“Whom I killed because he drew a dagger on M. St. Croix de Caylus at the Vicomte’s gate,” I answered steadily.  I had thought about this of course and was ready for it.  “You are aware, M. de Bezers,” I continued, “that the Vicomte has jurisdiction extending to life and death over all persons within the valley?”

“My household excepted,” he rejoined quietly.

“Precisely; while they are within the curtilage of your house,” I retorted.  “However as the punishment was summary, and the man had no time to confess himself, I am willing to—­”

“Well?”

“To pay Father Pierre to say ten masses for his soul.”

The way the Vidame received this surprised me.  He broke into boisterous laughter.  “By our Lady, my friend,” he cried with rough merriment, “but you are a joker!  You are indeed.  Masses?  Why the man was a Protestant!”

And that startled me more than anything which had gone before; more indeed than I can explain.  For it seemed to prove that this man, laughing his unholy laugh was not like other men.  He did not pick and choose his servants for their religion.  He was sure that the Huguenot would stone his fellow at his bidding; the Catholic cry “Vive Coligny!” I was so completely taken aback that I found no words to answer him, and it was Croisette who said smartly, “Then how about his enthusiasm for the true faith, M. le Vidame?”

“The true faith,” he answered—­“for my servants is my faith.”  Then a thought seemed to strike him.  “What is more.” he continued slowly, “that it is the true and only faith for all, thousands will learn before the world is ten days older.  Bear my words in mind, boy!  They will come back to you.  And now hear me,” he went on in his usual tone, “I am anxious to accommodate a neighbour.  It goes without saying that I would not think of putting you, M. Anne, to any trouble for the sake of that rascal of mine.  But my people will expect something.  Let the plaguy fellow who caused all this disturbance be given up to me, that I may hang him; and let us cry quits.”

“That is impossible!” I answered coolly.  I had no need to ask what he meant.  Give up Pavannes’ messenger indeed!  Never!

He regarded me—­unmoved by my refusal—­with a smile under which I chafed, while I was impotent to resent it.  “Do not build too much on a single blow, young gentleman,” he said, shaking his head waggishly.  “I had fought a dozen times when I was your age.  However, I understand that you refuse to give me satisfaction?”

“In the mode you mention, certainly,” I replied.  “But—­”

“Bah!” he exclaimed with a sneer, “business first and pleasure afterwards!  Bezers will obtain satisfaction in his own way, I promise you that!  And at his own time.  And it will not be on unfledged bantlings like you.  But what is this for?” And he rudely kicked the culverin which apparently he had not noticed before, “So! so! understand,” he continued, casting a sharp glance at one and another of us.  “You looked to be besieged!  Why you, booby, there is the shoot of your kitchen midden, twenty feet above the roof of old Fretis’ store!  And open, I will be sworn!  Do you think that I should have come this way while there was a ladder in Caylus!  Did you take the wolf for a sheep?”