spitting Canaples, eh? You have provoked a dozen enemies for Andrea where
only one existed."

"I will answer for all of them," I retorted boastfully.

"Fine words, M. de Luynes; but to support them how many men will you have
to kill? Pah! What if some fine morning there comes one who, despite your
vaunted swordsmanship, proves your master? What will become of that fool,
my nephew, eh?"

And his uncanny smile again beamed on me. "Andrea is now packing his
valise. In an hour he will have left Paris secretly. He goes--but what
does it signify where he goes? He is compelled by your indiscretion to
withdraw from Court. Had you kept a close tongue in your foolish head--but
there! you did not, and so by a thoughtless word you undid all that you had
done so well. You may go, M. de Luynes. I have no further need of you--
and thank Heaven that you leave the Palais Royal free to go whither your
fancy takes you, and not to journey to the Bastille or to Vincennes. I am
merciful, M. de Luynes--as merciful as you are brave; more merciful than
you are prudent. One word of warning, M. de Luynes: do not let me learn
that you are in my nephew's company, if you would not make me regret my
clemency and repair the error of it by having you hanged. And now, adieu!"

I stood aghast. Was I indeed dismissed? Albeit naught had been said, I
had not doubted, since my interview with him that morning, that did I
succeed in saving Andrea my rank in his guards--and thereby a means of
livelihood--would be restored to me. And now matters were no better than
they had been before. He dismissed me with the assurance that he was
merciful. As God lives, it would have been as merciful to have hanged me!