Tressan sought refuge in offended dignity. He drew himself up,
threw back his head, and looked the Parisian fiercely in the eye.

"Since you take this tone with me, monsieur -"

"I take with you - as with any man - the tone that to me seems best.
You miserable fool! As sure as you're a rogue this affair shall
cost you your position. You have waxed fat and sleek in your
seneschalship; this easy life in Dauphiny appears to have been well
suited to your health. But as your paunch has grown, so, of a
truth, have your brains dwindled, else had you never thought to
cheat me quite so easily.

"Am I some lout who has spent his days herding swine, think you,
that you could trick me into believing this creature to be
Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye - this creature with the mien of a
peasant, with a breath reeking of garlic like a third-rate
eating-house, and the walk of a woman who has never known footgear
until this moment? Tell me, sir, for what manner of fool did you
take me?"

The Seneschal stood with blanched face and gaping mouth, his fire
all turned to ashes before the passion of this gaunt man.

Garnache paid no heed to him. He stepped to the girl, and roughly
raised her chin with his hand so that she was forced to look him in
the face.

"What is your name, wench?" he asked her.