“In the first place, my lord duke,” said Lampourde, with perfect _sang-froid_ and gravity, “may it not displease your highness, but I am not a rascal. My name is Jacquemin Lampourde, and I ply the sword for a living. My profession is an honourable one. I have never degraded myself by taking part in trade of any kind, or by manual labour. Killing is my business, at the risk of my own life and limb—for I always do my work alone, unaided, armed only with my trusty sword. Fair play is a jewel, and I would scorn to take a mean advantage of anybody. I always give warning before I attack a man, and let him have a chance to defend himself—having a horror of treachery, and cowardly, sneaking ways. What profession could be more noble than mine, pray? I am no common, brutal assassin, my lord duke, and I beseech your lordship to take back that offensive epithet, which I could never accept, save in a friendly, joking way—it outrages too painfully the sensitive delicacy of my _amour-propre_, my lord!” “Very well, so be it, Maître Jacquemin Lampourde, since you desire it,” answered Vallombreuse, very much amused at the oddity of his strange visitor. “And now have the goodness to explain your business here, with a purse in your hand, that you certainly appear to be steadily offering to me.” Jacquemin satisfied by this concession to his susceptibility, suddenly jerked his head forward, without bending his body, while he waved the hat that he held slowly to and fro, making, according to his ideas, a salute that was a judicious mingling of the soldier’s and the courtier’s—which ceremony being concluded, he proceeded as follows with his explanation: “Here is the whole thing in a nutshell, my lord duke! I received, from Mérindol—acting for your lordship—part payment in advance for despatching a certain Baron de Sigognac, commonly called Captain Fracasse. On account of circumstances beyond my control, I have not been able to finish the job, and as I am a great stickler for honesty, and honour also, I have hastened to bring back to you, my lord duke, the money that I did not earn.” With these words he advanced a step, and with a gesture that was not devoid of dignity, gently laid the purse down on a beautiful Florentine mosaic table, that stood at the duke’s elbow. “Verily,” said Vallombreuse sneeringly, “we seem to have here one of those droll bullies who are good for naught but to figure in a comedy; an ass in a lion’s skin, whose roar is nothing worse than a bray. Come, my man, own up frankly that you were afraid of that same de Sigognac.”