"You are my guest," rejoined Bois-Doré, blending with his courtesy an accent of dignity and resolution of which Monsieur d'Alvimar deemed him incapable, "and, in that capacity, you are entitled to entertain your opinions without being called upon to defend them, whether they are or are not identical with my own. If the sight of these unfortunate creatures is distasteful to you, as I do not wish it to be said that you were annoyed in any manner under my roof, I will arrange that they shall not offend your eyes; but you cannot demand that I shall brutally turn a woman and a child out-of-doors."
"Surely not, monsieur," said D'Alvimar, recovering his self-possession; "by so doing I should ill requite your courtesy, and I ask your pardon for my vehemence. You are aware of the horror with which my nation regards these infidels, and I know that I should have held it in check here."
"What do you mean?" demanded Bois-Doré, somewhat testily; "do you take us for Mussulmans?"
"God forbid, monsieur le marquis! I intended to refer to the tolerant spirit of the French in general; and as it is a law of civility that we must conform to the customs of the country in which we accept hospitality, I promise to keep watch upon myself, and to meet without repugnance whomever it may please you to receive."
"Very good!" replied the honest marquis, offering him his hand; "in a few moments, when I have finished here, is it your pleasure to go out and kill a hare or two?"
"You are too kind," said D'Alvimar, as he was leaving the room; "but do not disturb yourself on my account; with your permission I will go to write some letters, awaiting the supper hour."
The marquis, having risen to salute him, seated himself again with his careless grace, and said to Lucilio:
"Our guest is a very well-bred knight, but he is quick-tempered, and, all things considered, he has one great drawback, which is that he is too much of a Spaniard. Those sublime mortals despise everything that is not Spanish; but I believe that they have crushed out their own life by martyrizing and exterminating those wretched Moors. They will gnaw their hands over it some day. The Moors were untiring workers and scrupulously neat, in a land of sloth and vermin. They were gentle and humane before they were tormented so cruelly. Well, well, if we have here a poor remnant of that race which was so great in the past, let us not trample on it. Let us be merciful! God for us all!"
Lucilio had listened to the marquis with religious attention, but while he was saying the last words he was writing.
"What are you doing?" said Bois-Doré.