"Hang the
Golden Dog as much as you will, but as to the man that touches his
master, I say he will have to fight ME, that is all." Le Gardeur,
after one or two vain attempts, succeeded in drawing his sword, and
laid it upon the table.
"Do you see that, De Pean? That is the sword of a gentleman, and I
will run it through the heart of any man who says he will hurt a
hair of the head of Pierre Philibert, or the Bourgeois, or even the
old Huguenot witch, as you call Dame Rochelle, who is a lady, and
too good to be either your mother, aunt, or cater cousin, in any
way, De Pean!"
"By St. Picot! You have mistaken your man, De Pean!" whispered
Cadet. "Why the deuce did you pitch upon Le Gardeur to carry out
your bright idea?"
"I pitched upon him because he is the best man for our turn. But I
am right. You will see I am right. Le Gardeur is the pink of
morality when he is sober. He would kill the devil when he is half
drunk, but when wholly drunk he would storm paradise, and sack and
slay like a German ritter. He would kill his own grandfather.
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