s glaring, thrust,
parried, advanced, and fell back in the fierce ardor of the combat. At
last, De Grandville, seeing an opportunity, sent his adversary's blade
whirling through the air, and drawing back his weapon, prepared to
thrust it through his breast.

"Strike!" said St. Prix; "you have vanquished me in love and in arms,
and there is nothing left me but to die."

"Die, then, but on the field of battle, brave Raoul," said de
Grandville, "and since I have deprived you of your sword, take mine; I
shall be honored by the exchange."

"Hold!" said a stern voice; and turning, Henri beheld with confusion
the countenance of Marshal Saxe, who, attended by a file of
musketeers, had entered the tent at the close of the duel. "You will
give up your sword to this officer, Captain de Grandville," added he,
pointing to a commissioned officer by whom he was accompanied. "Count
de St. Prix, you will pick up your weapon, also, and surrender it.
Officers who forget themselves so far as to seek each other's lives
upon the eve of battle, with the enemy before them, are unworthy of
command. This is matter for the provost marshal."

And the old soldier seated himself at the table, and eyed the
offenders angrily and sternly.

"May it please your excellency," said St. Prix, "I alone deserve to
suffer. I insulted the gentleman, and forced him to fight."

"Forced him to fight?" said the marshal. "Hadn't he read the orders of
the day?"

"I do not claim your clemency, marshal," said Henri. "I committed this
fault with my eyes open. But a man cannot always command his
passions."

"That's true, my lad. But what were you fighting about?"

"A woman, your excellency," said St. Prix.

"A woman! fools! a woman that's not to be had without fighting for
isn't worth having. Well, well--boys will be boys. I pardon you on two
conditions. In the first place, you must shake hands." Henri and Raoul
advanced and joined their hands. "And in the next place, that you give
a good account of yourselves to-morrow. _Sacre nom de Dieu_! I can ill
spare two lads of spirit from the guards. And now," said the marshal,
rising, after restoring their swords to the officers, "good night,
gentlemen; and plenty of hard knocks to-morrow."

The next day witnessed one of those terrible encounters, whose
sanguinary prints make a more indelible impression on the page of
history than the records of the more generous deeds of peaceful life.
The greatest gallantry was