True, Mr. Aycon. That will serve—as well as the truth.”
“If that is not a real ground, I know none,” said I.
“Haven’t you told me that you kept her from me?”
“For no purposes of my own.”
He drew back a step, smiling scornfully.
“A man is bound to protest that the lady is virtuous,” said he; “but need he insist so much on his own virtue?”
“As it so happens,” I observed, “it’s not a question of virtue.”
I suppose there was something in my tone that caught his attention, for his scornful air was superseded by an intent puzzled gaze, and his next question was put in lower tones:
“What did you stay in Avranches for?”
“Because your wife asked me,” said I. The answer was true enough, but, as I wished to deal candidly with him, I added: “And, later on, Mlle. Delhasse expressed a similar desire.”
“My wife and Mlle. Delhasse! Truly you are a favorite!”
“Honest men happen to be scarce in this neighborhood,” said I. I was becoming rather angry.
“If you are one, I hope to be able to make them scarcer by one more,” said the duke.
“Well, we needn’t wrangle over it any more,” said I; and I sat down on the lid of a chest that stood by the hearth. But the duke sprang forward and seized me by the arm, crying again in ungovernable rage:
