e, else you would--"

But Garnache thrust him quietly aside. "You are very kind, Monsieur
Gaubert," said he, and his manner now was one of frozen calm--a manner
that betrayed none of the frenzy of seething passion underneath.
"I think, sir," said he to the stranger, adopting something of that
gentleman's sardonic manner, "that it will be a more peaceful world
without you. It is that consideration restrains me from apologizing. And
yet, if monsieur will express regret for having sought, and with such
lack of manners, to appropriate my carriage--"

"Enough!" broke in the other. "We are wasting time, and I have a long
journey before me. Courthon," said he, addressing his friend, "will you
bring me the length of this gentleman's sword? My name, sir," he added
to Garnache, "is Sanguinetti."

"Faith," said Garnache, "it sorts well with your bloody spirit."

"And will sort well, no doubt, with his condition presently," put in
hawk-faced Gaubert. "Monsieur de Garnache, if you have no friend at hand
to act for you, I shall esteem myself honoured." And he bowed.

"Why, thanks, sir. You are most opportunely met. You should be a
gentleman since you frequent the Hotel de Bourgogne. My thanks."

Gaubert went aside to confer with Monsieur Courthon. Sanguinetti stood
apart, his manner haughty and impressive, his eye roaming scornfully
through the ranks of what had by now become a crowd. Windows were
opening in the street, and heads appearing, and across the way Garnache
might have beheld the flabby face of Monsieur de Tressan among the
spectators of that little scene.

Rabecque drew near his master.

"Have a care, monsieur," he implored him. "If this should be a trap."

Garnache started. The remark sobered him, and brought to his mind his
own suspicions of yesternight, which his present anger had for the
moment lulled. Still, he conceived that he had gone too far to extricate
himself. But he could at least see to it that he was not drawn away
from the place that sheltered mademoiselle. And so he stepped forward,
joining Courthon and Gaubert, to insist that the combat should take
place in the inn--either in the common room or in the yard. But the
landlord, overhearing this, protested loudly that he could not consent
to it. He had his house to think of. He swore that they should not fight
on his premises, and implored them in the same breath not to attempt it.

At that Garnache, now thoroughly on his guard! was for putting off