The plan suited him: it left him
free to face either way, and it would fill his pockets more genteelly
than would open robbery. On the other hand, he would offend his brother
and the fanatical party, with whom he commonly acted. They were looking
to see him assert himself. They were looking to hear him declare
himself. And--
Harshly Count Hannibal's voice broke in on his thoughts; harshly, a
something sinister in its tone.
"Where is your brother?" he said. And it was evident that he had not
noted his absence until then. "My lord's Vicar of all people should be
here!" he continued, leaning forward and looking round the table. His
brow was stormy.
Lescot squirmed under his eye; Thuriot turned pale and trembled. It was
one of the canons of St.-Maurice, who at length took on himself to
answer.
"His lordship requested, M. le Comte," he ventured, "that you would
excuse him. His duties--"
"Is he ill?"
"He--"
"Is he ill, sirrah?" Tavannes roared. And while all bowed before the
lightning of his eye, no man at the table knew what had roused the sudden
tempest. But Bigot knew, who stood by the door, and whose ear, keen as
his master's, had caught the distant report of a musket shot. "If he be
not ill," Tavannes continued, rising and looking round the table in
search of signs of guilt, "and there be foul play here, and he the
player, the Bishop's own hand shall not save him! By Heaven it shall
not! Nor yours!" he continued, looking fiercely at Montsoreau.
Pages:
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381