"That is so, is it?" he said coldly. "I had heard it."
"But not all?" I exclaimed.
"I think so," he said. Then, continuing to look at them, though he spoke to me, he continued: "Let me tell you an apologue, M. le Vicomte. Once upon a time there was a man who had a grudge against a neighbour because the good man's crops were better than his. He went, therefore, secretly and by night, and not all at once--not all at once, Messieurs, but little by little--he let on to his neighbour's land the stream of a river that flowed by both their farms. He succeeded so well that presently the flood not only covered the crops, but threatened to drown his neighbour, and after that his own crops and himself! Apprised too late of his folly---- But how do you like the apologue, M. le Curé?"
"It does not touch me," Father Benôit answered with a wan smile.
"I am no man's servant, as the slave boasted," St. Alais answered with a polite sneer.
"For shame! for shame, M. le Marquis!" I cried, losing patience. "I have told you that but for M. le Curé and the smith here, Mademoiselle and I----"
"And I have told you," he answered, interrupting me with grim good humour, "what I think of it, M. le Vicomte! That is all."
"But you do not know what happened?" I persisted, stung to wrath by his injustice. "You are not, you cannot be, aware that when Father Benôit and his companions arrived, Mademoiselle de St. Alais and I were in the most desperate plight? that they saved us only at great risk to themselves? and that for our safety at last you have to thank rather the tricolour, which those wretches respected, than any display of force which we were able to make."
"That, too, is so, is it?" he said, his face grown dark. "I shall have something to say to it presently. But, first, may I ask you a question, M. le Vicomte? Am I right in supposing that these gentlemen are waiting on you from--pardon me if I do not get the title correctly--the Honourable the Committee of Public Safety?"
I nodded.