The Chevalier whirled about. "The Marquis de Périgny? Ah, yes; I have
heard of that gentleman. Why do you ask?"

"It is said that while he is a bad Catholic, he is generous in his
charities. Father Chaumonot and I intend to apply to him for
assistance. Mazarin has not been very liberal. Ah, how little they
dream of the length and breadth and riches of this France across the
sea! Monsieur le Marquis is rich?"

"Rich; but a bad Catholic truly." The Chevalier laughed without
merriment. "The marquis and charity? Why not oil and water? They mix
equally well."

"You do not seem quite friendly toward the Marquis?" suggested Brother
Jacques.

"No; I am not particularly fond of Monsieur le Marquis," patting the
pommel of his sword.

"Monsieur le Marquis has wronged you?" asked the priest, a fire leaping
into his eyes.

"It is a private affair, Monsieur," coldly.

"Pardon me!" Brother Jacques made a gesture of humility. He rolled
the bread crumbs into a ball which he dropped into the bowl. Presently
he pushed aside the bowl and rose, his long black cassock falling to
his ankles. He drew his rosary through his belt and put on his
shovel-shaped hat.