"We'll see you again to-night or in the morning, my Tamin," said Marc.
"And tell you how goes my talk with the commander," added I, quietly.
"And for the boat we wrecked," continued Marc, "why, of course, we won't remain in your debt for a small thing like that; though for the great matter, and for your love, we are always your debtors gladly!"
"And in the King's uniform," said I, cutting short Tamin's attempted protestations, "even the Black Abbé will not try to molest you."
I turned again to de Ramezay, who was waiting a few paces aside, and said, with a courtesy that was something formal after the warmth of our first greeting:—
"Your pardon, de Ramezay! But Tamin has gone through much with us and for us. And now, my son and I would crave an undisturbed conversation with you."
At once, and without a word, he conducted us into his private room, where he invited us to be seated. As we complied, he himself remained standing, with every sign of embarrassment in his frank and fearless countenance. I had ever liked him well. Good cause to like him, indeed, I had in my heart, for I had once stood over his body in a frontier skirmish, and saved his scalp from the knives of the Onondagas. But now my anger was hot against him, for it was plain to me that he had lent ear to some slanders against Marc. For a second or two there was a silence, then Marc sprang to his feet.
"Perhaps if I stand," said he, coldly, "Monsieur de Ramezay will do us the honour of sitting."
De Ramezay's erect figure—a very soldierly and imposing figure it was in its uniform of white and gold—straightened itself haughtily for an instant. Then he began, but with a stammering tongue:—
"I bitterly regret—it grieves me,—it pains me to even hint it,—" and he kept his eyes upon the floor as he spoke,—"but your son, my dear friend, is accused—"