VI

_A matter of life and death._


Nothing in life can be so sweet as freedom after captivity, safety after
danger. When I gained the open street once more and breathed the open
air, no one molesting or troubling me, I could have sung with joy. I
fairly hugged myself for my cleverness in getting out of my plight. As
for the combat I was furthering, my only doubt about that was lest the
skulking Lucas should not prove good sword enough to give trouble to M.
Gervais. It was very far from my wish that he should come out of the
attempt unscathed.

But as I went along and had more time to ponder the matter, other doubts
forced themselves into my reluctant mind. Put it as I pleased, the
affair smacked too much of secrecy to be quite savoury. It was curious,
to say the least, that an honest encounter should require so much
plotting. Also, Lucas, coward and rascal though he might be, was
Monsieur's man, doing Monsieur's errand, and for me to mix myself up in
a plot against him was scarcely in keeping with my vaunted loyalty to
the house of St. Quentin. My friend Gervais's quarrel might be just;
his manner of procedure, even, might be just, and yet I have no right to
take part in it.

And yet Monsieur had signified plainly enough that he was no longer my