"It is well. As you say, I am the master, and I choose just now to apply the ordinary and extraordinary question: Do you know what they are, monsieur?" said D'Argenson, leaning on each syllable.
A cold sweat bathed Gaston's temples, not that he feared to die, but torture was worse than death. A victim of the torture was always disfigured or crippled, and the best of these alternatives was a cruel one for a young man of five and twenty.
D'Argenson saw, as in a mirror, what was passing in Gaston's mind.
"Hola!" said the interrogator.
Two men entered.
"Here is a gentleman who seems to have no dislike to the question ordinary or extraordinary. Take him to the room."
"It is the dark hour, the hour I expected," murmured Gaston. "Oh, my God! give me courage."
Doubtless his prayer was heard, for, making a sign that he was ready, he followed the guards with a firm step.
D'Argenson came behind him.
They descended the stone staircase and passed the first dungeon in the tower. There they crossed two courts. As they crossed the second court, some prisoners, looking through their windows and seeing a gentleman well dressed, called out: