"True again," said the constable; "and I have been surprised that I haven't had to intervene to get you out of trouble, you varlet, who are always drinking when you're not gambling, and rioting when you're not fighting." "And the troublesome hero of the last fifteen days has been not I, Monseigneur, but a certain squire of the new captain of the Guards, Vicomte d'Exmès, one Martin-Guerre." "Yes, I remember now that Martin-Guerre's name has taken Arnauld du Thill's place in the report that I have to examine every evening." "For instance, who was picked up drunk by the watch the other night?" asked Arnauld. "Martin-Guerre." "And who, after a quarrel at the gaming-table on account of dice found to be cogged, struck with his sword the finest of the king's gendarmes?" "Martin-Guerre again." "And who only yesterday was taken in the act of trying to carry off the wife of Master Gorju, the ironmonger?" "Always this same Martin-Guerre," said the constable. "An abominable rascal, to be sure. And his master, this Vicomte d'Exmès, whom I instructed you to keep a sharp watch on, is not likely to be of much more worth than he; for he upholds and defends him, and vows that his squire is the mildest and most sedate of men." "That is what you used to have the goodness to say of me, Monseigneur. Martin-Guerre believes that he is possessed by the Devil, whereas in truth it is I who possess him." "What! What do you mean? You are not Satan, are you?" cried the constable, crossing himself in his terror, for he was as ignorant as a fool, and as superstitious as a monk. Master Arnauld replied only with an infernal leer; but when he thought he had alarmed Montmorency sufficiently, he said,-- "Oh, no, I am not the Devil, Monseigneur. To prove it to you and to reassure you, I ask you to give me fifty pistoles. Now, if I were the Devil, should I have any need of money, and couldn't I draw myself out of all my scrapes with my tail?" "That's true," said the constable; "and here are your fifty pistoles." "Which I have well earned, Monseigneur, by gaining the confidence of Vicomte d'Exmès; for although I am not the Devil, I am a bit of a sorcerer, and have only to don a certain brown doublet, and draw on certain yellow breeches, to make Vicomte d'Exmès speak to me as if I were an old friend and a tried confidant." "Hm! all this has a smack of the gallows," said the constable. "Master Nostradamus, just from seeing me pass in the street, predicted for me, after one glance at my face, that I should die between heaven and earth. So I resign myself to my destiny, and devote it to your interests, Monseigneur. To know that one is to be hung is a priceless advantage. A man who is sure of meeting his end on the gallows, fears nothing, not even the gallows themselves. To begin with, I have made myself the double of Vicomte d'Exmès's squire. I told you that I would accomplish miracles! Now, do you know, or can you guess, who this viscount is?"