"From your tone it would seem so." The marquis sat down. A fit of
trembling had seized his legs. How the boy had changed in three
months! He looked like a god, an Egyptian god, with that darkened
skin; and the tilt of the chin recalled the mother.

"I had hoped never to look upon your face again," coldly.

The marquis waved his hand. "Life is a page of disappointments, with a
margin of realized expectations which is narrow indeed. Will you not
sit down?"

"I prefer to stand. It is safer for you with the table between us."

"Your sword was close to my heart one night. I made no effort to
repulse it."

"Heaven was not quite ready for you, Monsieur."

"Heaven or Hell. There seems to be gall in your blood yet."

"Who put it there?" The Chevalier was making an effort to control his
passion.

"I put it there, it is true. But did you not stir a trifle too well?"

"Why are you here? What is your purpose?"

"I have been three months on the water; I have been without my
accustomed canary and honey; I have dined upon salt meats till my