"And what of me, madame?" he spluttered. "What of me? Am I to be
ruined, gaoled, and hanged, maybe, for refusing him men? - for that
is what is in your mind. Am I to make myself an outlaw? Am I, who
have been Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny these fifteen years, to end
my days in degradation in the cause of a woman's matrimonial
projects for a simpering school-girl? Seigneur du Ciel!" he roared,
"I think you are gone mad - mad, mad! over this affair. You would
not think it too much to set the whole province in flames so that
you could have your way with this wretched child. But, Ventregris!
to ruin me - to - to - "

He fell silent for very want of words; just gaped and gasped, and
then, with hands folded upon his paunch, he set himself to pace the
chamber.

Madame de Condillac stood watching him, her face composed, her
glance cold. She was like some stalwart oak, weathering with
unshaken front a hurricane. When he had done, she moved away from
the fireplace, and, beating her side gently with her whip, she
stepped to the door.

"Au revoir, Monsieur de Tressan," said she, mighty cool, her back
towards him.

At that he halted in his feverish stride, stood still and threw up
his head. His anger went out, as a candle is extinguished by a
puff of wind. And in its place a new fear crept into his heart.

"Madame, madame!" he cried. "Wait! Hear me."