“No, no,” said Patience; “I want him to hang me; he is right; this is merely my due; and, in fact, it may come more quickly than all the rest.  You must not make too much haste to grow, monsieur; for I—­well, I am making more haste to grow old than I would wish; and you who are so brave, you would not attack a man no longer able to defend himself.”

“You didn’t hesitate to use your strength against me!” I cried.  “Confess, now; didn’t you treat me brutally?  Wasn’t it a coward’s work, that?”

“Oh, children, children!” he said.  “See how the thing reasons!  Out of the mouths of children cometh truth.”

And he moved away dreamily, and muttering to himself as was his wont.  Marcasse took off his hat to me and said in an impassive tone: 

“He is wrong . . . live at peace . . . pardon . . . peace . . . farewell!”

They disappeared; and there ended my relations with Patience.  I did not come in contact with him again until long afterward.

VI

I was fifteen when my grandfather died.  At Roche-Mauprat his death caused no sorrow, but infinite consternation.  He was the soul of every vice that reigned therein, and it is certain that he was more cruel, though less vile, than his sons.  On his death the sort of glory which his audacity had won for us grew dim.  His sons, hitherto held under firm control, became more and more drunken and debauched.  Moreover, each day added some new peril to their expeditions.

Except for the few trusty vassals whom we treated well, and who were all devoted to us, we were becoming more and more isolated and resourceless.  People had left the neighbouring country in consequence of our violent depredations.  The terror that we inspired pushed back daily the bounds of the desert around us.  In making our ventures we had to go farther afield, even to the borders of the plain.  There we had not the upper hand; and my Uncle Laurence, the boldest of us all, was dangerously wounded in a skirmish.  Other schemes had to be devised.  John suggested them.  One was that we should slip into the fairs under various disguises, and exercise our skill in thieving.  From brigands we became pick-pockets, and our detested name sank lower and lower in infamy.  We formed a fellowship with the most noisome characters our province concealed, and, by an exchange of rascally services, once again managed to avoid destitution.

I say we, for I was beginning to take a place in this band of cutthroats when my grandfather died.  He had yielded to my entreaties and allowed me to join in some of the last expeditions he attempted.  I shall make no apologies; but here, gentlemen, you behold a man who has followed the profession of a bandit.  I feel no remorse at the recollection, no more than a soldier would feel at having served a campaign under orders from his general.  I thought that I was still living in the middle ages.  The laws of the land, with all their strength and wisdom, were to me words devoid of meaning.  I felt brave and full of vigour; fighting was a joy.  Truly, the results of our victories often made me blush; but, as they in no way profited myself, I washed my hands of them.  Nay, I remember with pleasure that I helped more than one victim who had been knocked down to get up and escape.