"I have told monsieur what every one in the duchy knows; there's no
charge for that. For what more his Highness and--and those in his
Highness's confidence know," he drew himself up with brusque importance,
"there's no price, monsieur."

"Body o' me, here's pride and vainglory!" answered the other. "But I
know you, my fine Pergot, I knew you almost too well years ago; and then
you were not so sensitive; then you were a good Royalist like me,
Pergot."

This time he fastened the man's look with his own and held it until
Pergot dropped his head before it.

"I don't remember monsieur," he answered, perturbed.

"Of course not. The fine Pergot has a bad memory, like a good
Republican, who by law cannot worship his God, or make the sign of the
Cross, or, ask the priest to visit him when he's dying. A red
Revolutionist is our Pergot now!"

"I'm as good a Royalist as monsieur," retorted the man with some
asperity. "So are most of us. Only--only his Highness says to us--"

"Don't gossip of what his Highness says, but do his bidding, Pergot.
What a fool are you to babble thus! How d'ye know but I'm one of
Fouche's or Barere's men? How d'ye know but there are five hundred men
beyond waiting for my whistle?"

The man changed instantly. His hand was at his side like lightning.