“Then I propose supper.”

Afterward we played shovel-board, I risking the pistoles mademoiselle had given me.  I won five more, for he paid little heed to what he was about, but was ever fidgeting over to the window to see if it was dark enough to start.  At length, when it was still between dog and wolf, he announced that he would delay no longer.

“Very well, monsieur,” I said with all alacrity.

“But you are not to come!”

“Monsieur!”

“Certainly not.  I must go alone to-night.”

“But, monsieur, you will need me.  You will need some one to watch the street while you speak with mademoiselle.”

“I can have no listener to-night,” he replied immovably.

“But I will not listen, monsieur!  I shall stand out of ear-shot.  But you must have some one to give you warning should the guard set on you.”

“I can manage my own affairs,” he retorted haughtily; “I desire neither your advice nor your company.”

“Monsieur!” I cried, almost in tears.

“Enough!” he bade sharply.  “Go send me Vigo.”

I went like one in whose face the doors of heaven had shut.

Vigo came at once from the guard-room at my summons.  It was on my tongue to tell him of M. le Comte’s mad resolve to fare forth alone; to beg him to stop it.  But I remembered how blameworthy I myself had held the equery for interfering with M. Etienne, and I made up my mind that no word of cavil at my lord should ever pass my lips.  I lagged across the court at Vigo’s heels, silent.

M. Etienne was standing in the doorway.

“Vigo,” he said, without a change of countenance, “get Felix a rapier, which he can use prettily enough.  I cannot take him out to-night unarmed.”

Vigo hesitated a moment, saluted, and went.

“Monsieur,” I cried out, “you meant all the time to take me!”

He gazed down on my heated visage and laughed and laughed.

“Felix,” he gasped, “you had your sport over there at the inn.  But I have seen nothing this summer as funny as your face.”

Vigo came back with a sword and baldric for me, and a horse-pistol besides, but M. Etienne would not let me have it.

“Circumstances are such, Vigo, that I want no noisy weapons.”

The equery regarded him with a troubled countenance.

“I wish I knew, monsieur, whether I do right to let you go.”

“We will not discuss that, an it please you.”

“I do not, monsieur.  I have no right to curtail M. le Comte’s liberties.  But I let you go with a heavy heart.”