"Oh, as you will," said the Marquis coolly. "Perhaps your friend
will be seated, and you, too, my dear Marius." And he played the
host to them with a brisk charm. Setting chairs, he forced them to
sit, and pressed wine upon them.

Marius cast his hat and cloak on the chair where Garnache's had been
left. The Parisian's hat and cloak, he naturally assumed to belong
to his brother. The smashed flagon and the mess of wine upon the
floor he scarce observed, setting it down to some clumsiness, either
his brother's or a servant's. They both drank, Marius in silence,
the captain with a toast.

"Your good return, Monsieur le Marquis," said he, and Florimond
thanked him by an inclination of the head. Then, turning to Marius:

"And so," he said, "you have a garrison at Condillac. What the
devil has been taking place there? I have had some odd news of you.
It would almost seem as if you were setting up as rebels in our
quiet little corner of Dauphiny."

Marius shrugged his shoulders; his face suggested that he was
ill-humoured.

"Madame the Queen-Regent has seen fit to interfere in our concerns.
We Condillacs do not lightly brook interference."

Florimond showed his teeth in a pleasant smile.

"That is true, that is very true, Pardieu! But what warranted this
action of Her Majesty's?"