I went on eating.
“I’ll be sorry,” said I, “—for the horse.”
At that he turned to the Count and my brother, breaking out into a loud laugh, like a father whose child has said something unusually clever.
“Henri and I are going into the woods today,” he went on in the same annoying voice. “After that we’ll pay a visit to the forge. I want to show him my horse.” Then he added slowly, “You can ride, can’t you, Henri?”
“As well as any of them,” I answered and went on hurrying through my meal.
De Marsac saw that I was nettled. He dared not drive his cajolery too far, for my brother was looking at him with half closed eyes, and the old Count had arched one brow gazing at me to see how I was standing his thrusts.
At length our visitor turned his conversation to the older men. He chattered like a magpie. One story followed the other with flashes of wit between. The spirit of merriment which was in the air when I entered the room came back. I saw my chance. As quietly as I could I arose and slipped softly out of the door.
With a feeling of relief I turned the corner of the house and was making down the gravel path when I heard a crunching of the stones behind me. I cast a glance over my shoulder. To my discomfort there was De Marsac coming quickly after me. He had his head thrown back and with his eyes towards the sky was whistling an air.
“Ah,” he exclaimed when I turned, “you are going somewhere?”
I stopped.