laced."

The young man's pallid features betrayed the conflict in his breast. To
do him justice, his hand itched for the sword-hilt--he was brave enough
for that; he hated, and only so could he avenge himself. But the penalty
if he had the worse! And yet what of it? He was in hell now, in a hell
of humiliation, shame, defeat, tormented by this fiend! 'Twas only to
risk a lower hell.

At last, "I will do it!" he cried hoarsely. "Give me a sword and look to
yourself."

"You promise?"

"Yes, yes, I promise!"

"Good," Count Hannibal answered suavely, "but we cannot fight so, we must
have more light."

And striding to the door he opened it, and calling the Norman bade him
move the table and bring candles--a dozen candles; for in the narrow
streets the light was waning, and in the half-shuttered room it was
growing dusk. Tignonville, listening with a throbbing brain, wondered
that the attendant expressed no surprise and said no word--until Tavannes
added to his orders one for a pair of swords.

Then, "Monsieur's sword is here," Bigot answered in his half-intelligible
patois. "He left it here yester morning."

"You are a good fellow, Bigot," Tavannes answered, with a gaiety and good-
humour which astonished Tignonville. "And one of these days you shall
marry Suzanne."

The Norman smiled sourly and went in search of the weapon.

"You have a poniard?" Count Hannibal continued in the same tone of
unusual good temper, which had already struck Tignonville. "Excellent!
Will you strip, then, or--as we are? Very good, Monsieur; in the
unlikely event of fortune declaring for you, you will be in a better
condition to take care of yourself. A man running through the streets in
his shirt is exposed to inconveniences!" And he laughed gaily.

While he laughed the other listened; and his rage began to give place to
wonder. A man who regarded as a pastime a sword and dagger conflict
between four walls, who, having his adversary in his power, was ready to
discard the advantage, to descend into the lists, and to risk life for a
whim, a fancy--such a man was outside his experience, though in Poitou in
those days of war were men reckoned brave. For what, he asked himself as
he waited, had Tavannes to gain by fighting? The possession of
Mademoiselle? But Mademoiselle, if his passion for her overwhelmed him,
was in his power; and if his promise were a barrier--which seemed
inconceivable in the light of his reputation-