I had not looked for the honour of journeying quite so far as Condillac; but since Monsieur de Tressan, whom I made my ambassador, appears to have failed so signally, I am constrained to inflict my presence upon you." "Inflict ?" quoth she, with a pretty look of make-believe dismay.

"How harsh a word, monsieur!" The smoothness of the implied compliment annoyed him.
"I will use any word you think more adequate, madame, if you will suggest it," he answered tartly.
"There are a dozen I might suggest that would better fit the case--and with more justice to yourself," she answered, with a smile that revealed a gleam of white teeth behind her scarlet lips.

"Marcus, bid Benoit bring wine.

Monsieur de Garnache will no doubt be thirsting after his ride." Garnache said nothing.

Acknowledge the courtesy he would not; refuse it he could not.