person, as men say he will one day come, and all men may have access to
his royal presence. And he, the tyrant, the usurper, dares to call us
base born, to call us peasants, we who own a nobler name than he!

"The day will come, proud man, when thou shalt rue the hour when thou
spakest thus to me -- to me who am thy equal, ay, and more than thy
equal, in birth, and who will some day come and prove it to thee at the
sword's point!"

Many expressions had flitted over the rider's face as these bold words
had been spoken -- anger, astonishment, then an unspeakable fury, which
made Gaston look well to the hand which held the shining sword; last of
all an immense astonishment of a new kind, a perplexity not unmixed with
dismay, and tinged with a lively curiosity. As the youth ceased speaking
the knight sheathed his sword, and when he replied his voice was pitched
in a very different key.

"I pray you pardon, young sirs," he said, glancing quickly from one
handsome noble face to the other. "I knew not that I spoke to those of
gentle birth. The dress deceived me. Tell me now, good youths, who and
whence are ye? You have spoken in parables so far; tell me more plainly,
what is your name and kindred?"

Raymond, who had heard somewhat of the enmity of the Sieur de Navailles,
and knew that their identity as sons of the house of De Brocas had
always been kept from his knowledge, here pressed his brother's arm as
though to suggest the necessity for caution; but Gaston's hot blood was
up. The talk they had been holding together had strung his nerves to the
utmost pitch of tension. He was weary of obscurity, weary of the peasant
life. He cared not how soon he threw off the mask. Asked a downright