He nodded sulkily in answer to my greeting, and cast a half-shamed, half-angry look at me out of the corners of his eyes. ‘You need not look at me as though I were a dog,’ he muttered presently. ‘You are not so very spruce yourself, my friend. But I suppose you have grown proud since you got that fat appointment at Court!’ And he laughed out loud, so that I confess I was in two minds whether I should not force the jest down his ugly throat. However I restrained myself, though my cheeks burned. ‘You have heard about it, then,’ I said, striving to speak indifferently. ‘Who has not?’ he said, laughing with his lips, though his eyes were far from merry. ‘The Sieur de Marsac’s appointment! Ha! ha! Why, man--’ ‘Enough of it now!’ I exclaimed. And I dare say I writhed on my seat. ‘As far as I am concerned the jest is a stale one, sir, and does not amuse me.’ ‘But it amuses me,’ he rejoined with a grin. ‘Let it be, nevertheless,’ I said; and I think he read a warning in my eyes. ‘I have come to speak to you upon another matter.’ He did not refuse to listen, but threw one leg over the other, and looking up at the inn-sign began to whistle in a rude, offensive manner. Still, having an object in view, I controlled myself and continued. ‘It is this, my friend: money is not very plentiful at present with either of us.’ Before I could say any more he turned on me savagely, and with a loud oath thrust his bloated face, flushed with passion, close to mine. ‘Now look here, M. de Marsac!’ he cried violently, ‘once for all, it is no good! I have not got the money, and I cannot pay it. I said a fortnight ago, when you lent it, that you should have it this week. Well,’ slapping his hand on the bench, I have not got it, and it is no good beginning upon me. You cannot have it, and that is flat!’ ‘Damn the money!’ I cried. ‘What?’ he exclaimed, scarcely believing his ears. ‘Let the money be!’ I repeated fiercely. ‘Do you hear? I have not come about it, I am here to offer you work--good, well-paid work--if you will enlist with me and play me fair, Fresnoy.’ ‘Play fair!’ he cried with an oath. ‘There, there,’ I said, ‘I am willing to let bygones be bygones if you are. The point is, that I have an adventure on hand, and, wanting help, can pay you for it.’ He looked at me cunningly, His eye travelling over each rent and darn in my doublet. ‘I will help you fast enough,’ he said at last. ‘But I should like to see the money first.’ ‘You shall,’ I answered. ‘Then I am with you, my friend. Count on me till death!’ he cried, rising and laying his hand in mine with a boisterous frankness which did not deceive me into trusting him far. ‘And now, whose is the affair, and what is it?’ ‘The affair is mine,’ I said coldly. ‘It is to carry off a lady.’ He whistled and looked me over again, an impudent leer in his eyes. ‘A lady?’ he exclaimed. ‘Umph! I could understand a young spark going in for such--but that’s your affair. Who is it?’