He smiled an acid smile, and took a pinch of snuff. "It is not so fiery-edged as that," he answered; "I can endure it."
"You shall have time too for reverie," answered I.
He looked puzzled. "What is't you wish?" he asked.
"Your surrender first," said I, "and then your company at breakfast."
"The latter has meaning and compliment," he responded, "the former is beyond me. What would you do with me?"
"Detain you and your shallop for the services of my master, the King of England, soon to be the master of your master, if the signs are right."
"All signs fail with the blind, monsieur."
"I will give you good reading of those signs in due course," retorted I.
"Monsieur," he added, with great, almost too great dignity, "I am of the family of the Duc de Mirepoix. The whole Kamaraska Isles are mine, and the best gentlemen in this province do me vassalage. I make war on none, I have stepped aside from all affairs of state, I am a simple gentleman. I have been a great way down this river, at large expense and toil, to purchase wheat, for all the corn of these counties goes to Quebec to store the King's magazine, the adored La Friponne. I know not your purposes, but I trust you will not push your advantage"—he waved towards our muskets—"against a private gentleman."
"You forget, Chevalier," said I, "that you gave verdict for my death."