I felt my blood warm within me in spite of my fancied devotion to my contented life; but I thought of that affair of the duel, of the judgment of the Chambre Ardente, and above all, of Simon and the cards he held against me. Besides, I knew Vendôme, and so I refused once more.
"Well, well," he said, "as you will; but never say Antony of Vendôme was ungrateful."
We had by this time reached the point where the road opened out upon the river face, and halted together in the moonlight.
A little distance from us lay the Seine, shining in scales of hammered brass. The convicts were still on the Gloriette. Poor wretches! They slaved there day and night, and lights were moving to and fro amongst them as the guards watched them at their toil. They were singing a weird refrain—a chorus—ever and again interrupted by yells and curses as the lash of the task-master fell on some victim of his hatred or sluggard at work.
"Here we part, Monseigneur!" I said. "The lieutenant of the Châtelet will give you guards to escort you farther."
I bowed to both, and would have gone—for I thought it well not to be mixed up further in this matter—but the Duke stayed me. He had taken off his glove, and was fumbling with a ring on his finger. This he drew off and thrust into my hand.
"Keep this, monsieur. Remember, if ever you want a friend you have but to send it to me. Farewell!"
"Au revoir!" cried Le Brusquet, who had up to now preserved silence. "Remember, Le Brusquet is also your debtor doubly—once for a life and once for a sword—and forget not my address is the sign of the Crescent."
With this mocking allusion to the Louvre and to Diane de Poitiers' influence there, he followed on the heels of Vendôme, leaving me with the ring in my hand.
I watched them until they were lost in the shivering haze. They never sought the Gloriette, but kept on the right, making directly for the Louvre.