" The Chevalier laughed without
merriment. "The marquis and charity? Why not oil and water? They mix
equally well."
"You do not seem quite friendly toward the Marquis?" suggested Brother
Jacques.
"No; I am not particularly fond of Monsieur le Marquis," patting the
pommel of his sword.
"Monsieur le Marquis has wronged you?" asked the priest, a fire leaping
into his eyes.
"It is a private affair, Monsieur," coldly.
"Pardon me!" Brother Jacques made a gesture of humility. He rolled
the bread crumbs into a ball which he dropped into the bowl. Presently
he pushed aside the bowl and rose, his long black cassock falling to
his ankles. He drew his rosary through his belt and put on his
shovel-shaped hat.
Again the Chevalier's attention was drawn toward the mutilated hand.
"The pastimes of savages, Monsieur," Brother Jacques said grimly,
holding out his hand for inspection: "the torture of the pipe, which I
stood but poorly. Well, my brother, I am outward bound, and Rouen is
far away. The night is beautiful, for the wind will drive away the
snow-clouds and the stars will shine brightly. Peace be with you.
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