"We are friends."
"I am your friend, since it is in your cause that I am here. I have stood at your shoulder like a brother—you cannot deny it."
"No," Gervais answered; "you stood my friend,—my one friend in that house,—as I was yours. I stood at your shoulder in the Montluc affair—you cannot deny that. I have been your ally, your servant, your messenger to mademoiselle, your envoy to Mayenne. I have done all in my power to win you your lady."
A shadow fell over Yeux-gris's open face.
"That task needs a greater power than yours, my Gervais."
He regarded Gervais with a rueful smile, his thoughts of a sudden as far away from me as if I had never set foot in the Rue Coupejarrets. He shook his head, sighing, and said, with a hand on Gervais's shoulder: "It's beyond you, cousin."
Gervais brought him back to the point.
"Well, I've done what I could for you. But you don't help me when you let loose a spy to warn Lucas."
"He shall not go. You know well, cousin, you will be no gladder than I when that knave is dead. But I will not have Félix Broux suffer because he dared speak for the Duke of St. Quentin."
"As you choose, then. I will not touch a hair of his head if you keep him from Lucas."