"Oh," he cried, "you are a faithful servant! We are ridden to death by our faithful servants, we St. Quentins. Myself, I prefer fleas!" He added, growing angrier, "Will you leave me?" "No, monsieur," said I. He glowered at me and I think he had some notion of chasing me away with his sword. But since his dignity could not so stoop, he growled: "Come, then, if you choose to come unasked and most unwelcome!" With this he walked on a yard ahead of me, never turning his head nor saying a word, I following meekly, wondering whither, and devoutly hoping it might be to supper. Presently I observed that we were in a better quarter of the town, and before long we came to a broad, well-lighted inn, whence proceeded a merry chatter and rattle of dice. M. Étienne with accustomed feet turned into the court at the side, and seizing upon a drawer who was crossing from door to door despatched him for the landlord. Mine host came, fat and smiling, unworried by the hard times, greeted Yeux-gris with acclaim as "this dear M. le Comte," wondered at his long absence and bloody shirt, and granted with all alacrity his three demands of a supper, a surgeon, and a bed. I stood back, ill at ease, aching at the mention of supper, and wondering whether I were to be driven off like an obtrusive puppy. But when M. le Comte, without glancing at me, said to the drawer, "Take care of my serving-man," I knew my stomach was safe. That was the most I thought of then, I do confess, for, except for my sausage, I had not tasted food since morning. The barber came and bandaged M. le Comte and put him straight to bed, and I was left free to fall on the ample victuals set before me, and was so comfortable and happy that the Rue Coupejarrets seemed like an evil dream. Since that day I have been an easy mark for beggars if they could but manage to look starved. Presently came a servant to say that my bed was spread in M. le Comte's room, and up-stairs ran I with an utterly happy heart, for I saw by this token that I was forgiven. Indeed, no sooner had I got fairly inside the door than my master raised himself on his sound elbow and called out: "Ah, Félix, do you bear me malice for an ungrateful churl?" "I bear malice?" I cried, flushing. "Monsieur is mocking me. I know monsieur cannot love me, since I attempted his life. Yet my wish is to be allowed to serve him so faithfully that he can forget it." "Nay," he said; "I have forgotten it. And it was freely forgiven from the moment I saw Lucas at my cousin's side." "For the second time," I said, "monsieur saved my life." And I dropped on my knees beside the bed to kiss his hand. But he snatched it away from me and flung his arm around my neck and kissed my cheek. "Félix," he cried, "but for you my hands would be red with my father's blood. You rescued him from death and me from worse. If I have any shreds of honour left 'tis you have saved them to me." "Monsieur," I stammered, "I did naught. I am your servant till I die."