"His mother!" exclaimed Andrew. "His mother!" and he clapped his hand to his pocket and drew out the medallion. "You knew her. Is this she?" and he showed them the portrait.
"Ay," exclaimed Gaspard, after he had brought the spectacles down from his forehead to their proper place again, "ay, 'tis. I knew her well. She was a saint--all loved her--'tis for the sake of her memory we have so long borne with the son."
"Enough," said Andrew. "I will return it to him."
"Wherefore?" asked Laurent, not understanding.
"As something which he dropped in fleeing from the army, from me. He can scarce refuse to take it, to come and take it from my hands; thus we shall be face to face again."
"And the woman?" one asked.
"Ah the woman. I had forgotten. No; first I must find out if she is here, below, in this gloomy mansion you speak of. Then--then--it will be time to decide what I must do. But it grows late; to-morrow I must see this house and reconnoitre. My friends, if you will be such, let us make terms. Will you place yourselves at my service?"
"As I told monsieur," said Gaspard, "we are very poor. We must live. And if monsieur desires vengeance on one whom we all hate we will serve him. Though I for one can do but little. I am old--yet I do not forget. Ah, Julie! Also he forced me from my cottage, raising the seigneurial rights month by month till I became an outcast, living here on no man's land."
"Curse him!" exclaimed Laurent. "All I desire is to see him dead. And as for payment--well, I have no money--I, too, am an outcast, he would send me to the galleys if he caught me. Curse him!" he cried again, "give me but the wherewithal to live, and I will help you. Either you or I shall slay him."
"He has wronged you deeply?" Andrew asked, noticing how the handsome features of this man were convulsed by his fury.