Ten Thousand Livres in a Pocket

The Chevalier, who had merely closed his eyes, opened them and looked
up inquiringly. "Breton," he said, "return in half an hour." Breton
laid aside his book and departed. "Now, my father and my brother,"
began the Chevalier lightly, "what is it you have to say to me the
importance of which necessitates the exclusion of my servant?"

"I wish to do you a service, Monsieur."

"That is kind of you. And what may this service be?"

"A simple warning."

"Ah!"

"The Comte d'Hérouville has no love for you."

"Nor I for him." The Chevalier drew the coverlet to his chin and
stared through the square port-hole.

"When we land you will still be weak."

"Not so weak that I can not stand."

"All this means that you will fight him?"

"It does."

"A woman?"

"A woman, a vulgar jest and a glass of wine. Monsieur le Comte and
myself have been forbidden to meet under the pain of indefinite
imprisonment. Yonder it will be different."

"Mademoiselle de Longueville . . ."

"Has forgotten the incident, as I had, till D'Hérouville came on board
in search of some woman. Monsieur de Saumaise played him a trick of
some kind, and I stepped between."

"Can you be dissuaded?"

"Not the smallest particle. I shall be strong, never fear."

"I am drawn toward you, Monsieur. I am a priest, but I love courage
and the unconfused mind which accompanies it. You are a brave man."

"I?" humorously.

"Yes. Who has heard you complain?"