He spoke as if actually he felt it important to set himself right in my
eyes.
"Well, we are none. We are no politicians, but private gentlemen with a
grudge to pay. I care not what the parties do. Whether we have the
Princess Isabelle or Henry the Huguenot, 'tis all one to me; I am not
putting either on the throne. So if you have got it into your head that
we are plotting for the League, why, get it out again."
"But you are enemies to the Duke of St. Quentin?"
He answered me slowly:
"We do not love him. But we do not plot his death. He goes his way
unharmed by us. We are gentlemen, not bravos."
"And Lucas?"
"Lucas is my cousin's enemy, and, being a great man's man, skulks behind
the bars of the Hôtel st. Quentin and will not face my cousin's sword.
So to reach him takes a little plotting. Do you believe me?"
I looked into his gray eyes, that had flashed so hotly in my defence,
and I could not but believe him.
"Yes, monsieur," I said.
He regarded me curiously.
"The duke's life seems much to you."
"Why, monsieur, I am a Broux."
"And could not be disloyal to save your life?"
"My life! Monsieur, the Broux would not seek to save their souls if M.
le Duc preferred them damned."
I expected he would rebuke me for the outburst, but he did not; he
merely said:
"And Lucas?"
"Oh, Lucas!" I said. "I know nothing of him. He is new with the duke
since my time. I do not owe him anything, save a grudge for that blow
this morning. Mon dieu, monsieur, I am thankful to you for befriending
me. Dying for Monsieur is all in a day's work; we expect to do that.
But, my faith, if I had died just now, it would have been for Lucas."
At this moment a long groan came from the end of the room. We turned;
the lackey was waking from his swoon, under the ministration of Gervais.
He opened his eyes; their glance was dull till they fell upon his
master. And then at once they looked venomous.
Gervais kicked him into fuller consciousness.
"Get up, hound. It is time to meet Martin."
The wretch scrambled shakily to his feet, and stood clutching the
door-jamb and eying Gervais, terror writ large on his chalky
countenance. Yet there was more than terror in his face; there was the
look you see in the eyes of a trapped animal that watches its chance to
bite. Yeux-gris cried out:
"You dare not send that man, Gervais."
"Why not?"
"Because the moment he is clear of the house he will betray you. Look at
his face."
"He shall swear on the cross!"
"Aye. But you cannot trust the oath of such as he."
"What would you? We must send."
"As you will. But you are mad if you send him."
Gervais pondered a moment, his slower wits taking in the situation. Then
he seized the man by the collar, fairly flung him across the room into
the closet, and bolted the door upon him.
"I will settle with him later. But you are right. We cannot send him."
Yeux-gris burst into laughter.
"My faith! we could not have more trouble if we were heads of the League
than this little duel of yours is giving us. Why, what if we are seen? I
will go."
Gervais started.
"No; that will not do."
"Eh, bien, then, what will you propose?"
But it was some one else who proposed. I said to Yeux-gris:
"Monsieur, if all your purpose is against Lucas and no other, I am your
man. I will go."
"What, my stubborn-neck, you?"
"Why, monsieur, I owe you a great debt. While I thought you meant ill to
M. le Duc, I could not serve you. But this Lucas is another pair of
sleeves. I owe him no allegiance. Moreover, he nearly killed me this
morning. Therefore I am quite at your disposal."
"Now, I wonder if you are lying," said Gervais.
"I do not think he is lying," Yeux-gris said. "I trow, Gervais, we have
got our messenger."
"You tell me to beware of Pontou because he hates me, and then would
have me trust this fellow?" Gervais demanded with some acumen.
I said: "Monsieur, you do not seem to understand how I come to make this
offer."
"To get out of the house with a whole skin."