The Chevalier sat, or rather dropped into his chair again. "Then you are not the Comte de Tournay, monsieur," said he hopelessly. "Then I shall not dine with you to-day," retorted Detricand gaily. You fit the tale," said de Mauprat dubiously, touching the letter with his finger. "Let me see," rejoined Detricand. "I've been a donkey farmer, a shipmaster's assistant, a tobacco pedlar, a quarryman, a wood merchant, an interpreter, a fisherman--that's very like the Comte de Tournay! On Monday night I supped with a smuggler; on Tuesday I breakfasted on soupe a la graisse with Manon Moignard the witch; on Wednesday I dined with Dormy Jamais and an avocat disbarred for writing lewd songs for a chocolate-house; on Thursday I went oyster-fishing with a native who has three wives, and a butcher who has been banished four times for not keeping holy the Sabbath Day; and I drank from eleven o'clock till sunrise this morning with three Scotch sergeants of the line--which is very like the Comte de Tournay, as you were saying, Chevalier! I am five feet eleven, and the Comte de Tournay was five feet ten--which is no lie," he added under his breath. "I have a scar, but it's over my left shoulder and not over my right--which is also no lie," he added under his breath. "De Tournay's hair was brown, and mine, you see, is almost a dead black--fever did that," he added under his breath. "De Tournay escaped the day after the Battle of Jersey from the prison hospital, I was left, and here I've been ever since--Yves Savary dit Detricand at your service, chevalier." A pained expression crossed over the Chevalier's face. "I am most sorry; I am most sorry," he said hesitatingly. "I had no wish to wound your feelings." "Ah, it is de Tournay to whom you must apologise," said Detricand musingly, with a droll look. "It is a pity," continued the Chevalier, "for somehow all at once I recalled a resemblance. I saw de Tournay when he was fourteen--yes, I think it was fourteen--and when I looked at you, monsieur, his face came back to me. It would have made my cousin so happy if you had been the Comte de Tournay and I had found you here." The old man's voice trembled a little. "We are growing fewer every day, we Frenchmen of the ancient families. And it would have made my cousin so happy, as I was saying, monsieur." Detricand's manner changed; he became serious. The devil-may-care, irresponsible shamelessness of his face dropped away like a mask. Something had touched him. His voice changed too. "De Tournay was a much better fellow than I am, chevalier," said he--" and that's no lie," he added under his breath. "De Tournay was a fiery, ambitious, youngster with bad companions. De Tournay told me he repented of coming with Rullecour, and he felt he had spoilt his life--that he could never return to France again or to his people." The old Chevalier shook his head sadly. "Is he dead?" he asked.