"Shall I tell you of what you are thinking, monsieur," said I, observing on the governor's face a new expression, that of one who listens and makes some mental calculation. "Amuse yourself as you please, monsieur," he answered. "You are thinking, first, that as I am in your chateau, and not alone, I have, doubtless, deprived you of all the soldiers left to guard your chateau; secondly, that at a certain time, a few hours ago, your troops set out for my residence; that they have probably now learned that I am not there; that they have consequently started to return. You are asking yourself what will happen if I am here when they arrive. Will I kill you before I allow myself to be taken? Probably, you say. Men like me value themselves highly, and sell themselves dearly. You would rather that I leave before they come. Then you can send them on my track. Very well; write, monsieur!" And I handed him the pen. He looked at me with mingled vindictiveness and wonder, as if it were remarkable that I had uttered the thoughts that any one in his position must have had. Mechanically he took the pen. "What shall I write?" he muttered. "Write thus: To M. de Brissard, governor of Fleurier. Release M. de Varion immediately. Let him accompany the man who bears this and who brings a horse for him." With many baitings, many side glances at Frojac's arquebus and my sword-point, many glum looks and black frowns, he wrote, while I watched from across the table. Then he threw the document towards me. "Sign and seal," I said, tossing it back to him. With intended slovenliness he affixed the signature and seal, then threw the pen to the floor. I took the order, scanned it, and handed him another pen. "Excellent!" said I. "And now again!" He made a momentary show of haughty, indignant refusal, but a movement of my sword quelled the brief revolt in him. "The bearer of this," I dictated, "M. de Varion, is to pass free in the province, and to cross the border where he will." This time he signed and affixed the seal without additional request. He threw the second pen after the first, and looked up at me with a scowl. "A bold, brave signature, monsieur! There is one pen left!" and I handed him the third quill. He took it with a look of wrath, after which he gave a sigh of forced patience, and sat ready to write. "The bearer of this, Ernanton de Launay--" "Ernanton de Launay?" he repeated, looking up inquiringly. "Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tournoire,--" I went on. He stared at me aghast, as if my presumption really passed all bounds, but a glint of light on my sword caught his eye, he carried his eye along to the point, which was under his nose, and he wrote: "--is to pass free in the province, and from it, with all his company." "No, no, no! I will never write that!" Without an instant's hesitation, I drew back my sword as if to add weight to an intended thrust. He gasped, and then finished the pass, signed it, and attached the seal.