Your master wants the purple cloak.

I was wrong." Without replying, Breton hung up the grey cloak and took down another.
"Is Monsieur le Vicomte seasick ?" he asked.
"It is hunger, lad, which makes me pale." As the vicomte reappeared upon deck, he saw D'Herouville biting his nails.

He met the questioning glance, and laughed coldly and mirthlessly.
"Chevalier," said the vicomte, "your lackey handed me the grey cloak first." "The grey cloak ?" "Yes; but I recalled its history, and returned with this.

Hang me, but you have a peculiar fancy.

In your place, I should have burned that cloak long ago." D'Herouville looked interested.
"I have a morbid fancy for that cloak," returned the Chevalier.