"I could not comprehend it then, but I have learned since that the marquis--our marquis, I mean--had only just come into his title; that the son of the preceding Marquis de la Roche-Guyon had been so long missing that the courts had finally adjudged him dead, and given up his inheritance to his cousin; that the first act of the new marquis was to liberate the Demoiselle de Fontaine from an engagement that stood in the way of her marriage with one more desirable to her; and that the unexpected appearance of the real heir in this sudden and mysterious manner was as great a surprise to him as any mortal circumstance could be. Yet to me, who waited with palpitating heart and anxious ears for what should be said next, there was no evidence of this in his tone. With the politeness we are accustomed to in Frenchmen he observed:
"'You are welcome, Isidor;' and then, as if struck himself by the incongruity between this phrase and the look and manner of his companion, he added, in slow tones--'even if you do bring a sword with you.'
"The other, the real marquis, as I suppose, seemed to hesitate at this, and I began to hope he was ashamed of his dreadful threats and would speedily beg the other's pardon. But I did not know the man, or realize the determination which lay at the bottom of his furious and uncompromising words. But he soon made it evident to us.
"'Louis,' he exclaimed, 'you have always been my evil genius. From our childhood you have stood in my way with your superior strength, beauty, prowess and address. When I was young I simply shrank from you in shame and distaste, but as I grew older I learned to detest you; and now that I see you again, after five years of absence, handsome as ever, taller than ever, and radiant, notwithstanding your nearness to death, with memories such as I have never known, nor can know, and beliefs such as I have never cherished nor will cherish, I hate you so that I find it difficult to wait for the five minutes yet to elapse before my word will let me lift my pistol and fire upon you.'
"'Then it is your hate of me, and not your fondness for your sister, that has led you to lay this trap for me?' exclaimed the other. 'I should think your hate would be satisfied by the change which your return will make in my prospects. From the marquisate of La Roche-Guyon to a simple captaincy in his majesty's guards is quite a step, Isidor. Will it not suffice to soothe an antagonism which I never shared?'