"
"It was kindly meant, mademoiselle," Lucas retorted. "Since I shall kill
M. le Comte de Mar in any case, I thought it would pleasure you to have
a word with him first."
I think it did not need the look she gave him to make him regret the
speech. This Lucas was an extraordinary compound of shrewdness and
recklessness, one separating from the other like oil and vinegar in a
sloven's salad. He could plan and toil and wait, to an end, with skill
and fortitude and patience; but he could not govern his own gusty
tempers.
"You have been crying, Lorance," Mayenne said in a softer tone.
"For my sins, monsieur," she answered quickly. "I am grieved most
bitterly to have been the means of bringing this lad into danger. Since
Paul cozened me into doing what I did not understand, and since this is
not the man you wanted but only his servant, will you not let him go
free?"
"Why, my pretty Lorance, I did not mean to harm him," Mayenne protested,
smiling. "I had him flogged for his insolence to you; I thought you
would thank me for it."
"I am never glad over a flogging, monsieur."
"Then why not speak? A word from you and it had stopped."
She flushed red for very shame.
"I was afraid--I knew you vexed with me," she faltered. "Oh, I have done
ill!" She turned to me, silently imploring forgiveness. There was no
need to ask.
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