It was so far from anything that he had expected that for a moment he could only stare at her.  Then he thought he had understood.  He laughed as he removed her hands from his shoulders, and stepped back.  This was a shallow device, childish and unworthy in her.

“Can you really think to prevail by attempting to frighten me?” he asked, and almost sneered.

“Oh, you are surely mad!  M. de La Tour d’Azyr is reputed the most dangerous sword in France.”

“Have you never noticed that most reputations are undeserved?  Chabrillane was a dangerous swordsman, and Chabrillane is underground.  La Motte-Royau was an even more dangerous swordsman, and he is in a surgeon’s hands.  So are the other spadassinicides who dreamt of skewering a poor sheep of a provincial lawyer.  And here to-day comes the chief, the fine flower of these bully-swordsmen.  He comes, for wages long overdue.  Be sure of that.  So if you have no other reason to urge...”

It was the sarcasm of him that mystified her.  Could he possibly be sincere in his assurance that he must prevail against M. de La Tour d’Azyr?  To her in her limited knowledge, her mind filled with her uncle’s contrary conviction, it seemed that Andre-Louis was only acting; he would act a part to the very end.

Be that as it might, she shifted her ground to answer him.

“You had my uncle’s letter?”

“And I answered it.”

“I know.  But what he said, he will fulfil.  Do not dream that he will relent if you carry out this horrible purpose.”

“Come, now, that is a better reason than the other,” said he.  “If there is a reason in the world that could move me it would be that.  But there is too much between La Tour d’Azyr and me.  There is an oath I swore on the dead hand of Philippe de Vilmorin.  I could never have hoped that God would afford me so great an opportunity of keeping it.”

“You have not kept it yet,” she warned him.

He smiled at her.  “True!” he said.  “But nine o’clock will soon be here.  Tell me,” he asked her suddenly, “why did you not carry this request of yours to M. de La Tour d’Azyr?”

“I did,” she answered him, and flushed as she remembered her yesterday’s rejection.  He interpreted the flush quite otherwise.

“And he?” he asked.

“M. de La Tour d’Azyr’s obligations... " she was beginning:  then she broke off to answer shortly:  “Oh, he refused.”

“So, so.  He must, of course, whatever it may have cost him.  Yet in his place I should have counted the cost as nothing.  But men are different, you see.”  He sighed.  “Also in your place, had that been so, I think I should have left the matter there.  But then... "

“I don’t understand you, Andre.”

“I am not so very obscure.  Not nearly so obscure as I can be.  Turn it over in your mind.  It may help to comfort you presently.”  He consulted his watch again.  “Pray use this house as your own.  I must be going.”