Their horses were
probably not far away.
"Ha!" laughed De Berquin, in answer to my words and movement. "So you
don't share Barbemouche's own opinion of his beauty?"
An unctuous guffaw from the fat rascal, and a grim chuckle from gaunt
Francois, indicated that Barbemouche's ugliness was a favorite subject of
mirth with his comrades.
"The opinion of a dead lackey does not amount to much," gutturally
observed Barbemouche. Doubtless I should have felt the point of his
rapier between my shoulders but that he waited on the will of De Berquin.
His tone showed that he really had the high regard for his looks that De
Berquin's words had implied. It afterward became evident to me that the
ugliness of this burly rascal was equalled only by his vanity.
"Nor is a dead lackey half as useful as a living one can be," I said,
looking De Berquin straight in the eyes.
"_Par dieu_! I admit that you have been very useful against me, and that
is why I am going to kill you," replied De Berquin.
"Would it not be more worthy of a man of intellect, like the Vicomte de
Berquin, if I have been useful against him, to make me pay for it by
being useful for him?" I said, quietly, without having yet the least idea
of what service I should propose doing him in return for my life.
"Most interesting of lackeys, how might you be useful to me?" inquired De
Berquin, continuing his mood of sinister jocularity.
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