caprice."

He did not need to speak more plainly. It was he who had prevented
Bigot from taking Mathilde away from Alixe, and locking her up, or
worse. I said nothing, however, and soon we were in a large room,
sumptuously furnished, looking out on the great square. The morning
sun stared in, some snowbirds twittered on the window-sill, and
inside, a canary, in an alcove hung with plants and flowers, sang as
if it were the heart of summer. All was warm and comfortable, and it
was like a dream that I had just come from the dismal chance of a
miserable death. My cloak and cap and leggings had been taken from
me when I entered, as courteously as though I had been King Louis
himself, and a great chair was drawn solicitously to the fire. All
this was done by the servant, after one quick look from Doltaire.
The man seemed to understand his master perfectly, to read one look
as though it were a volume--

"The constant service of the antique world."

Such was Doltaire's influence. The closer you came to him, the
more compelling was he--a devilish attraction, notably selfish, yet
capable of benevolence. Two years before this time I saw him lift
a load from the back of a peasant woman and carry it home for her,
putting into her hand a gold piece on leaving. At another time, an
old man had died of a foul disease in a miserable upper room of a
warehouse. Doltaire was passing at the moment when the body should
be carried to burial. The stricken widow of the dead man stood
below, waiting, but no one would fetch the body down. Doltaire
stopped and questioned her kindly, and in another minute he was
driving the carter and another upstairs at the point of his sword.