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I wonder now that I did not tell them so, for I was
ever hasty; but my brain was clear that night, and I held myself
in proper check, letting each move come from my enemies. There was
no reason why I should have been at this wild feast at all, I a
prisoner, accused falsely of being a spy, save because of some
plot by which I was to have fresh suffering and some one else be
benefited--though how that could be I could not guess at first.
But soon I understood everything. Presently I heard a young
gentleman say to Duvarney over my shoulder:
"Eating comfits and holding yarn--that was his doing at your
manor when Doltaire came hunting him."
"He has dined at your table, Lancy," broke out Duvarney hotly.
"But never with our ladies," was the biting answer.
"Should prisoners make conditions?" was the sharp, insolent retort.
The insult was conspicuous, and trouble might have followed, but
that Doltaire came between them, shifting the attack.
"Prisoners, my dear Duvarney," said he, "are most delicate and
exacting; they must be fed on wine and milk.


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