The Fifty Pistoles of Monsieur le Vicompte

So together they entered the tavern.

"Maître," said Victor to le Borgne, "is the private assembly in use?"

"No, Monsieur; you wish to use it?"

"Yes; and see that no one disturbs us."

In passing through the common assembly, Victor saw Du Puys and Bouchard
in conversation with the Jesuits. Brother Jacques glanced carelessly
in the Chevalier's direction, frowned at some thought, and turned his
head away. The Iroquois had fallen asleep in a chair close to the
fire. In a far corner Victor discovered the form of the Vicomte
d'Halluys; he was apparently sleeping on his arms, which were extended
across the table.

"Why do I dislike that man?" Victor asked in thought. "There is
something in his banter which strikes me as coming from a man consumed
either by hate or envy." He pushed the Chevalier into the private
assembly, followed and closed the door.

"Ah!" The Chevalier sank into a chair. "Three hours ago I was
laughing and drinking in this room. Devil take me, but time flies!"

"God knows, Paul," said Victor, brokenly, "what you have done this
night. You are mad, mad! What are you going to do? You have publicly
branded yourself as the illegitimate son of the marquis."

"It is true," simply.

"True or false, you have published it without cause or reason. Good
God! and they will laugh at you; and I will kill all who laugh in my
presence. What madness!" Victor flung his hat on the table, strode
the length of the room, beating his hands and rumpling his hair.