"Corporal," said the Chevalier, "will you pass me the corn?"
"Reach for it yourself," replied the corporal, insolently. He went on
smoking.
The Chevalier sat back in his chair, dumfounded. "Pass me that corn!"
peremptorily.
The intoxicated soldier saw nothing in the flashing eyes; so he
shrugged. "I am not your lackey."
The Chevalier was up in an instant. Passing quickly around the table
he inserted his fingers between the corporal's collar and his neck,
twisting him out of his chair and literally lifting him to his feet.
"What do you mean by this insolence? Pah!" scenting the brandy; "you
have been drinking."
"What's that to you? You are not my superior officer. Let go of my
collar."
"I am an officer in the king's army, and there is an unwritten law that
all non-commissioned officers are my inferiors, here or elsewhere, and
must obey me. You shall go to the guardhouse. I asked nothing of you
but a common courtesy, and you became insolent. To the guardhouse you
shall go."
"My superior, eh?" tugging uselessly at the hand of iron gripping his
collar. "I know one thing, and it is something you, fine gentleman
that you are, do not know. I know who my mother was . . ."
The corporal lay upon his back, his eyes bulging, his face purple, his
breaths coming in agonizing gasps.
"Who told you to say that? Quick, or you shall this instant stand in
judgment before the God who made you! Quick!"
There was death in the Chevalier's eyes, and the corporal saw it. He
struggled.
"Quick!"
"Monsieur d'Hérouville! . . . You are killing me!"
The Chevalier released the man's throat.
"Get up," contemptuously.
The corporal crawled to his knees and staggered to his feet. "By God,
Monsieur! . . ." adjusting his collar.
"Not a word. How much did he pay you to act thus basely?"
"Pay me?"
"Answer!" taking a step forward.
"Ten livres," sullenly.
The Chevalier's hands opened and closed, convulsively. "Give me those
livres," he commanded.
"To you?" The corporal's jaw fell. "What do you . . . ?"
"Be quick about it, man, if you love your worthless life!"
There was no gainsaying the devil in the Chevalier's eyes.
Scowling blackly, the corporal emptied his pockets. Immediately the
Chevalier scooped up the coin in his hand.
"When did D'Hérouville give these to you?"
"This afternoon."
"You lie, wretch!"
Both the corporal and the Chevalier turned. D'Hérouville's form stood,
framed in the doorway.
"Leave the room!" pointing toward the door.
D'Hérouville stepped aside, and the corporal slunk out.
The two men faced each other.
"He lies. If I have applied epithets to you, it has been done openly
and frankly. I have not touched you over some one's shoulder, as in
the De Leviston case. I entertain for you the greatest hatred. It
will be a pleasure some day to kill you."