I had but
time to seize Michelot by the collar of his pourpoint and draw him towards
me. But as he trod precipitately backwards a twig snapped 'neath his foot
with a report that in the surrounding stillness was like a pistol shot.
I caught my breath as he who walked in the garden stood still, his face,
wrapped in the shadows of his hat, turned towards us.
"Who goes there?" he shouted. Then getting no reply he came resolutely
forward, whilst I drew a pistol wherewith to welcome him did he come too
near.
On he came, and already I had brought my pistol to a level with his head,
when fortunately he repeated his question, "Who goes there?"--and this time
I recognised the voice of Montr?sor, the very man I could then most wish to
meet.
"Hist! Montr?sor!" I called softly. "'T is I--Luynes."
"So!" he exclaimed, coming close up to me. "You have reached Canaples at
last!"
"At last?" I echoed.
"Whom have you there?" he inquired abruptly.
"Only Michelot."
"Bid him fall behind a little."
When Michelot had complied with this request, "You see, M. de Luynes,"
quoth the officer, "that you have arrived too late.
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