“My good friend,” said I, “you reason as though a traitor must needs work always in a straight line and never quarrel with his paymaster; whereas by the very nature of treachery these are two of the unlikeliest things in the world.  Now, putting this aside, tell me if you think your Prince Camillo the better for Father Domenico’s company? . . .  You do not, I see.”

“I will not say that,” answered Marc’antonio, slowly.  “The Prince has good qualities.  He will make a Corsican in time.  But, I own to you, he has been ill brought up, and before ever he met with Father Domenico.  As yet he thinks only of his own will, like a spoilt child; and of his pleasures, which are not those of a king such as he desires to be.”

Said I at a guess, “But the pleasures—­eh, Marc’antonio?—­such as a forward boy learns on the pavements; of Brussels, for example?”

I thought for the moment he would have knifed me, so fiercely he started back and then craned forward at me, showing his white teeth.  I saw that my luck with him hung on this moment.

“Tell me,” I said, facing him and dragging hard on the hurry in my voice, “and remember that I owe no love to this cub.  You may be loyal to him as you will, but I am the Princess’s man, I!  You heard me promise her.  Tell me, why has she no recruits?”

He drew back yet farther, still with his teeth bared.  “Am I not her man?” he almost hissed.

“So you tell me,” I answered, with a scornful laugh, brazening it out.  “You are her man, and Stephanu is her man, and the Prince too, and the Father Domenico, no doubt.  Yes, you are all her men, you four:  but why can she collect no others?” I paused a moment and, holding up a hand, checked them off contemptuously upon my fingers.  “Four of you! and among you at least one traitor!  Stop!” said I, as he made a motion to protest.  “You four—­you and Stephanu and the Prince and Fra Domenico—­know something which it concerns her fame to keep hidden; you four, and no other that I wot of.  You are all her men, her champions:  and yet this secret leaks out and poisons all minds against the cause.  Because of it, Paoli will have no dealing with you.  Because of it, though you raise your standard on the mountains, no Corsicans flock to it.  Pah!” I went on, my scorn confounding him, “I called you her champion, the other day!  Be so good as consider that I spoke derisively.  Four pretty champions she has, indeed; of whom one is a traitor, and the other three have not the spirit to track him down and kill him!”

Marc’antonio stood close by me now.  To my amazement he was shaking like a man with the ague.

“Cavalier, you do not understand!” he protested hoarsely:  but his eyes were wistful, as though he hoped for something which yet he dared not hear.

“Eh?  I do not understand?  Well, now, listen to me.  I am her man, too, but in a different fashion.  You heard what I swore to her, that day, beside my friend’s body; that whether in hate or love, and be her need what it might, I would help her.  Hear me repeat it, lying here with my both legs broken, helpless as a log.  Let strength return to me and I will help her yet, and in spite of all her champions.”