CHAPTER XXI.
THE _REMEDIUM_.
Blondel's thin lips were warrant--to such of the world as had eyes to see--that in the ordinary things of life he would have been one of the last to put faith in a man of Basterga's stamp: and one of the first, had the case been other than his own, to laugh at the credulity he was displaying.

He would have seen--no one more clearly--that, in making the bargain he had made, he was in the position of a drowning man who clutches at a straw; not because he believes that the straw will support him, but because he has no other hope, and is loth to sink.
He would have seen, too, another thing, which indeed he did see dimly.
This was that, talk as he might, make terms as he might, repeat as firmly as he pleased, "The _remedium_ first and then Geneva," he would be forced when the time came to take the word for the deed.

If he dared not trust Basterga, neither dared the scholar trust him.

Once safe, once snatched from the dark fate that scared him, he would laugh at the notion of betraying the city.

He would snap his fingers in the Paduan's face; and Basterga knew it.