"But one day I will twist your nose, Monsieur Doltaire."

"That is fair enough, if rude," he responded. "When your turn
comes, you twist and I endure. You shall be nourished well like me,
and I shall look a battered hulk like you. But I shall never be the
fool that you are. If I had a way to slip the leash, I'd slip it.
You are a dolt." He was touching upon the letters again.

"I weigh it all," said I. "I am no fool--anything else you will."

"You'll be nothing soon, I fear--which is a pity."

What more he might have said I do not know, but there now
appeared in the yard a tall, reverend old gentleman, in the costume
of the coureur de bois, though his belt was richly chased, and he
wore an order on his breast. There was something more refined than
powerful in his appearance, but he had a keen, kindly eye, and a
manner unmistakably superior. His dress was a little barbarous,
unlike Doltaire's splendid white uniform, set off with violet and
gold, the lace of a fine handkerchief sticking from his belt, and
a gold-handled sword at his side; but the manner of both was
distinguished.

Seeing Doltaire, he came forward and they embraced. Then he turned
towards me, and as they walked off a little distance I could see
that he was curious concerning me. Presently he raised his hand,
and, as if something had excited him, said, "No, no, no; hang him
and have done with it, but I'll have nothing to do with it--not a
thing. 'Tis enough for me to rule at--"