The governor sat rigid in his chair.  Victor’s hand rested on the table; he was ready to rise and meet the blow he knew was coming.

“Explain yourself,” said the governor, coldly.  “You impugn the conduct or honor of some gentleman at my table?  Take care, Monsieur.”

“It is my regret.”

“Who is this person who has aroused your displeasure, and what has he done that he may not sit in the presence of gentlemen?”

Victor rose, white and trembling.

“Sit down, Monsieur de Saumaise,” commanded the governor, sternly.

“He calls himself the Chevalier du Cevennes.”  De Leviston smiled.

Every eye was leveled at the Chevalier.  Victor felt his heart swelling.  It had come at last!  Brother Jacques leaned forward, peering into every face.  D’Herouville’s face was expressive of deep surprise, and the vicomte was staring at De Leviston as if he believed that gentleman to be mad.

“Calls himself the Chevalier du Cevennes?” thundered the governor.  “Calls himself?  This demands an immediate explanation from you, Monsieur de Leviston.”

“I object to sit at a table with a person who does not know who his mother was.”  Each word was deliberately and carefully measured.

“Death of my life!” roared the governor, upon his feet.

The Chevalier reached over and caught De Lauson’s sleeve.  “Hush, Monsieur; what Monsieur de Leviston says is . . . true.”  He got up, white as the broken pipe that lay at the side of his plate.  Under the chair was his hat.  He reached for it.  Looking neither to the right nor to the left, he walked quietly and with dignity from the room.

There was a single laugh, rude and loud.  It came from D’Herouville.

The general silence which followed lasted several minutes.  The Chevalier’s declaration had stunned them.  The governor was first to recover.  He rose again, quietly, though his eyes sparkled with anger.

“Monsieur de Leviston,” he said, “you have wilfully broken and destroyed the peace and dignity of my household.  I shall cross you from my list, and the sooner you return to Montreal, the better.  Your peculiar sense of honor in no wise appeals to me.  It is an ignoble revenge; for do not doubt that I know your own history, Monsieur, and also the part the Chevalier had in it.  But believing you had come to this country to repair your honor, I have assisted you by inviting you to partake of my bounty and of my friendship.”

De Leviston paled, and turned a scowling face to those about him.  He found no sympathy in any eye, not even in D’Herouville’s.

“You have wounded brutally and with intent,” went on the governor, “the heart of a man who has not only proved himself a gentleman, but a hero.  And I add this:  Let no one repeat what has happened, or he shall feel the weight of my displeasure, and my displeasure will mean much to promotion and liberty.”  He pushed his chair under the table, which signified that he was to retire.