After a minute, M. de Lambertie interrupted him.
"I beg your pardon. I speak the English ver' well; but _mordieu_ if
I can comprehend a word as you speak it! _Tenez donc_--You are a spy?"
"Not a bit."
"Well, well," said the Grand Provost, altogether gravelled, "you
_must_ be something--come!"
He called the sergeant again; who plainly could give no information,
and was quite as plainly surprised that any fuss should be made over
an affair so trivial. Indeed, the sergeant ventured to suggest that
Tristram should be branded on the off-chance of its turning out for
his good.
"But no," said M. de Lambertie, "I am a man of justice and of logic.
It is incredible that a youth who cannot speak a word but English
should be a deserter from our Majesty's army. Moreover, I am a
physiognomist, and his face is honest. Therefore," concluded the man
of logic, "he shall go to the galleys."
This was interpreted to Tristram, who found the argument fallacious,
but fell on his knees and kissed M. de Lambertie's hand.
"Take him away," said the Grand Provost. He was dragged to his feet
and led to the door, followed by the desperate eyes of his comrades.
He heard their sobs and outcries renewed above the steady pant of the
bellows.
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