I have no reason to hide it: Maitre Quennebert, notary, Saint-Denis. I
will not detain you any longer now, commander; excuse a simple citizen
for dictating conditions to a noble such as you. For once chance has
been on my side although a score of times it has gone against me."

De Jars made no reply except a nod, and walked away quickly, muttering
words of suppressed anger between his teeth at all the--humiliations to
which he had been obliged to submit so meekly.

"He's as insolent as a varlet who has no fear of a larruping before his
eyes: how the rapscallion gloried in taking advantage of his position!
Taking-off his hat while putting his foot on my neck! If ever I can be
even with you, my worthy scrivener, you'll pass a very bad quarter of an
hour, I can tell you."

Everyone has his own idea of what constitutes perfect honour. De Jars,
for instance, would have allowed himself to be cut up into little pieces
rather than have broken the promise he had given Quennebert a week ago,
because it was given in exchange for his life, and the slightest
paltering with his word under those circumstances would have been
dastardly. But the engagement into which he had just entered had in his
eyes no such moral sanction; he had not been forced into it by threats,
he had escaped by its means no serious danger, and therefore in regard to
it his conscience was much more accommodating. What he should best have
liked to do, would have been to have sought out the notary and provoked
him by insults to send him a challenge.

That a clown such as that could have any chance of leaving the ground
alive never entered his head. But willingly as he would have encompassed
his death in this manner, the knowledge that his secret would not die