_Charles-André-Étienne-Marie._
Unpleased, but unprotesting, Vigo led me out into the anteroom. Those
men who judged by the outside of things and, knowing Vigo's iron ways,
said that he ruled Monsieur, were wrong.
The big equery gave me over to the charge of Marcel and returned to the
inner room. Hardly had the door closed behind him when the page burst
out:
"What is it? What is the coil? What have you done, Félix?"
Now you can guess I was too sick-hearted for chatter. I had defied and
disobeyed my liege lord; I could never hope for pardon or any man's
respect. They threatened me with flogging; well, let them flog. They
could not make my back any sorer than my conscience was. For I had not
the satisfaction in my trouble of thinking that I had done right.
Monsieur's danger should have been my first consideration. What was
Yeux-gris, perjured scoundrel, in comparison with M. le Duc? And yet I
knew that at the end of the half-hour I should not tell; at the end of
the flogging I should not tell. I had warned Monsieur; that I would
have done had it been the breaking of a thousand oaths. But give up
Yeux-gris? Not if they tore me limb from limb!
"What is it all about?" cried Marcel, again. "You look as glum as a
Jesuit in Lent. What is the matter with you, Félix?"
"I have cooked my goose," I said gloomily.
"What have you done?"
"Nothing that I can speak about. But I am out of Monsieur's books."
"What was old Vigo after when he took you in to Monsieur? I never saw
anything so bold. When Monsieur says he is not to be disturbed he means
it."