"Who gives quarter to no one."
"You think so, Chicot?"
"I am sure of it; red plume or white, he will not care, but cry, Fire!"
"You say that for my white feather, Chicot."
"Yes, sire, and as you are the only one who wears that color—"
"Well!"
"I would take it off."
"But I put it on that I might be recognized."
"Then you will keep it?"
"Yes, decidedly." And Henri trembled again as he said it.