"Yes," said I, thoughtfully, wondering that he should try to begin that very act by accusing some one else of intending it.
"Then, monsieur," he went on, "look to yourself."
But I looked at him instead, with some amazement at the assurance with which he continued to face me.
"And what man of my following would you accuse of intending to betray me?" I asked.
"No man, monsieur," he said, still meeting my gaze steadily, and not changing his attitude.
"No man?" I repeated, for a moment puzzled. "Oh, ho! The boy, Pierre, perhaps, who left us while we were at the inn by the forest road! Well, monsieur, you speak falsely. I would stake my arm on his loyalty."
"It is not to tell you of any boy that I have sought you these many days in this wilderness," said De Berquin, all the time standing as motionless as a statue, and speaking in a very low voice. "It is not a boy that has come from M. de la Chatre, the governor of the province, to betray you."
"Not man nor boy," I said, curious now to learn what he was aiming at. "What, then? Mademoiselle's maid, honest Jeannotte? You must take the trouble to invent something else, M. de Berquin. You become amusing."
"Not the maid, monsieur," he replied, very quietly, putting a stress on the word "maid," and facing me as boldly as ever.
Slowly it dawned on me what he meant. Slowly a tremendous indignation grew in me against the man who dared to stand before me and make that accusation. Yet I controlled myself, and merely answered in a tone as low as his, but slowly drawing my sword: