"Yes, and am working for you; come, put by your sword. Look at me! Do I look like an enemy?"
He had recovered himself, and met my gaze fearlessly. Where could I have seen that face before? I drew my hand over my forehead as if to sweep the cobwebs from my memory, but with no avail.
"Well," he went on, with a smile, "do I look like an enemy? If I do, your sword is ready. Strike now, it will be a quick riddance, come!"
I put back my sword with a snap.
"I do not understand, but I accept your explanation."
He held out his hand frankly.
"That is right, and you will still let me be your comrade?"
I took his grasp.
"Yes, if you wish it."
We walked back together in silence, and on reaching the courtyard St. Armande said,