"Aye. But I have remembered mine."
"Monsieur! Monsieur cannot mean to let him go scot-free?"
But his eyes told me that he did mean it.
"Then," I said in more and more amazement, "Monsieur forgives him?"
His face set sternly.
"No," he answered. "No, Félix. He has placed himself beyond my forgiveness."
"Then we will go there alone, we two, and kill him! Kill the three!"
He laughed. But not a man in France felt less mirthful.
"You would have me kill my son?"
"He would have killed you."