"Aye; or I promise to beat your worthless body within an inch of death. Call me a fool, whose wrath, over-leaped his prudence and sense of truth and honor. Call me a fool."
"Oh!"
"Quickly!" The cane rose.
"God forgive me this disrespect! … Monsieur, you are a fool!"
"A senile, doting fool."
"A senile, doting fool!" repeated Jehan, weeping.
"That is well. My candle. Listen to me." The marquis moved toward the staircase. "Monsieur le Comte has left this house for good and all, so he says. Should he return to-morrow …"
Jehan listened attentively, as attentively as his dazed mind would permit.
"Should he come back within a month …" The marquis had by this time reached the first landing.
"Yes, Monsieur."