"If he ever comes back …"
"I am listening."
"Let him in."
And the marquis vanished beyond the landing, leaving the astonished lackey staring at the vanishing point. He saw the ruin and desolation in the dining-hall, from which arose the odor of stale wine and smoke.
"Mother of Jesus! What has happened?"
CHAPTER IX
THE FIFTY PISTOLES OF MONSIEUR LE VICOMTE
The roisterers went their devious ways, sobered and subdued. So deep was their distraction that the watch passed unmolested. Usually a rout was rounded out and finished by robbing the watch of their staffs and lanterns; by singing in front of the hôtel of the mayor or the episcopal palace; by yielding to any extravagant whim suggested by mischief. But to-night mischief itself was quiet and uninventive. Had there been a violent death among them, the roisterers would have accepted the event with drunken philosophy. The catastrophe of this night, however, was beyond their imagination: they were still-voiced and horrified. The Chevalier du Cévennes, that prince of good fellows … was a nobody, a son of the left hand! Those who owed the Chevalier money or gratitude now recollected with no small satisfaction that they had not paid their indebtedness. Truly adversity is the crucible in which the quality of friendship is tried.
On the way to the Corne d'Abondance the self-made victim of this night's madness and his friend exchanged no words. There was nothing to be said. But there was death in the Chevalier's heart; his chin was sunken in his collar, and he bore heavily on Victor's arm; from time to time he hiccoughed. Victor bit his lips to repress the sighs which urged against them.