"If he does none of these things," said the marquis, "why can not he
live in peace here?"

"His . . . unfortunate history has followed him here."

"What?" The marquis's glass crashed upon the table and the wine crept
among the plates, soaking the marquis's sleeves and crimsoning his
elegant wristbands.

"What did you say?"

"Why," began the governor, startled and confused, "the history of his
birth is known." He looked at the walls, at the wine running about, at
the floor, at everything save the flashing eyes opposite.

"So the fool has told it here?" harshly. "Bah! let him rot here, then;
fool!"

"But he has said nothing; no one knew till . . ."

"Oh! then it was not Monsieur le Comte who spoke?"

"Monsieur le Comte?"

"That is the title which my son bears."

"Good God, Monsieur, then what is all this about?"

"It will take some time to tell it, Monsieur," said the marquis,