.

." "Must I get it myself?
Be quick!" The vicomte was pale with excitement and impatience.
Breton, without further parley, took down the cloak and passed it over to the vicomte.
"Monsieur will find the collar badly torn," he said.
"If he changes his mind, I will return shortly;" and the vicomte threw the cloak over his arm, left the cabin, and closed the door.
Breton wiped his hands on his breeches as if to wipe away the contaminating touch of the cloak.

His eyes were bothering him of late, and he had not read from his favorite book since he left Panurge hunting for the prophetess.

Being now awake and having nothing to do, he took down his master's sword and began polishing the blade.

He had scarce begun his labor when the door opened and the vicomte stood on the threshold.
"My lad," he said, quietly, "you were right.