An Achates for an Aeneas

"This is all very unusual. Stolen, from you?" bewildered.

"Yes."

"And it was not you?"

"Am I a killer of old men? No, Paul. De Brissac and I were on
excellent terms. You ought to know me better. I do not climb into
windows, especially when the door is always open for me. I am like my
sword, loyal, frank, and honest; we scorn braggart's cunning, dark
alleys, stealth; we look not at a man's back but into his face; we
prefer sunshine to darkness. And listen," tapping his sword: "he who
has done this thing, be he never so far away, yet shall this long sword
of mine find him and snuff his candle out."

"Good lad, forgive! I am drunk, atrociously drunk; and I have been
drunk so long!" The Chevalier swept the hair out of his eyes. "Have
you an enemy? Have I?"

"Enemies, enemies? If you but knew how I have searched my memory for a
sign of one! The only enemy I could find was . . . myself. Here is
your signet-ring, the one you pawned at Fontainebleau. You see,
Mazarin went to the bottom of things."

The Chevalier slipped the ring on his finger, twirled it, and remained
silent.

"Well?" said Victor, humorously.

"You never told me about Madame de Brissac." The Chevalier held the
beryl of the ring toward the light and watched the flames dance upon
its surface.

"Why should I have told you? I knew how matters stood between you and
madame; it would have annoyed you. It was not want of confidence,
Paul; it was diffidence. Are you sober enough to hear all about it
now?"