The Chevalier whirled about. "The Marquis de Périgny? Ah, yes; I have
heard of that gentleman. Why do you ask?"
"It is said that while he is a bad Catholic, he is generous in his
charities. Father Chaumonot and I intend to apply to him for
assistance. Mazarin has not been very liberal. Ah, how little they
dream of the length and breadth and riches of this France across the
sea! Monsieur le Marquis is rich?"
"Rich; but a bad Catholic truly." The Chevalier laughed without
merriment. "The marquis and charity? Why not oil and water? They mix
equally well."
"You do not seem quite friendly toward the Marquis?" suggested Brother
Jacques.
"No; I am not particularly fond of Monsieur le Marquis," patting the
pommel of his sword.
"Monsieur le Marquis has wronged you?" asked the priest, a fire leaping
into his eyes.
"It is a private affair, Monsieur," coldly.
"Pardon me!" Brother Jacques made a gesture of humility. He rolled
the bread crumbs into a ball which he dropped into the bowl. Presently
he pushed aside the bowl and rose, his long black cassock falling to
his ankles. He drew his rosary through his belt and put on his
shovel-shaped hat.
Again the Chevalier's attention was drawn toward the mutilated hand.
"The pastimes of savages, Monsieur," Brother Jacques said grimly,
holding out his hand for inspection: "the torture of the pipe, which I
stood but poorly. Well, my brother, I am outward bound, and Rouen is
far away. The night is beautiful, for the wind will drive away the
snow-clouds and the stars will shine brightly. Peace be with you."
"I wish you well, Monsieur," returned the Chevalier politely.
Then Brother Jacques left the Candlestick, mounted his mule, and rode
away, caring as little as the Chevalier whether or not their paths
should cross again.
"Monsieur le Marquis!" murmured the Chevalier, staring at the empty
bowl. "So the marquis, my father, gives to the Church? That is droll.
Now, why does the marquis give to the Church? He has me there. Bah!
and this priest's eyes. Ah!" as he saw Madame Boisjoli returning,
followed by Charlot who carried the smoking supper; "here is something
that promises well."
"Brother Jacques is gone?" said madame, her eyes roving.
"Yes." The Chevalier sat down at a table.
"Monsieur Paul?" timidly.
"Well, Mignon?" smiling. Mignon was certainly good to look at.
"Did you notice Brother Jacques's eyes?"
"Do you mean to say that you, too, observed them?" with a shade of
annoyance. Vanity compelled him to resent this absurd likeness.
"Immediately. It was so strange. And what a handsome priest!" slyly.
"Shall I call him back, Mignon?" laughing.
Madame exhibited a rounded shoulder.
"Bah with them all, Mignon, priests, cardinals, and journeys." And
half an hour later, having demolished all madame had set before him,
besides sharing the excellent chambertin, the Chevalier felt the man
made whole again. The warmth of the wine turned the edge of his
sterner thoughts; and at ten minutes to eight he went forth, a brave
and gallant man, handsome and gaily attired, his eyes glowing with
anticipating love, blissfully unconscious of the extraordinary things
which were to fall to his lot from this night onward.