I wouldn't have a mischief happen to you." Andre-Louis looked at him, smiling wanly.
"I swore an oath to-day which it would damn my soul to break." "You mean that you'll go in spite of anything that I may say ?" Impetuous as he was inconsequent, M.de Kercadiou was bristling again.

"Very well, then, go...

Go to the devil!" "I will begin with the King's Lieutenant." "And if you get into the trouble you are seeking, don't come whimpering to me for assistance," the seigneur stormed.

He was very angry now.
"Since you choose to disobey me, you can break your empty head against the windmill, and be damned to you." Andre-Louis bowed with a touch of irony, and reached the door.
"If the windmill should prove too formidable," said he, from the threshold, "I may see what can be done with the wind.

Good-bye, monsieur my godfather." He was gone, and M.de Kercadiou was alone, purple in the face, puzzling out that last cryptic utterance, and not at all happy in his mind, either on the score of his godson or of M.de La Tour d'Azyr.