"Strike, man," he said, "or the petticoats will steal me from you."
I stepped back and shot my sword into its sheath.
"Go," I ordered. "I do not want your life. Only, depart this house straightway, and take your bravoes with you. They will have no other opportunity to-night. And, mark you, sir, no further meeting with the Gypsy—now, nor hereafter."
He bowed low. "Monsieur is pleased to be generous," he sneered.
But I gave him my back and, removing my mask, went over to my friends.
The Marquise met me with a perfect gale of apologies. But I laughed them aside, telling her it was I who stood in need of pardon for becoming involved in such a breach of hospitality.
"Your Highness might have been killed," she insisted, woman-like.
"But I wasn't," said I, "so, pray, think no more about it."
Just then, Colonel Moore came up and, seeing us without our masks, he dropped his, also. I watched Mademoiselle d'Essoldé's greeting to him. It was all even he could have wished.
"I think it is about the supper hour," said Lady Vierle. "Let us go in."