"May I be so forward as to ask your name?"
"Victor de Saumaise, cadet in her Majesty's Guards, De Guitaut's company."
"And your business?"
"The king's, Monsieur; horns of Panurge, the king's! which is to say, none of yours." This time he pushed back his chair, stood upon his feet and swung his sword in place. "Is this once more a rebel city? And are you, Monsieur, successor to Guibon, the mayor, or the governor of the province, or some equally distinguished person, to question me in this fashion? I never draw my sword in pothouses; I simply dine in them; otherwise I should be tempted to find out why a gentleman can not be left in peace."
"Your reply, Monsieur," returned Du Puys, coloring, "would be entirely just were it not for the fact that a messenger from Paris directly concerns me. I am Captain Zachary du Puys, of Fort Louis, Quebec."
"Indeed, Captain," said De Saumaise, smiling again, "that simplifies everything. You are one of the gentlemen whom I am come to seek."
"Monsieur," said the choleric Nicot, "accept my apologies; but, nevertheless, I still adhere to the statement, that you smell badly of wet horses." He bowed.
"And I accept the apology and confess to the impeachment."
"And besides," said Nicot, naively, "you kicked my shin cruelly."
"What! I thought it was the table-leg! It is my turn to apologise. You no longer crave my blood?"