uis has business at Chambord
this evening, after which there will be no reason--indeed, it will
inconvenience him exceedingly--to return to Blois."

"What!" I cried, more and more astonished. "St. Auban is leaving Blois?"

"This evening, sir."

"But, voyons, Vicomte, why make an assignation in such a place and at
night, when at any hour of the day I can meet the Marquis on this side,
without suffering the inconvenience of crossing the river?"

"There will be a bright moon, well up by nine o'clock. Moreover,
remember that you cannot, as you say, meet St. Auban on this side at any
time he may appoint, since to-night or to-morrow the officer who is in
search of you will arrive."

I pondered for a moment. Then:

"M. le Vicomte," I said, "in this matter of ground 't is I who have the
first voice."

"How so?"

"Because the Marquis is the affronted one."

"Therefore he has a right to choose."

"A right, yes. But that is not enough. The necessity to fight is on his
side. His honour is hurt, not mine; I have whipped him; I am content.
Now let him come to me."

"Assuredly you will not be so ungenerous."

"I do not care about journeying to Reaux to afford him satisfaction."

"Does Monsieur fear anything?"

"Vicomte, you go too far!" I cried, my pride gaining the mastery. "Since
it is asked of me,--I will go."

"M. le Marquis will be grateful to you."

"A fig for his gratitude," I answered, whereupon the Vicomte shrugged
his narrow shoulders, and, his errand done, took his leave of me.

When he was gone I called Michelot, to tell him of the journey I must go
that night, so that he might hold himself in readiness.

"Why--if Monsieur will pardon me," quoth he, "do you go to meet the
Marquis de St. Auban at St. Sulpice des Reaux by night?"

"Precisely what I asked Vilmorin. The Marquis desires it, and--what will
you?--since I am going to kill the man, I can scarce do less than kill
him on a spot of his own choosing."

Michelot screwed up his face and scratched at his grey beard with his
huge hand.

"Does no suspicion of foul play cross your mind, Monsieur?" he inquired
timidly.

"Shame on you, Michelot," I returned with some heat. "You do not yet
understand the ways of gentlemen. Think you that M. de St. Auban would
stoop to such a deed as that? He would be shamed for ever! Pooh, I would
as soon suspect my Lord Cardinal of stealing the chalices from Notre
Dame. Go, see to my horse. I am riding to Canaples.