The old gentleman stood up
while his men cried for quarter. He waved them down with an
impatient gesture, and stepped out on the beach. Then I recognized
him. It was the Chevalier de la Darante. I stepped towards him, my
sword drawn.
"Monsieur the Chevalier de la Darante, you are my prisoner," said I.
He started, then recognized me. "Now, by the blood of man! now,
by the blood of man!" he said, and paused, dumfounded.
"You forget me, monsieur?" asked I.
"Forget you, monsieur?" said he. "As soon forget the devil at
mass! But I thought you dead by now, and--"
"If you are disappointed," said I, "there is a way"; and I waved
towards his men, then to Mr. Stevens and my own ambushed fellows.
He smiled an acid smile, and took a pinch of snuff. "It is not
so fiery-edged as that," he answered; "I can endure it."
"You shall have time too for reverie," answered I.
He looked puzzled. "What is't you wish?" he asked.
"Your surrender first," said I, "and then your company at
breakfast."
"The latter has meaning and compliment," he responded, "the former
is beyond me.
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