He remembered who he was and what he was the King's Lord Seneschal of the Province of Dauphiny.
Throughout that province, from the Rhone to the Alps, his word was law, his name a terror to evildoers--and to some others besides.

Was he to blench and tremble at the mention of the name of a Court lackey out of Paris, who brought him a message from the Queen-Regent?
Body of God! not he.
He heaved himself to his feet, warmed and heartened by the thought; his eye sparkled, and there was a deeper flush than usual upon his cheek.
"Admit this Monsieur de Garnache," said he with a fine loftiness, and in his heart he pondered what he would say and how he should say it; how he should stand, how move, and how look.

His roving eye caught sight of his secretary.

He remembered something--the cherished pose of being a man plunged fathoms-deep in business.

Sharply he uttered his secretary's name.
Babylas raised his pale face; he knew what was coming; it had come so many times before.