The vicomte sank his blade into the earth to cleanse it.
Madame had covered her eyes. The Chevalier, however, had watched the
contest, but without any sign of emotion on his face. He had nothing
to do but wait. He had gained some advantage; one of these men would
be tired.
The vicomte came within a yard of the hut, and stopped. He smiled
evilly and twisted his mustache. By the attitude of the men, the
Chevalier could see that the vicomte had outplanned D'Herouville.
"Chevalier," the vicomte began softly, "for me this is the hour of
hours. You will never learn who your mother was. Gabrielle, sweet one
with the shadowful eyes, you once asked me why this fellow left France.
I will tell you. His father is Monsieur le Marquis de Perigny, but his
mother . . . who can say as to that?"
He could see the horror gather and grow in madame's eyes, but he
misinterpreted it.
"Gabrielle, Gabrielle Diane de Brissac, Montbazon that was, it has been
a long chase. Offer me your congratulations. 'Twas I who made you so
charming a widow. That grey cloak! It has played the very devil with
us all. The tailor who made it must have sprinkled it with the devil's
holy water.
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