t his way, she was led by vanity into a
prodigious error.

"Twice, indeed, Mademoiselle. But the service which you rendered me upon
the first occasion was so present to my mind just now that it
eclipsed the memory of our second meeting. I have ever since desired,
Mademoiselle, that an opportunity might be mine wherein to thank you for
the preservation of my life. I do so now, and at your service do I lay
that life which you preserved, and which is therefore as much yours as
mine."

Strive as I might I could not rid my tone of an ironical inflection. I
was goaded to it by her attitude, by the scornful turn of her lip and
the disdainful glance of her grey eyes--she had her father's eyes,
saving that her gaze was as steadfast as his was furtive.

"What is this?" quoth Canaples. "You owe your life to my daughter? Pray
tell me of it."

"With all my heart," I made haste to answer before Mademoiselle could
speak. "A week ago, I disagreed upon a question of great delicacy with a
certain gentleman who shall be nameless. The obvious result attended
our disagreement, and we fought 'neath the eyes of a vast company of
spectators. Right was on my side, and the gentleman hurt himself upon
my sword. Well, sir, the crowd snarled at me as though it were my fault
that this had so befallen, and I flouted the crowd in answer. They were
a hundred opposed to one, and so confident did this circumstance
render them of their superiority, that for once those whelps displayed
sufficient valour to attack me. I fled, and as a coach chanced to come
that way, I clutched at the window and hung there. Within the coach
there were two ladies, and one of them, taking compassion upon me,
invited me to enter and thus rescued me. That lady, sir," I ended with a
bow, "was Mademoiselle your daughter."

In his eyes I read it that he had guessed the name of my nameless
gentleman.

The ladies were struck dumb by my apparent effrontery. Yvonne at last
recovered sufficiently to ask if my presence at the chateau arose from
my being attached to M. de Mancini. Now, "attached" is an unpleasant
word. A courtier is attached to the King; a soldier to the army; there
is humiliation in neither of these. But to a private gentleman, a man
may be only attached as his secretary, his valet, or, possibly, as his
bravo. Therein lay the sting of her carefully chosen word.

"I am M. de Mancini's friend," I answered with simple dignity.

For all reply she raised her eyebrow