smile on his proud and forceful face. "Dalbarade, Dalbarade," said he
to the Minister, "I have but an hour--ah, monsieur le prince!" he added
suddenly, as the latter came hurriedly towards him, and, grasping his
hand warmly, drew him over to Dalbarade at the window. Philip now knew
beyond doubt that he was the subject of debate, for all the time that the
Duke in a low tone, half cordial, half querulous, spoke to the new-comer,
the latter let his eyes wander curiously towards Philip. That he was an
officer of great importance was to be seen from the deference paid him by
Dalbarade.

All at once he made a polite gesture towards the Duke, and, facing the
Minister, said in a cavalier-like tone, and with a touch of patronage:
"Yes, yes, Dalbarade; it is of no consequence, and I myself will be
surety for both." Then turning to the nobleman, he added: "We are
beginning to square accounts, Duke. Last time we met I had a large
favour of you, and to-day you have a small favour of me. Pray introduce
your kinsman here, before you take him with you," and he turned squarely
towards Philip.

Philip could scarcely believe his ears. The Duke's kinsman! Had the
Duke then got his release on the ground that they were of kin--a kinship
which, even to be authentic, must go back seven centuries for proof?

Yet here he was being introduced to the revolutionary general as "my
kinsman of the isles of Normandy." Here, too, was the same General
Grandjon-Larisse applauding him on his rare fortune to be thus released
on parole through the Duc de Bercy, and quoting with a laugh, half sneer
and half raillery, the old Norman proverb: "A Norman dead a thousand
years cries Haro! Haro! if you tread on his grave."