For a while I hung back and took no share in the banter that was
toward. But in the end - lured perhaps by the spirit in which I
have shown that Chatellerault accepted it, and lulled by the wine
which in common with my guests I may have abused - I came to utter
words but for which this story never had been written.

"Chatellerault," I laughed, "abandon these defensive subterfuges;
confess that you are but uttering excuses, and acknowledge that you
have conducted this affair with a clumsiness unpardonable in one
equipped with your advantages of courtly rearing."

A flush overspread his face, the first sign of anger since he had
spilled his wine.

"Your successes, Bardelys, render you vain, and of vanity is
presumption born," he replied contemptuously.

"See!" I cried, appealing to the company. "Observe how he seeks to
evade replying! Nay, but you shall confess your clumsiness."

"A clumsiness," murmured La Fosse drowsily, "as signal as that
which attended Pan's wooing of the Queen of Lydia."

"I have no clumsiness to confess," he answered hotly, raising his
voice. "It is a fine thing to sit here in Paris, among the languid,
dull, and nerveless beauties of the Court, whose favours are easily
won because they look on dalliance as the best pastime offered
them, and are eager for such opportunities of it as you fleering
coxcombs will afford them. But this Mademoiselle de Lavedan is