"Ah!" cried St. Maline, "pray repeat that."

"You are seeking a quarrel, are you not?" replied Ernanton, quietly; "so
much the worse for you."

"And why should I wish to quarrel? I do not know you," replied St.
Maline, disdainfully.

"You know me perfectly, monsieur, because at home my house is but two
leagues from yours, and I am well known there, being of an old family;
but you are furious at seeing me in Paris, when you thought that you
alone were sent for; also, because the king gave me the letter to
carry."

"Well," said St. Maline, "it may be true, but there is one result."

"What is it?"

"That I do not like to be near you."

"Go away, then; pardieu, I do not want to keep you. On the contrary, I
understand perfectly; you would like to take the letter from me and
carry it yourself; but unfortunately you must kill me first."

"And who tells you that I do not wish to do that?"

"To desire and to do are two different things."

"Descend with me to the banks of the water, and you will see that with
me they are the same."