"But it did not come out as you wished?" hinted I.

"It served my turn," he responded; and he gave me such a smiling,
malicious look that I knew sought to convey he had his way with
Alixe; and though I felt that she was true to me, his cool
presumption so stirred me I could have struck him in the face.
I got angrily to my feet, but as I did so I shrank a little, for
at times the wound in my side, not yet entirely healed, hurt me.

"You are not well," he said, with instant show of curiosity;
"your wounds still trouble you? They should be healed. Gabord was
ordered to see you cared for."

"Gabord has done well enough," answered I. "I have had wounds
before, monsieur."

He leaned against the wall and laughed. "What braggarts you
English are!" he said. "A race of swashbucklers--even on bread and
water!"

He had me at advantage, and I knew it, for he had kept his
temper. I made an effort. "Both excellent," rejoined I, "and
English too."

He laughed again. "Come, that is better. That's in your old
vein. I love to see you so. But how knew you our baker was
English?--which he is, a prisoner like yourself."

"As easily as I could tell the water was not made by Frenchmen."