“You saved my life,” said Saint-Péray, simply.
“That is true,” said Cartouche. “But supposing it was for my own ends? I am the very hawk of opportunism.”
“You must have quick eyes indeed, dear Gaston,” said Saint-Péray, with a smile, “if you saw your way to turn me to account during those few moments of my peril.”
“Eyes of the hawk, Louis-Marie. Well, I saved your life, you say. It is certainly the only thing I ever saved, and therefore perhaps, like a spendthrift, I put a particular value on it.”
“And I too, Gaston, I assure you. There was never a time when I held my life so dear as now.”
“That is as I supposed, and the very reason why I am here to warn you.”
“What! is my life in danger?”
“That is as it may hit. If someone came to me and said, ‘Gaston, there is one who has it in his power to administer to you the potion of virtue, so that you shall wish to marry and live respectable,’ I should say that my life was in peril. But one man’s food is another man’s poison, and it is possible that you might welcome such a physicking.”
“Indeed I think I should.”
“Very well. Then there is a priest at Le Marais, I believe—a professional dealer in such potions. There is also, if I am not in error, the necessary other party to such a transaction awaiting you there. I would seize the opportunity, if I were you, to be made respectable for ever.”