Amour de Dieu. This morning I went to the duke's hôtel, but the guard
would not let me in. Then, when Monsieur drove out I tried to get speech
with him, but he would have none of me."

The bitterness I felt over my rebuff must have been in my voice and
face, for Gervais spoke abruptly:

"And do you hate him for that?"

"Nay," said I, churlishly enough. "It is his to do as he chooses. But I
hate the Comte de Mar for striking me a foul blow."

"The Comte de Mar!" exclaimed Yeux-gris.

"His son."

"He has no son."

"But he has, monsieur. The Comte de--"

"He is dead," said Yeux-gris.

"Why, we knew naught--" I was beginning, when Gervais broke in:

"You say the fellow's honest, when he tells such tales as this! He saw
the Comte de Mar--!"

"I thought it must be he," I protested. "A young man who sat by
Monsieur's side, elegant and proud-looking, with an aquiline face--"