garrison of this place. I'll need for
shield some one who will see to it that he is not hurt himself, just as
I shall see to it that he is hurt before I am."

"What do you mean? Speak out, Fortunio," the Marquise bade him.

"I mean, madame, that I will go, not to do this thing, but to stand by
and render help if help be needed. Let Monsieur de Condillac go, and
I will go with him, and I will undertake to see to it that he returns
unhurt and that we leave the other stark."

Both started, and the Seneschal leaned heavily upon the table. He was
not, with all his faults, a man of blood, and this talk of butchery
turned him sick and faint.

Vainly now did the Marquise seek to alter the captain's resolution; but
in this she received a sudden check from Marius himself. He cut in upon
her arguments to ask the captain:

"How can you promise so much? Do you mean that you and I must fall upon
him? You forget that he will have men about him. A duel is one thing,
a rough-and-tumble another, and we shall fare none so well in this, I'm
thinking."

The captain closed one eye, and a leer of subtle cunning overspread his
face.

"I've thought of that," said he. "Neither a duel nor a rough-and-tumble
do I propose, but something between the two; something that shall seem a
duel yet be a rough-and-tumble."

"Explain yourself."

"What further explanation does it ask? We come upon Monsieur le Marquis
where his men are not. We penetrate, let us say, into his chamber. I
turn the key in the door. We are alone with him and you provoke him. He
is angry, and must fight you there and then. I am your friend; I must
fill the office of second for both sides. You engage, and I stand aside
and let you fight it out. You say he is indifferently skilled with the
sword, and, in addition, that he has a fever. Thus you should contrive
to put your steel through him, and a duel it will have been. But if by
luck or skill he should have you in danger, I shall be at hand to flick
in my sword at the right moment and make an opening through which you
may send yours home."

"Believe me it were better--" began the Dowager. But Marius, who of a
sudden was much taken with the notion, again broke in.

"Are you to be depended upon to make no mistake, Fortunio?"

"Per Bacco!" swore the ruffler. "A mistake must cost me a hundred
pistoles. I think you may depend upon me there. If I err at all, it will
be on the side of eagerness to see you make short work of hi