The room was crowded, for Rodenard alone had brought with him my twenty followers.

One of these looked up as I brushed past him, and uttered a cry of surprise upon recognizing me.

But Rodenard talked on, engrossed in his theme to the exclusion of all else.
"Monsieur le Marquis," he was saying, "is a gentleman whom it is, indeed, an honour to serve--" A scream burst from him with the last word, for the lash of my whip had burnt a wheal upon his well-fed sides.
"It is an honour that shall be yours no more, you dog!" I cried.
He leapt high into the air as my whip cut him again.

He swung round, his face twisted with pain, his flabby cheeks white with fear, and his eyes wild with anger, for as yet the full force of the situation had not been borne in upon him.

Then, seeing me there, and catching something of the awful passion that must have been stamped upon my face, he dropped on his knees and cried out something that I did not understand for I was past understanding much just then.
The lash whistled through the air again and caught him about the shoulders.