hen--

"You own yourself vanquished?" he cried.

The young man, blinded by the blood which trickled down his face, made a
sign with his hands. Count Hannibal rose to his feet again, and stood a
moment looking at his foe without speaking. Presently he seemed to be
satisfied. He nodded, and going to the table dipped a napkin in water.
He brought it, and carefully supporting Tignonville's head, laved his
brow.

"It is as I thought," he said, when he had stanched the blood. "You are
not hurt, man. You are stunned. It is no more than a bruise."

The young man was coming to himself. "But I thought--" he muttered, and
broke off to pass his hand over his face. Then he got up slowly, reeling
a little, "I thought it was the point," he muttered.

"No, it was the pommel," Tavannes answered dryly. "It would not have
served me to kill you. I could have done that ten times."

Tignonville groaned, and, sitting down at the table, held the napkin to
his aching head. One of the candles had been overturned in the struggle
and lay on the floor, flaring in a little pool of grease. Tavannes set
his heel upon it; then, striding to the farther end of the room, he
picked up Tignonville's dagger and placed it beside his sword on the
table. He looked about to see if aught else remained to do, and, finding
nothing, he returned to Tignonville's side.

"Now, Monsieur," he said in a voice hard and constrained, "I must ask you
to perform your part of the bargain."

A groan of anguish broke from the unhappy man. And yet he had set his
life on the cast; what more could he have done?

"You will not harm him?" he muttered.

"He shall go safe," Count Hannibal replied gravely.

"And--" he fought a moment with his pride, then blurted out the words,
"you will not tell her--that it was through me--you found him?"

"I will not," Tavannes answered in the same tone. He stooped and picked
up the other's robe and cowl, which had fallen from a chair--so that as
he spoke his eyes were averted. "She shall never know through me," he
said.

And Tignonville, his face hidden in his hands, told him.

CHAPTER XVIII. ANDROMEDA, PERSEUS BEING ABSENT.

Little by little--while they fought below--the gloom had thickened, and
night had fallen in the room above. But Mademoiselle would not have
candles brought. Seated in the darkness, on the uppermost step of the
stairs, her hands clasped about her knees, she listened and listened, as
if