"Besides, if I read the Chevalier rightly he will force you. You laughed too loudly."
"I will laugh again, even more loudly."
"He will strike you … even as I did."
D'Hérouville spat. "Leave me, Monsieur. My wound may open again, and that would put me back."
"I advise you to take the air to-day."
"I shall do so."
They were very courtly in those old days.
So D'Hérouville went forth to take the air that afternoon and incidentally to pay his respects in person to Madame de Brissac. Fortune favored him, for he met her coming down the path from the upper town. He lifted his hat gravely and barred her path.
"Madame, my delight at seeing you is inexpressible."
Madame's countenance signified that the delight was his alone; she shared no particle of it. She knew that eventually their paths would cross again, but she had prepared no plans to meet this certainty. Her gaze swerved from his and rested longingly on the Henri IV in the harbor. She had determined to return to France upon it. The amazing episode of the night before convinced her that her safety lay rather in France than in Canada. But she had confided this determination to no one, not even to Anne.