“It is impossible—it would be too dishonorable.”
“I will put it another way—I will repeat what Ponthieu told you, and I will ask you to bear witness to my truth. Do you agree?”
“If I refuse?”
“The cachots—and the rack. Both you and Marcilly.”
There was, truly enough, little choice in the matter, and in five days many things might happen. I could have slain him where he was, but to what purpose? I watched him as he stood, a whistle to his lips.
“Very well, monseigneur—I agree.”
“I have the word of Vibrac?”
I bowed. I could not trust myself to speak.
“That is right. The cachots are uncomfortable, almost as uncomfortable as the Chausse d’Hypocras of the Châtelet, where your friend the Vidame is, though they say he has been moved to the Tournelles.”
“One word, monseigneur! Ponthieu—he is my friend——”