“You lied, because you swore——”
“By the tomb of my poor mother,” he said, smiling. “And I stick to it. But you must not get things mixed up. I did not swear that I knew the truth, I swore that I would tell you the truth.”
“To tell it, you must know it.”
“To know one must reflect, and you don’t give me any time! Let’s have a little silence, please! And first of all, let Leonard loose the butt of his revolver. It puts me off.”
Even more than his jokes, the tone of insolent mockery in which he uttered them set Josephine’s teeth on edge. She felt herself surpassed, and realizing the danger to her vanity she said:
“Take your time about it. I know you. You will keep your promise.”
“Ah! You’re going to try kindness on me! I never could resist kindness.... Boy, writing materials! Fine hand-made paper, a pen made out of a hummingbird’s quill, the blood of a full-grown negress, and a piece of candied peel, as the poet says.”
He drew the pencil from his pocket-book and a visiting-card on which some words were already written in a particular order. He drew some lines to join these words to one another, then on the reverse he wrote the Latin formula:
“Ad lapidem currebat olim regina.”
“Dog-Latin of the worst,” he murmured. “I fancy that if I had been in the place of those good monks, I should have found better Latin and got quite as good a result. Nevertheless we must take it as we find it. So the queen rode at a gallop towards the block.... The queen rode.... Look at your watch, Josephine.”