This was as good as Greek to us. But I so shrank from the
priest's malignant eyes, which would not quit us, and felt so
much disgust mingled with my anger that when Bezers by a gesture
invited me to sit down, I drew back. "I will not eat with you,"
I said sullenly; speaking out of a kind of dull obstinacy, or
perhaps a childish petulance.

It did not occur to me that this would pierce the Vidame's
armour. Yet a dull red showed for an instant in his cheek, and
he eyed me with a look, that was not all ferocity, though the
veins in his great temples swelled. A moment, nevertheless, and
he was himself again. "Armand," he said quietly to the servant,
"these gentlemen will not sup with me. Lay for them at the other
end."

Men are odd. The moment he gave way to me I repented of my
words. It was almost with reluctance that I followed the servant
to the lower part of the table. More than this, mingled with the
hatred I felt for the Vidame, there was now a strange sentiment
towards him--almost of admiration; that had its birth I think in
the moment, when I held his life in my hand, and he had not
flinched.

We ate in silence; even after Croisette by grasping my hand under
the table had begged me not to judge him hastily. The two at the
upper end talked fast, and from the little that reached us, I
judged that the priest was pressing some course on his host,
which the latter declined to take.

Once Bezers raised his voice. "I have my own ends to serve!" he