His breeches and hose were of dull hue,
so that the only brightness of color on him was the red of his hair and
lips. It was, doubtless, from an excess of precaution that he went so
well armed in the chateau at so late an hour. Yet I smiled to see
weapons on this slight and fragile-looking youth, whose strength lay in
his brain rather than in his wrist. With great interest I watched him
now, knowing that he had devised the plan for my capture, had caused
Mlle. de Varion to be sent on her mission against me, and had sent De
Berquin on his mission against her. This march of the troops to Maury,
also, was probably his doing, even though it did imply a change from the
plan overheard by me, and confessed by mademoiselle. He had, too, if De
Berquin had told the truth, resolved to possess mademoiselle. He was
thus my worst foe, this subtle youth who had never seen me, and whom I
had never injured. He still had that look of mock humility, repressed
scorn, half-concealed derision, hidden ambition, vast inner resource,
mental activity, all under a calm and thoughtful countenance, over which
he had control.
It was not until they had passed the bed that they saw mademoiselle.
Both stopped and looked astonished. Montignac recognized her at once,
and first frowned, as if annoyed; then looked elated, as if her
presence suited his projects. But La Chatre did not immediately know
her.
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