"Double fool! to lose him for the sake of a
lie, a damnable lie, and the lack of courage to own to it!" A Venetian
mirror caught his attention. He stood before it, and seeing his
reflection he beat the glass into a thousand fragments.
Jehan appeared, white and trembling, carrying his master's candlestick.
"Ah!" cried the marquis. "'Tis you. Jehan, call your master a fool."
"I, Monsieur?" Jehan retreated.
"Aye; or I promise to beat your worthless body within an inch of death.
Call me a fool, whose wrath, over-leaped his prudence and sense of truth
and honor. Call me a fool."
"Oh!"
"Quickly!" The cane rose.
"God forgive me this disrespect! . . . Monsieur, you are a fool!"
"A senile, doting fool."
"A senile, doting fool!" repeated Jehan, weeping.
"That is well. My candle. Listen to me." The marquis moved toward the
staircase. "Monsieur le Comte has left this house for good and all, so
he says. Should he return to-morrow . . ."
Jehan listened attentively, as attentively as his dazed mind would permit.
"Should he come back within a month . . ." The marquis had by this time
reached the first landing.
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