"Have a care, sir," I cried in alarm as he rushed forward. "Have a care,
sir, lest you trip over your sword."

He halted, drew himself up, and, with a magnificent gesture: "I am
Armand de Malpertuis, lieutenant of his Majesty's guards," he announced,
"and I shall be grateful if you will do me the honour of taking a turn
with me, outside."

"I am flattered beyond measure, M. Malappris--"

"Mal-per-tuis," he corrected furiously.

"Malpertuis," I echoed. "I am honoured beyond words, but I do not wish
to take a turn."

"Mille diables, sir! Don't you understand? We must fight."

"Must we, indeed? Again I am honoured; but, Monsieur, I don't fight
sparrows."

"Gentlemen! Gentlemen!" cried St. Auban, thrusting himself between us.
"Malpertuis, have the goodness to wait until one affair is concluded
before you create a second one. Now, M. de Luynes, will you tell me
whether M. de Mancini is here or not?"

"What if he should be?"

"You will be wise to withdraw--we shall be three to two."

"Three to two! Surely, Marquis, your reckoning is at fault. You cannot
count the Vicomte there as one; his knees are knocking together; at best
he is but a woman in man's clothes. As for your other friend, unless his
height misleads me, he is but a boy. Therefore, Monsieur, you see that
the advantage is with us. We are two men opposed to a man, a woman, and
a child, so that--"

"In Heaven's name, sir," cried St. Auban, again interposing himself
betwixt me and the bellicose Malpertuis, "will you cease this
foolishness? A word with you in private, M. de Luynes."

I permitted him to take me by the sleeve, and lead me aside, wondering
the while what curb it was that he was setting upon his temper, and what
wily motives he might have for adopting so conciliatory a tone.

With many generations to come, the name of Cesar de St. Auban must
perforce be familiar as that of one of the greatest roysterers and most
courtly libertines of the early days of Louis XIV., as well as that of a
rabid anti-cardinalist and frondeur, and one of the earliest of that new
cabal of nobility known as the petits-maitres, whose leader the Prince
de Conde was destined to become a few years later. He was a man of about
my own age, that is to say, between thirty-two and thirty-three, and
of my own frame, tall, spare, and active. On his florid, debonnair
countenance was stamped his character of bon-viveur. In dress he
was courtly in the extreme. His doublet and