Looking more closely at me, he two or three times muttered my name, and at last said, 'M.

de Marsac?
Ha! I remember.

You were in the affair of Brouage, were you not ?' I nodded my head in token of assent, being unable at the moment to speak, and so shaken that perforce I leaned against the wall, my head sunk on my breast.

The memory of my age, my forty years, and my poverty, pressed hard upon me, filling me with despair and bitterness.

I could have wept, but no tears came.
M.du Mornay, averting his eyes from me, took two or three short, impatient turns up and down the chamber when he addressed me again his tone was full of respect, mingled with such petulance as one brave man might feel, seeing another so hard pressed.