you have forgotten me, that you should give me the
go-by thus, when it is so long a time since we have met, and we such
dear friends, too,"

But the young man was in earnest, and very angry, and struggled to
release himself from St. Renan's grasp, until, having no strong
reasons for forbearance, but many for the reverse, Raoul, too, lost
his temper.

"By heaven!" he exclaimed, "I believe that you do _not_ know me, or
you would not dare to suppose that I would suffer you to follow a lady
who seeks not your presence or society."

"Let me go, St. Renan!" returned the other fiercely, laying his hand
on his dagger's hilt. "Let me go, villain, or you shall rue it!"

"Villain!" Raoul repeated, calmly, "villain! It is so you call me,
hey?" and he did instantly release him, drawing his sword as he did
so. "Draw, De Pontrien--that word has cost you your life!"

"Yes, villain!" repeated the other, "villain to you teeth! But you
lie! it is your life that is forfeit--forfeit to my brother's honor!"

"Ha! ha!" laughed Raoul, savagely. "Ha-ha-ha-ha! your brother's honor!
who the devil ever heard before of a pandar's honor--even if he were
Sir Pandarus to a king? Sa! sa!--have at you!"

Their blades crossed instantly, and they fought fiercely, and with
something like equality for some ten minutes. The Chevalier de
Pontrien was far more than an ordinary swordsman, and he was in
earnest, not angry, but savage and determined, and full of bitter
hatred, and a fixed resolution to punish the familiarity of Raoul with
his brother's wife. But that was a thing easier proposed than
executed; for St. Renan, who had left France as a boy already a
perfect master of fence, had learned the practice of the blade against
the swordsmen of the East, the finest swordsmen of the world, and had
added to skill, science and experience, the iron nerves, the deep
breath, and the unwearied strength of a veteran.

If he fought slowly, it was that he fought carefully--that he meant
the first wound to be the last. He was resolved that De Pontrien never
should return home again to divulge what he had seen, and he had the
coolness, the skill, and the power to carry out his resolution.

At the end of ten minutes he attacked. Six times within as many
seconds he might have inflicted a severe, perhaps a deadly wound on
his antagonist; and he, too, perceived it, but it would not have been
surely mortal.

"Come, come!" cried De Pontrien, at last, growing impati