As it was--! he let his arms fall to his sides in his miserable despair.
"Your wine, monsieur," said Rabecque at his elbow.

He turned, and took the cup of mulled drink from his servant.

The beverage warmed him in body; but it would need a butt of it to thaw the misery from his soul.
"Rabecque," he said with a pathetic grimness, "I think I am the most cursed blunderer that ever was entrusted with an errand." The thing so obsessed his mind that he must speak of it, if it be only to his lackey.

Rabecque's sharp face assumed a chastened look.

He sighed most dutifully.