“He—what, sir?” I said fiercely, suddenly dropping my assumed character and stepping up to him. “What, sir? Speak out—if you dare—a false accusation against the Marquis de Cernay.”
He staggered back, his eyes starting, fairly frightened into silence, and I thought I caught a gleam of keen amusement in Sophia’s eyes. I turned to her with my natural manner.
“Madame,” I said easily, “this gentleman is stout and suffers from shortness of breath. I found it impossible to carry him about with me, and left him to rest at our quarters until I had despatched your highness’ business.”
The chamberlain fell on his knees before Sophia with a thud that shook the very floor.
“Hear, O Princess!” he said, glaring at me furiously; “the man is a villain. He locked me in a turret after—after treating me with great indignity, and, but for that good fellow yonder,” he pointed at the rogue, Michaud, “I would be there now and, perhaps, murdered. But the good youth let me out and that woman made known to me many things, many——”
“For instance, how to cook sterlet!” I interrupted contemptuously.
“Saint Denis!” murmured Maître le Bastien, “be still—your rashness will cut our throats!”
“She told me what the good youth said; she has learned enough of their heathen tongue to interpret,” continued Kourbsky, “and if I may speak privately with your serene highness, I will unfold all—all. I know who brought the miniature and the locket, and who ordered them changed.”
I stood near Michaud, and at this I turned a fierce look on him.
“Villain,” I said, “for this alone you should hang.”