he announced himself.

"My name is Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache. I am an emissary
dispatched from Paris by her Majesty the Queen-mother to procure the
enlargement of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye from the durance in which
she is held by madame your stepmother."

The pleasant gentleman's eyebrows went up; a smile that was almost
insolent broke on his face.

"That being so, monsieur, why the devil are you here?"

"I am here, monsieur," answered him Garnache, throwing back his
head, his nostrils quivering, "because you are not at Condillac."

The tone was truculent to the point of defiance, for despite the
firm resolve he had taken last night never again to let his temper
overmaster him, already Garnache's self-control was slipping away.

The Marquis noted the tone, and observed the man. In their way he
liked both; in their way he disliked both. But he clearly saw that
this peppery gentleman must be treated less cavalierly, or trouble
would come of it. So he waved him gracefully to the table, where
a brace of flagons stood amid the steaming viands.

"You will dine with me, monsieur," said he, the utmost politeness
marking his utterance now. "I take it that since you have come
here in quest of me you have something to tell me. Shall we talk
as we eat? I detest a lonely meal."