“Now, master craven,” I shouted, “will that change your mind?”
With an almost inarticulate cry, he sought to draw there and then, but those about flung themselves upon us, and held us apart—I, passive and unresisting; the Marquis, bellowing, struggling, and foaming at the mouth.
“To meet you now would be to murder you, Marquis,” I said coolly. “Send your friends to me to appoint the time.”
“Soit!” he cried, his eyes blazing with a hate unspeakable. “At eight to-morrow morning I shall await you on the green behind the castle of Blois.”
“At eight o'clock I shall be there,” I answered. “And now, gentlemen, if you will unhand me, I will return to my apartments.”
They let me go, but with many a growl and angry look, for in their eyes I was no more than a coarse aggressor, whilst their sympathy was all for St. Auban.
CHAPTER X. THE CONSCIENCE OF MALPERTUIS
And so back to my room I went, my task accomplished, and so pleased was I with what had passed that as I drew on my boots—preparing to set out to Canaples—I laughed softly to myself.
St. Auban I would dispose of in the morning. As for the other members of the cabal, I deemed neither Vilmorin nor Malpertuis sufficiently formidable to inspire uneasiness. St. Auban gone, they too would vanish. There remained then Eugène de Canaples. Him, however, methought no great evil was to be feared from. In Paris he might be as loud-voiced as he pleased, but in his father's château—from what I had learned—'t was unlikely he would so much as show himself. Moreover, he was wounded, and before he had sufficiently recovered to offer interference it was more than probable that Andrea would have married one or the other of Mesdemoiselles de Canaples—though I had a shrewd suspicion that it would be the wrong one, and there again I feared trouble.