There was an undefinable something in the jaunty air and jocular tone of De Brissac that irritated me, I scarcely knew why; so I said—'You and I had a little affair left unsettled in Paris, M. de Brissac, if I remember rightly.'
'I was just about to recall it to your memory, and regret that you have but anticipated me. You consider me still your debtor?' 'I do,' was the haughty reply.
'And wish to fight with me?' 'Yes,' I replied, heedless of a twitch Dundrennan gave my cloak.
'Then I regret, M. Blane, that I must decline the honor of crossing swords with you.' 'Zounds!—decline?'
'For a little time yet.' 'Indeed!—wherefore?'
'Pardieu—for two sufficient reasons.' 'Name them.'
'If I killed you, people in Paris would say I had done so because you demurred to let king Louis have the daughter of Duke Charles. If you killed me they would say it was done because I came to demand her, or that you resented being omitted in this pressing invitation to share the hospitality of the Bastille; moreover, they will put unpleasant constructions on the circumstance of the duke d'Alsace being drowned while in your care. They are very provoking, these Parisians, so let our little quarrel remain open until you return to the Louvre, when I will be delighted to afford you an opportunity of going comfortably home upon a door or shutter from the Boulevards or the Bois de Boulogne.'
'Agreed,' said I, for one part of his remarks made me grow pale with anxiety; 'but will you please to inform me what interest these devilish gossips of Paris can conceive me to have in withstanding the King's orders concerning Marie Louise of Lorraine?'
'My dear young friend,' said De Brissac, laughing, as he seated himself at table, 'your residence here among these wooded mountains is very secluded; but, believe me, that Cardinal Richelieu has more spies in France and Germany than Father du Tremblay, that devil of a Capuchin.'
I retired, and was followed by Dundrennan, who said to me, gravely—