He slackened his pace as he heard footsteps overtake him, and where a beam of light shone out from an open door he wheeled about, thinking me a footpad.
"You, Félix?"
"Yes, monsieur; I go with M. le Comte."
"I have not permitted you."
"Then must I go in despite. Monsieur is wounded; I cannot leave him to go unsquired."
"There are lackeys to hire. I bade you seek M. le Duc."
"Is not monsieur a thought unreasonable? I cannot be in two places at once. Monsieur can send a letter. The duke has Vigo and a household. I go with M. le Comte."
"Oh," he cried, "you are a faithful servant! We are ridden to death by our faithful servants, we St. Quentins. Myself, I prefer fleas!" He added, growing angrier, "Will you leave me?"
"No, monsieur," said I.
He glowered at me and I think he had some notion of chasing me away with his sword. But since his dignity could not so stoop, he growled: