an, he proved himself so utterly bereft of wit by
terror that for once he had the temerity to usurp the words and actions
of a brave man.

"You have murdered him!" he cried in a strident voice, and thrusting his
clenched fist within an inch of my face. "Do you hear me, you knave? You
have murdered him!"

Now, as may be well conceived, I was in no mood to endure such words
from any man, so was but natural that for answer I caught the dainty
Vicomte a buffet that knocked him into the arms of the nearest
bystander, and brought him to his senses.

"Fool," I snarled at him, "must I make another example before you
believe that Gaston de Luynes wears a sword?"

"In the name of Heaven--" he began, putting forth his hands in a
beseeching gesture; but what more he said was drowned by the roar of
anger that burst from the onlookers, and it was like to have gone ill
with me had not St. Auban come to my aid at that most critical juncture.

"Messieurs!" he cried, thrusting himself before me, and raising his hand
to crave silence, "hear me. I, a friend of M. de Canaples, tell you that
you wrong M. de Luynes. 'T was a fair fight--how the quarrel arose is no
concern of yours."

Despite his words they still snarled and growled like the misbegotten
curs they were. But St. Auban was famous for the regal supper parties he
gave, to which all were eager to be bidden, and amidst that crowd, as I
have said, there were a score or so of gentlemen of the Court, who--with
scant regard for the right or wrong of the case and every regard to
conciliate this giver of suppers--came to range themselves beside and
around us, and thus protected me from the murderous designs of that
rabble.

Seeing how the gentlemen took my part, and deeming--in their blessed
ignorance--that what gentlemen did must be perforce well done, they grew
calm in the twinkling of an eye. Thereupon St. Auban, turning to me,
counselled me in a whisper to be gone, whilst the tide of opinion flowed
in my favour. Intent to act upon this good advice, I took a step towards
the little knot that had collected round Canaples, and with natural
curiosity inquired into the nature of his hurt.

'T was Montmedy who answered me, scowling as he did so:

"He may die of it, Monsieur. If he does not, his recovery will be at
least slow and difficult."

I had been wise had I held my peace and gone; but, like a fool, I must
needs give utterance to what was in my mind.

"Ah! At least there w