"Give me a love-clasp, spider," he said with a kind of sneer. "I'd like
your love as I travel to triumph." A light of hatred came into Denzil's
eyes. "Beetledog--wasp--spider" he had been called by this big man--
well, he should see that the wasp could give as good as it got. His
big gnarled hand enclosed the hand of Barode Barouche, then he suddenly
closed on it tight. He closed on it till he felt it crunching in his own
and saw that the face of Barode Barouche was like that of one in a chair
of torture. He squeezed, till from Barouche's lips came a gasp of agony,
and then he let go.

"You've had my love-clasp, m'sieu'," Denzil said with meaning, "and when
you want it again let me know. It's what M'sieu' Carnac will do with you
to-morrow night. Only he'll not let go, as I did, before the blood
comes. Don't be hard on those under you, m'sieu'. Remember wasps and
spiders can sting in their own way, and that dogs can bite."

"Little black beast," was the short reply, "I'll strip your hide for
Hell's gridiron in good time."

"Bien, m'sieu', but you'll be in hell waiting, for I'm going to bury you
here where you call better men than yourself dogs and wasps and spiders
and beetles. And I'll not strip your 'hide,' either. That's for lower
men than me."

A moment later they parted, Denzil to find Junia, and Barouche to prepare
his speech for the evening. Barouche pondered. What should he do--
should he challenge Carnac with his marriage with Luzanne Larue? His
heart was beating hard.