Madame Geffroi thought that horses of some kind could be procured, though they would probably not be good ones. But then the travellers would not want to make long stages at first, she added, looking warningly on Louis and almost threateningly on the Marquis. Resigning herself with her accustomed decision to the inevitable, she presumed that if they really meant to start early next morning, she had better take steps about the horses at once, upon which Louis called her an angel, and she left the room shaking her head. “I hope this good woman will not pay for her kindness,” said Gilbert. “I trust not,” returned Louis rather absently. “But I can scarcely imagine any one bold enough to call her to account.” Château-Foix, who was gazing out of the window, turned round and took a good look at him. The bandages visible through his thin and now much-mended shirt, the sling above it, and indeed his whole appearance, thrust again on Gilbert that possibility which he so profoundly wished had never occurred to him. “How much do you remember of what happened at the Gerbe d’Or?” he asked suddenly. Louis, who was apparently lost in contemplation of an exceedingly well-shaped leg, looked up in surprise. “What is the Gerbe d’Or? Oh, I recollect. Why, I suppose I remember as much as you do.” “Then that is not very much,” said his cousin. “Which was the man that stabbed you?” “Are you vowing vengeance?” asked Louis lazily. “Why, the tall one, of course. The other had no chance; you were taking up too much of his time. My friend had the knife in his waistbelt, I suppose; I never saw him draw it. But, if it is any satisfaction to you, I think you knocked him down yourself afterwards. In fact you must have done, for I certainly didn’t; I was lying on top of their horrible dirty plates.” “He was behind me, was he not?” “I don’t know,” said the Vicomte. “Are you going to write an account of this dastardly outrage for the newspapers? because, as an aristocrat, you will not get any sympathy.” “I am sure he was behind me,” pursued Gilbert. “He was behind me, but you called out to me to turn, and then he stabbed you.” “Did I? Very likely. After all, you do seem to remember more than I. I am sorry to be such a bad witness, but I really know nothing more about that particular episode.” Evidently Louis had not the faintest idea that he had any claim on Gilbert’s gratitude, or else, for some reason, he had chosen to forget it. At any rate, there was no more to be got out of him, and Château-Foix abandoned the attempt. “I shall not stay with you any longer,” said he. “You had better lie down and rest, had you not, if we are to start early to-morrow?” Louis assented, and bent to pick up the shawl. “I am sorry,” he remarked in a casual tone, “that I was so uncivil just now. It is you who have a better right to be annoyed. You must have been horribly bored these last few days.” “Oh no,” said the Marquis, “not bored!” CHAPTER XXII