s
in her voice. And of such poor mettle are we that her resentment against
that groaning mass of fopperies and wheals sent a thrill of pleasure
through me. I walked over to the spot where his sword had fallen, and
picked it up.

"Monsieur de Saint-Eustache," said I, "you have so dishonoured this
blade that I do not think you would care to wear it again." Saying
which, I snapped it across my knee, and flung it far out into the river,
for all that the hilt was a costly one, richly wrought in bronze and
gold.

He raised his livid countenance, and his eyes blazed impotent fury.

"Par la mort Dieu!" he cried hoarsely, "you shall give me satisfaction
for this!"

"If you account yourself still unsatisfied, I am at your service when
you will," said I courteously.

Then, before more could be said, I saw Monsieur de Lavedan and the
Vicomtesse approaching hurriedly across the parterre. The Vicomte's
brow was black with what might have appeared anger, but which I rightly
construed into apprehension.

"What has taken place? What have you done?" he asked of me.

"He has brutally assaulted the Chevalier," cried Madame shrilly,
her eyes malevolently set upon me. "He is only a child, this poor
Saint-Eustache," she reproached me. "I saw it all from my window,
Monsieur de Lesperon. It was brutal; it was cowardly. So to beat a boy!
Shame! If you had a quarrel with him, are there not prescribed methods
for their adjustment between gentlemen? Pardieu, could you not have
given him proper satisfaction?"

"If madame will give herself the trouble of attentively examining
this poor Saint-Eustache," said I, with a sarcasm which her virulence
prompted, "you will agree, I think, that I have given him very proper
and very thorough satisfaction. I would have met him sword in hand, but
the Chevalier has the fault of the very young--he is precipitate; he was
in too great a haste, and he could not wait until I got a sword. So I
was forced to do what I could with a cane."

"But you provoked him," she flashed back.

"Whoever told you so has misinformed you, madame. On the contrary, he
provoked me. He gave me the lie. I struck him--could I do less?--and he
drew. I defended myself, and I supplemented my defence by a caning, so
that this poor Saint-Eustache might realize the unworthiness of what he
had done. That is all, madame."

But she was not so easily to be appeased, not even when Mademoiselle and
the Vicomte joined their voices to mine in