask me?"

"I only knew it by your asserting the contrary."

"What do you mean?" cried de Jars, who was growing restive under this
cold, satirical politeness.

"Do me justice, commander. The bit chafes, but yet you must acknowledge
that I have a light hand. For a full week you have been in my power.
Have I disturbed your quiet? Have I betrayed your secret? You know I
have not. And I shall continue to act in the same manner. I hope with
all my heart, however great would be your grief; that the chevalier may
die of his wound. I have not the same reasons for loving him that you
have, so much you can readily understand, even if I do not explain the
cause of my interest in his fate. But in such a matter hopes count for
nothing; they cannot make his temperature either rise or fall. I have
told you I have no wish to force the chevalier to resume his real name.
I may make use of the document and I may not, but if I am obliged to use
it I shall give you warning. Will you, in return, swear to me upon your
honour that you will keep me informed as to the fate of the chevalier,
whether you remain in Paris or whether you leave? But let this agreement
be a secret between us, and do not mention