"We did not come here for this."
"Well, what did we come for, then?" asked Coconnas.
"You will see," replied La Mole.
The two friends had got into the habit of addressing each other with the familiar "thee" and "thou" ever since the morning of that famous night when Coconnas had tried to thrust his poniard into La Mole's vitals. And he led Coconnas directly to a small window in the house which abutted on the tower; a man was leaning on the window-sill.
"Aha! here you are, gentlemen," said the man, raising his blood-red cap, and showing his thick black hair, which came down to his eyebrows. "You are welcome."
"Who is this man?" inquired Coconnas, endeavoring to recollect, for it seemed to him he had seen that face during one of the crises of his fever.
"Your preserver, my dear friend," replied La Mole; "he who brought to you at the Louvre that refreshing drink which did you so much good."
"Oho!" said Coconnas; "in that case, my friend"—
And he held out his hand to him.
But the man, instead of returning the gesture, drew himself up and withdrew from the two friends just the distance occupied by the curve of his body.