‘Neither here nor outside,’ he retorted, looking for a moment at his comrade. ‘Only I hold the King’s commission. That is all, and, I think, enough.’
‘Well—for the rest, will you throw a main?’ he answered evasively. ‘Good! Lieutenant, find a glass, and the gentleman a seat. And here, for my part, I will give you a toast The Cardinal—whatever betide!’
I drank it, and sat down to play with him; I had not heard the music of the dice for a month, and the temptation was irresistible. But I was not satisfied. I called the mains and won his crowns—he was a mere baby at the game—but half my mind was elsewhere. There was something here that I did not understand; some influence at work on which I had not counted; something moving under the surface as unintelligible to me as the soldiers’ presence. Had the Captain repudiated my commission altogether, and put me to the door or sent me to the guard-house, I could have followed that. But these dubious hints, this passive resistance, puzzled me. Had they news from Paris, I wondered? Was the King dead? Or the Cardinal ill? I asked them, but they said no, no, no to all, and gave me guarded answers. And midnight found us still playing; and still fencing.
CHAPTER IX. THE QUESTION
Sweep the room, Monsieur? And remove this medley? But M. le Capitaine—’
‘The Captain is in the village,’ I replied Sternly. ‘And do you move. Move, man, and the thing will be done while you are talking about it. Set the door into the garden open—so.’
‘Certainly, it is a fine morning. And the tobacco of M. le Lieutenant—But M. le Capitaine did not—’
‘Give orders? Well, I give them,’ I answered. ‘First of all, remove these beds. And bustle, man, bustle, or I will find something to quicken you!’
In a moment—‘And M. le Capitaine’s riding-boots?’