"Who put it there?" The Chevalier was making an effort to control his passion.
"I put it there, it is true. But did you not stir a trifle too well?"
"Why are you here? What is your purpose?"
"I have been three months on the water; I have been without my accustomed canary and honey; I have dined upon salt meats till my tongue and stomach are parched like corn. Have you no welcome?"
The Chevalier laughed.
"They haven't tamed you, then?" The marquis drew circles in the spilled salt. "Have you become … great and respected?"
The thrust went deep. A pallor formed under the Chevalier's tan. "I have made some progress, Monsieur. If any laugh, they do so behind my back."
The marquis nodded approvingly.
"Have you come all this journey to mock me?"
"Well," the father confessed, "I do not like the way you say 'you'."