M. de Rambouillet, somewhat to my surprise, did nothing to remove this impression. On all ordinary occasions a man of stiff and haughty bearing, and thoroughly disliking, though he could not prevent, the intrusion of a third party into a transaction which promised an infinity of credit, he received me so coldly and with so much reserve as for the moment to dash my spirits and throw me back on myself.
During the journey to the castle, however, which we performed on foot, attended by half a dozen armed servants bearing torches, I had time to recall M. de Rosny’s advice, and to bethink me of the intimacy which that great man had permitted me; with so much effect in the way of heartening me, that as we crossed the courtyard of the castle I advanced myself, not without some murmuring on the part of others, to Rambouillet’s elbow, considering that as I was attached to him by the king’s command, this was my proper place. I had no desire to quarrel, however, and persisted for some time in disregarding the nudges and muttered words which were exchanged round me, and even the efforts which were made as we mounted the stairs to oust me from my position. But a young gentleman, who showed himself very forward in these attempts, presently stumbling against me, I found it necessary to look at him.
‘Sir,’ he said, in a small and lisping voice, ‘you trod on my toe.’
Though I had not done so, I begged his pardon very politely. But as his only acknowledgment of this courtesy consisted in an attempt to get his knee in front of mine—we were mounting very slowly, the stairs being cumbered with a multitude of servants, who stood on either hand—I did tread on his toe, with a force and directness which made him cry out.
‘What is the matter?’ Rambouillet asked, looking back hastily.
‘Nothing, M. le Marquis,’ I answered, pressing on steadfastly.
‘Sir,’ my young friend said again, in the same lisping voice, ‘you trod on my toe.’
‘I believe I did, sir,’ I answered.
‘You have not yet apologised,’ he murmured gently in my ear.
‘Nay, there you are wrong,’ I rejoined bluntly, ‘for it is always my habit to apologise first and tread afterwards.’