"I know one thing, and it is something you, fine gentleman
that you are, do not know. I know who my mother was . . ."
The corporal lay upon his back, his eyes bulging, his face purple, his
breaths coming in agonizing gasps.
"Who told you to say that? Quick, or you shall this instant stand in
judgment before the God who made you! Quick!"
There was death in the Chevalier's eyes, and the corporal saw it. He
struggled.
"Quick!"
"Monsieur d'Herouville! . . . You are killing me!"
The Chevalier released the man's throat.
"Get up," contemptuously.
The corporal crawled to his knees and staggered to his feet. "By God,
Monsieur! . . ." adjusting his collar.
"Not a word. How much did he pay you to act thus basely?"
"Pay me?"
"Answer!" taking a step forward.
"Ten livres," sullenly.
The Chevalier's hands opened and closed, convulsively. "Give me those
livres," he commanded.
"To you?" The corporal's jaw fell. "What do you . . . ?"
"Be quick about it, man, if you love your worthless life!"
There was no gainsaying the devil in the Chevalier's eyes.
Scowling blackly, the corporal emptied his pockets.
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