You are asking
yourself what will happen if I am here when they arrive. Will I kill you
before I allow myself to be taken? Probably, you say. Men like me value
themselves highly, and sell themselves dearly. You would rather that I
leave before they come. Then you can send them on my track. Very well;
write, monsieur!" And I handed him the pen.
He looked at me with mingled vindictiveness and wonder, as if it were
remarkable that I had uttered the thoughts that any one in his position
must have had. Mechanically he took the pen.
"What shall I write?" he muttered.
"Write thus: To M. de Brissard, governor of Fleurier. Release M. de
Varion immediately. Let him accompany the man who bears this and who
brings a horse for him."
With many baitings, many side glances at Frojac's arquebus and my
sword-point, many glum looks and black frowns, he wrote, while I watched
from across the table. Then he threw the document towards me.
"Sign and seal," I said, tossing it back to him.
With intended slovenliness he affixed the signature and seal, then threw
the pen to the floor. I took the order, scanned it, and handed him
another pen.
"Excellent!" said I. "And now again!"
He made a momentary show of haughty, indignant refusal, but a movement of
my sword quelled the brief revolt in him.
"The bearer of this," I dictated, "M. de Varion, is to pass free in the
province, and to cross the border where he will.
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