His eyes met mine, and I could see that, even in the moment of challenging me, he repented. He believed that I would give the lie. But the dragoon who was bending over him, relieving him of his sword-belt, spared me the necessity.
"Captain, you need give yourself no uneasiness; this is the Comte right enough. I live in the Quartier Marais, and I have seen this gentleman a score of times riding with M. de St. Quentin."
Lucas, at this unexpected testimony, looked so taken aback that the captain burst out laughing.
"Yes, my dear monsieur, it is a little hard for M. de Mayenne's nephew—you are a nephew, are you not?—to explain how he comes to ride with the Duc de St. Quentin."
It was awkward to explain. Lucas, knowing well that there was no future for him who betrayed the Generalissimo's secrets, cried out angrily:
"He lies! I never rode out with M. de St. Quentin."
"Oh, come now. Really you waste a great deal of breath," the captain said. "I regret the cruel necessity of arresting you, M. de Mar; but there is nothing gained by blustering about it. I usually know what I am about."
"You do not know! Nom de dieu, you do not know. Félix Broux, speak up there. If you have told him behind my back that I am Étienne de Mar, I defy you to say it to my face."
"I know nothing about it, messieurs." I repeated my little refrain. "Monsieur captain, remember, if you please, I never saw him till yesterday; he may be Paul de Lorraine for all I know. But he did not call himself that yesterday."
"You hell-hound!" Lucas cried.