"What?"
"You said—Bluebeard."
"Hey?"
"Ay!—what the devil did you mean by that?"
"Upon my soul, I said no such thing," said Blassemare, with a hollow, satirical laugh.
Monsieur Le Prun glanced over his shoulder once or twice, and then hummed to himself for a time.
"Seriously," he repeated, "did you not call me by that name?"
"I!—no; I always call things by their name, and yours is gray."
"Hem!—what is he driving in this shadow for? Tell him to keep in the moonlight—one would think he wanted to break our necks."
Monsieur Le Prun, it was evident, had become fidgety and fanciful.