THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
plaything of fortune. That child, Cornbury, was myself.”
The Irishman put his arm upon Monsieur Mornay’s shoulder and clasped him by the hand.
They stood thus a moment until Cornbury broke away and, with a shout that made the rafters ring, again filled the drinking-bowls upon the table.
“A health, monsieur!” he cried. “You’ll never drink a better. To the better fortunes of René d’Añasco, Vicomte de Bresac!”
