“Your words are insult, Monsieur, and I bear no more. If you seek quarrel, you shall have it. I am your equal, Monsieur, and my commission comes from the King. Ah, M. de la Durantaye, what say you of this matter?”
A man, broad shouldered, in the dress of a woodsman, elbowed his way through the throng of soldiers. He had a strong, good-humored face.
“In faith, I heard little of the controversy, yet ’tis like I know the gist of it, as I have just conversed with a wounded soldier of mine, Barbeau, who repeated the story as he understood it. My hand to you, Sieur de Artigny, and it seems to me, Messieurs, that De Tonty hath the right of it.”
“You take his side against us who hath the authority of the Governor?”
“Pah! that is not the issue. Tis merely a question of justice to this lad here. I stand for fair trial with Henri de Tonty, and will back my judgment with my sword.”
They stood eye to eye, the four of them, and the group of soldiers seemed to divide, each company drawing together. Cassion growled some vague threat, but De Baugis took another course, gripping his companion by the arm.
“No, Francois, ’tis not worth the danger,” he expostulated. “There will be no crossing of steel. Monsieur Cassion, no doubt, hath reason to be angered––but not I. The man shall have his trial, and we will learn the right and wrong of all this presently. Monsieur Tonty, the prisoner is left in your charge. Fall back men––to your barracks. Madame, permit me to offer you my escort.”
“To where, Monsieur?”
“To the only quarters fitted for your reception,” he said gallantly, “those I have occupied since arrival here.”