No. All I requi--All I beg--is this one evening. 'Tis all
shall be necessary. After, I shall not need monsieur.
"Take heed to yourself--after!" vouchsafed the Englishman between his
teeth.
"Conquered!" cried M. Beaucaire, and clapped his hands gleefully.
"Conquered for the night! Aha, it ts riz'nable! I shall meet what
you send--after. One cannot hope too much of your patience. It is but
natural you should attemp' a little avengement for the rascal trap I
was such a wicked fellow as to set for you. I shall meet some strange
frien's of yours after to-night; not so? I must try to be not too much
frighten'." He looked at the Duke curiously. "You want to know why I
create this tragedy, why I am so unkind as to entrap monsieur?"
His Grace of Winterset replied with a chill glance; a pulse in the
nobleman's cheek beat less relentlessly; his eye raged not so bitterly;
the steady purple of his own color was returning; his voice was less
hoarse; he was regaining his habit. "'Tis ever the manner of the
vulgar," he observed, "to wish to be seen with people of fashion."
"Oh, no, no, no!" The Frenchman laughed. "'Tis not that. Am I not
already one of these 'men of fashion'? I lack only the reputation of
birth. Monsieur is goin' supply that. Ha, ha! I shall be noble from
to-night. 'Victor,' the artis', is condemn' to death; his throat shall
be cut with his own razor.
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