The Marquis de Condillac, as no doubt you will have learned for yourself, is lying at La Rochette.

Now it happens that he is noxious to us--let the reasons be what they may.

We need a friend to put him out of our way.

Will you be that friend ?" "You will observe," sneered Marius, "how wide a difference there is between what the Marquise suggests and my own frank question of what price you would take to cut my brother's throat." "I observe no difference, which is what you would say," Fortunio answered truculently, his head well back, his brown eyes resentful of offence--for none can be so resentful of imputed villainy as your villain who is thorough-paced.

"And," he concluded, "I return you the same answer, madame--that I am no cut-throat." She repressed her anger at Marius's sneering interference, and made a little gesture of dismay with her eloquent white hands.
"But we do not ask you to cut a throat." "I have heard amiss, then," said he, his insolence abating nothing.
"You have heard aright, but you have understood amiss.