"
Robert followed his advice. Apparently he had no thought except for his
food, which was delicate, but his ears did not miss any sound that could
reach them. He understood French well, and he caught several whispers
that made the red come to his cheeks. Doubtless they thought he could
not speak their language or they would have been more careful.
Half way through the dinner and the door was thrown open, admitting a
gorgeous figure and a great gust of words. It was a young man in a
brilliant uniform, his hair long, perfumed, powdered and curled, and his
face flushed. Robert recognized him at once as that same Count Jean de
Mezy who had passed them in the flying carriage. Behind came two
officers of about the same age, but of lower rank, seeking his favor and
giving him adulation.
His roving eye traveled around the room, and, resting upon the three
guests, became inflamed.
"Ah, Nemours, and you, Le Moyne," he said, "look there and behold the
two Bostonnais and the Iroquois of whom we have heard, sitting here in
our own Inn of the Eagle!"
"But there is no war, not as yet," said Nemours, although he spoke in an
obsequious tone.
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