Verily, as Jacques told it me, he must have drained the stupid fellow dry.
Then the Chevalier turned to my lady with the utmost courtesy:
"What say you, Madame, shall I bear your reply to this gentle captain? For by my faith, Madame, you require a more careful go-between than this, one more discreet and less glib of tongue."
"Charles, upon my honor, I know nothing of all this; I have never seen this Captain de Mouret."
He looked as if he did not hear her. He glanced at the sun, full two hours high, drew his sword and started to leave the garden.
He paused to doff his cap, and say, "I bear your message for you, Madame; verily, I am honored."
My lady neither screamed nor fainted during his questioning of Jacques; she stood and listened as one dazed, or who but dimly understood. The Chevalier strode out sword in hand.
"For shame, Charles," she called to him calmly enough, though she was deadly pale, "here is some wretched mistake—"
"Yes, there does appear to have been a mistake—in the delivery of this precious billet. I will speedily make that right."
"Charles, Charles!"