"Which of you, my lords," said he, "cried out that I was mistaken in the identity of yonder knave?"
"It was I, Eugene," replied the Duke de Bouillon.
"But you see your error now, do you not, uncle? since not only I, but my whole household proclaim him to be the ring-leader of that riot, which forced my mother into exile."
"And yet he is assuredly Barbesieur Louvois," laughed the Prince de
Conti.
"Well—we shall see," was the reply. "He has disengaged himself from his coach-window, and if he is a gentleman he will know what he has to do."
And Eugene returned to the place where Barbesieur was now standing, calling out to his friends to follow him.
"Are you quite sure, my lords, that this individual is Monsieur
Louvois?"
They answered with one voice, "We are!" while all eyes were fixed upon the tall figure which, now relaxed and bent with shame, resembled the stricken frame of an old man; while his eyes were sedulously cast down, that they might not meet the glance of the meanest man who had witnessed his disgrace.
"I am still incredulous," said the prince. "But I reaffirm that this is the brutal ringleader of the mob that attacked my mother's home, and since I am ready to swear upon my honor that it is he, have not I performed my duty by chastising him?"
"Yes, Prince of Savoy, if you are sure that it is he," was the unanimous reply.