His admiration and respect for Monsieur de Garnache grew enormously.

When the rash Parisian had left him that afternoon for the purpose of carrying his message himself to Condillac, Tressan had entertained little hope of ever again seeing him alive.
Yet there he stood, as calm and composed as ever, announcing that singlehanded he had carried out what another might well have hesitated to attempt with a regiment at his heels.
Tressan's curiosity urged him to beg for the details of this marvel, and Garnache entertained him with a brief recital of what had taken place, whereat, realizing that Garnache had indeed outwitted them, the Seneschal's wonder increased.
"But we are not out of the quagmire yet," cried Garnache; "and that is why I want an escort." Tressan became uneasy.

"How many men shall you require ?" he asked, thinking that the Parisian would demand at least the half of a company.
"A half-dozen and a sergeant to command them." Tressan's uneasiness was dissipated, and he found himself despising Garnache more for his rashness in being content with so small a number than he respected him for the boldness and courage he had so lately displayed.

It was not for him to suggest that the force might prove insufficient; rather was it for him to be thankful that Garnache had not asked for more.

An escort Tressan dared not refuse him, and yet refuse it him he must have done--or broken with the Condillacs--had he asked for a greater number.