draw
blood, once from the shoulder and once from the leg of his opponent,
and the blood was flowing from each wound. After the second injury they
stood panting for a moment. Now the outside world was shut out from
Fournel's senses as it was from Louis Racine's. The only world they knew
was this cool room, whose oak floors were browned by the slow searching
stains of Time, and darkened by the footsteps of six generations that
had come and gone through the old house. The books along the walls
seemed to cry out against the unseemly and unholy strife. But now both
men were in that atmosphere of supreme egoism where only their two
selves moved, and where the only thing that mattered on earth was the
issue of this strife. Fournel could only think of how to save his
life, and to do that he must become the aggressor, for his wounds
were bleeding hard, and he must have more wounds, if the fight went on
without harm to the Seigneur.

"You know now what it is to insult a Frenchman--On guard!" again cried
the Seigneur, in a shriller voice, for everything in him was pitched to
the highest note.

He again attacked, and the sound of the large swords meeting clashed
on the soft air. As they struggled, a voice came ringing through the
passages, singing a bar from an opera:

"Oh eager golden day, Oh happy evening hour,
Behold my lover cometh from fields of wrath and hate!
Sheathed is his sword; he cometh to my bower;
In war he findeth honour, and love within the gate."

The voice came nearer and nearer. It pierced the tragic separateness of
the scene of blood. It reached the ears of the Seigneur, and a look of
pain shot across his face. Fournel was only dimly aware of the voice,
for he was hard pressed, and it seemed to come from infinite distances.
Presently the voice stopped, and some one tried the door of the room.

It was Madelinette. Astonished at finding it locked, she stood still a
moment uncertain what to do. Then the sounds of the struggle within came
to her ears. She shook the door, leaned her shoulders against it,
and called, "Louis! Louis!" Suddenly she darted away, found Havel the
faithful servant in the passage, and brought him swiftly to the door.
The man sprang upon it, striking with his shoulder. The lock gave, the
door flew open, and Madelinette stepped swiftly into the room, in time
to see George Fournel sway and fall, his sword rattling on the hard oak
floor.

"Oh, what have you done, Loui