A twinkle came into Vigo’s eyes.

“I think that is likely true,” he said.  “Monsieur opposed the marriage as long as Mayenne desired it; but now that Mayenne forbids it, stealing the demoiselle is another pair of sleeves.”

“Well, then,” cried M. Etienne, all good humour in a moment, “what more do you want?  We’ll divert ourselves pouring pitch out of the windows on Mayenne’s ruffians.”

“No, M. Etienne, it can’t be done.  If M. le Duc were here and gave the command to receive her, that would be one thing.  No one would obey with a readier heart than I. Mordieu, monsieur, I have no objection to succouring a damsel in distress; I have been in the business before now.”

“Then why not now?  Death of my life, Vigo!  When I know, and you know, Monsieur would approve.”

“I don’t know it, monsieur,” Vigo said.  “I only think it.  And I cannot move by my own guesswork.  I am in charge of the house till Monsieur returns.  I purpose to do nothing to jeopard it.  But I interfere in no way with your liberty to proceed as you please.”

“I should think not, forsooth!” M. Etienne blazed out furiously.

“I could,” rejoined Vigo, with his maddening tranquillity.  “I could order the guard—­and they would obey—­to lock you up in your chamber.  I believe Monsieur would thank me for it.  But I don’t do it.  I leave you free to act as it likes you.”

My lord was white with ire.

“Who is master here, you or I?”

“Neither of us, M. le Comte.  But Monsieur, leaving, put the keys in my hand, and I am head of the house till he returns.  You are very angry, M. Etienne, but my shoulders are broad enough to bear it.  Your madness will get no countenance from me.”

“Hang you for an obstinate pig!” M. Etienne cried.

Vigo said no more.  He had made plain his position; he had naught to add or retract.  Yeux-gris’s face cleared.  After all, there was no use being angry with Vigo; one might as well make fists at the flow of the Seine.

“Very well.”  M. Etienne swallowed his wrath.  “It is understood that I get no aid from you.  Then I have nobody in the world with me save Felix here.  But for all that I’ll win my lady!”

XVIII

To the Bastille.

But Vigo proved better than his word.  If he would give us no countenance, he gave freely good broad gold pieces.  He himself suggested M. Etienne’s need of the sinews of war, not in the least embarrassed or offended because he knew M. le Comte to be angry with him.  He was no feather ruffled, serene in the consciousness that he was absolutely in the right.  His position was impregnable; neither persuasion, ridicule, nor abuse moved him one whit.  He had but a single purpose in life; he was born to forward the interests of the Duke of St. Quentin.  He would forward them, if need were, over our bleeding corpses.