"Well said, boy! Well said!" cried the old commander. "Do you hear that, Estoc? He's no chicken now, eh? By my faith, Anthony will find himself mistaken. I like that well. You are right, Louis, to say, you _will not suffer_ any one to interrupt us. That's the true tone. I have grown into a sort of some dependence here, thanks to my infirmities. I let them have all their own way; but, parbleu, it will not do, for they turn tyrants when they are over indulged." "I have come here, my dear uncle," replied his nephew, "with all reverence and respect for Monsieur de Liancourt. But my days of pupilage are over. While I stay in his house my chamber is my own, where I receive whom I like, when I like, and suffer not myself to be interfered with, (so long as I observe the courtesies of life,) when I am otherwise engaged. Whenever an attempt is made to restrain that communication with others that I may choose to hold, I leave the place, and take my lodging elsewhere." "Right, right," cried the officer, "and if you go I will go with you, Louis. But sit down, Estoc. We have much to talk about, my boy. I trust you kept your word with me--I trust you promised nothing to the priest. He is a good man in the main; but shrewd, Louis, shrewd as a winter's night--pile up the fire, Estoc. You promised nothing, eh, Louis?" "Nothing, Sir," replied the young Baron. "I merely assured him, that no consideration on earth would induce me to do ought that would thwart the inclinations, or impede the happiness, of Mademoiselle d'Albret, but that, for the decision of my conduct, I must have time to consider, and that well." "Ah no! I am sure you would not! Poor dear little Rose, God bless her," cried the commander, "she deserves all tenderness. But if you did what they want, you would mar her happiness too, boy. Now let me hear what they sought of you. Then I will tell my tale." De Montigni recapitulated, as well as he could, all that had passed between himself, his uncle, and the priest. He knew he could trust to those with whom he spoke; and he strove to give the words that had been uttered as nearly as possible without change. He might indeed add a running commentary of his own conclusions, but he falsified nothing, he exaggerated nothing. As he proceeded, his good uncle leaned his chin upon his stick, and listened without replying a word, though once or twice he struck the point of the staff sharply on the floor. Old Estoc, however, was not so patient or so taciturn; for more than once, he uttered a quick oath, and murmured from time to time "Pardie!--Morbleu!--Coquin!" in tones which showed that he was not at all edified with the reported discourse of Monsieur de la Tremblade.