The House of the Wolf | Page 8

a
single blow, young gentleman," he said, shaking his head waggishly. "I
had fought a dozen times when I was your age. However, I understand
that you refuse to give me satisfaction?"
"In the mode you mention, certainly," I replied. "But--"
"Bah!" he exclaimed with a sneer, "business first and pleasure
afterwards! Bezers will obtain satisfaction in his own way, I promise
you that! And at his own time. And it will not be on unfledged
bantlings like you. But what is this for?" And he rudely kicked the
culverin which apparently he had not noticed before, "So! so!
understand," he continued, casting a sharp glance at one and another of
us. "You looked to be besieged! Why you, booby, there is the shoot of
your kitchen midden, twenty feet above the roof of old Fretis' store!
And open, I will be sworn! Do you think that I should have come this
way while there was a ladder in Caylus! Did you take the wolf for a
sheep?"
With that he turned on his heel, swaggering away in the full enjoyment
of his triumph. For a triumph it was. We stood stunned; ashamed to
look one another in the face. Of course the shoot was open. We
remembered now that it was, and we were so sorely mortified by his
knowledge and our folly, that I failed in my courtesy, and did not see
him to the gate, as I should have done. We paid for that later.
"He is the devil in person!" I exclaimed angrily, shaking my fist at the

House of the Wolf, as I strode up and down impatiently. "I hate him
worse!"
"So do I!" said Croisette, mildly. "But that he hates us is a matter of
more importance. At any rate we will close the shoot."
"Wait a moment!" I replied, as after another volley of complaints
directed at our visitor, the lad was moving off to see to it. What is
going on down there?"
"Upon my word, I believe he is leaving us!" Croisette rejoined sharply.
For there was a noise of hoofs below us, clattering on the pavement.
Half-a-dozen horsemen were issuing from the House of the Wolf, the
ring of their bridles and the sound of their careless voices coming up to
us through the clear morning air Bezers' valet, whom we knew by sight,
was the last of them. He had a pair of great saddle-bags before him, and
at sight of these we uttered a glad exclamation. "He is going!" I
murmured, hardly able to believe my eyes. "He is going after all!"
"Wait!" Croisette answered drily.
But I was right. We had not to wait long. He WAS going. In another
moment he came out himself, riding a strong iron-grey horse: and we
could see that he had holsters to his saddle. His steward was running
beside him, to take I suppose his last orders. A cripple, whom the bustle
had attracted from his usual haunt, the church porch, held up his hand
for alms. The Vidame as he passed, cut him savagely across the face
with his whip, and cursed him audibly.
"May the devil take him!" exclaimed Croisette in just rage. But I said
nothing, remembering that the cripple was a particular pet of
Catherine's. I thought instead of an occasion, not so very long ago,
when the Vicomte being at home, we had had a great hawking party.
Bezers and Catherine had ridden up the street together, and Catherine
giving the cripple a piece of money, Bezers had flung to him all his
share of the game. And my heart sank.

Only for a moment, however. The man was gone; or was going at any
rate. We stood silent and motionless, all watching, until, after what
seemed a long interval, the little party of seven became visible on the
white road far below us--to the northward, and moving in that direction.
Still we watched them, muttering a word to one another, now and again,
until presently the riders slackened their pace, and began to ascend the
winding track that led to the hills and Cahors; and to Paris also, if one
went far enough.
Then at length with a loud "Whoop!" we dashed across the terrace,
Croisette leading, and so through the courtyard to the parlour; where
we arrived breathless. "He is off!" Croisette cried shrilly. "He has
started for Paris! And bad luck go with him!" And we all flung up our
caps and shouted.
But no answer, such as we expected, came from the women folk. When
we picked up our caps, and looked at Catherine, feeling rather foolish,
she was staring at us with a white face and great scornful eyes. "Fools!"
she said. "Fools!"
And that was all. But it was enough