"You are pleased to joke, sir," the marquis said haughtily.
"Not at all," Rupert said, gravely. "You have met two persons who were your match. You remember Monsieur Dalboy?"
"Dalboy!" the marquis said. "Surely, surely, le Maitre Dalboy, yet--?"
"No, I am assuredly not Monsieur Dalboy," Rupert said. "And the other?"
The marquis reined in his horse suddenly.
"What!" he said, "you are--?"
"Rupert Holliday, my dear Monsieur Dessin."
"My dear, dear lad," the marquis exclaimed. "What pleasure! What delight!" and drawing his horse by the side of Rupert he embraced him with affection.
"My friends," he said to the other officers, who were naturally astonished at this sudden recognition between their prisoner and their colonel, "gentlemen, this English officer is my very dear friend. What kindness have I not received from his grandfather during my time of exile! While to himself I am deeply indebted.
"What a fortunate chance, that if you were to have the bad luck to be made prisoner, you should fall into my hands of all men. I wish that I could let you go, but you know--"