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Runkle, Bertha, 1879-1958

"Helmet of Navarre"

"
"There speaks the general! There speaks the gentleman!" Lucas cried out.
"A general hangs a spy, yet he profits by spying. The spy runs the
risks, incurs the shames; the general sits in his tent, his honour
untarnished, pocketing all the glory. Faugh, you gentlemen! You will not
do dirty work, but you will have it done for you. You sit at home with
clean hands and eyes that see not, while we go forth to serve you. You
are the Duke of Mayenne. I am your bastard nephew, living on your
favour. But you go too far when you sneer at my smirches."
He was on his feet, standing over Mayenne, his face blazing. M. Etienne
made an instinctive step forward, thinking him about to knife the duke.
But Mayenne, as we well knew, was no craven.
"Be a little quieter, Paul," he said, unmoved. "You will have the guard
in, in a moment."
Lucas held absolutely still for a second. So did Mayenne. He knew that
Lucas, standing, could stab quicker than he defend. He sat there with
both hands on the table, looking composedly up at his nephew. Lucas
flung away across the room.
"I shall have dismissed these people directly," Mayenne continued. "Then
you can tell me your tale."
"I can tell it now in two words," Lucas answered, coming abruptly back.
"Belin signed the warrant, and sent a young ass of the burgher guard
after Mar.


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