"Whatever you please, M. de Pavannes," the Italian retorted
contemptuously. "Explain it for yourself!"

I started as the name struck my ear, and at once cried out in
surprise, "M. de Pavannes!" Had I heard aright?

Apparently I had, for the prisoner turned to me with a bow.
"Yes, sir," he said with dignity, "I am M. de Pavannes. I have
not the honour of knowing you, but you seem to be a gentleman."
He cast a withering glance at the captain as he said this.
"Perhaps you will explain to me why this violence has been done
to me. If you can, I shall consider it a favour; if not, pardon
me."

I did not answer him at once, for a good reason--that every
faculty I had was bent on a close scrutiny of the man himself.
He was fair, and of a ruddy complexion. His beard was cut in the
short pointed fashion of the court; and in these respects he bore
a kind of likeness, a curious likeness, to Louis de Pavannes.
But his figure was shorter and stouter. He was less martial in
bearing, with more of the air of a scholar than a soldier. "You
are related to M. Louis de Pavannes?" I said, my heart beginning
to beat with an odd excitement. I think I foresaw already what
was coming.

"I am Louis de Pavannes," he replied with impatience.

I stared at him in silence: thinking--thinking--thinking. And
then I said slowly, "You have a cousin of the same name?"