Almost he could hear that insolent, pleasant voice making the
flippant announcement to the Assembly on Monday morning.
He shook off the mood, angry with himself for entertaining it.
It was maudlin. After all Chabrillane and La Motte-Royau were
quite exceptional swordsmen, but neither of them really approached
his own formidable calibre. Reaction began to flow, as he drove
out through country lanes flooded with pleasant September sunshine.
His spirits rose. A premonition of victory stirred within him
Far from fearing Monday's meeting, as he had so unreasonably been
doing; he began to look forward to it. It should afford him the
means of setting a definite term to this persecution of which he
had been the victim. He would crush this insolent and persistent
flea that had been stinging him at every opportunity. Borne upward
on that wave of optimism, he took presently a more hopeful view
of his case with Aline.
At their first meeting a month ago he had used the utmost frankness
with her. He had told her the whole truth of his motives in going
that night to the Feydau; he had made her realize that she had acted
unjustly towards him.
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