We will now follow the two young men sent by the king. Scarcely on horseback, Ernanton and St. Maline, determined that one should not get before the other, nearly crushed each other in the gateway. The face of St. Maline became purple, and that of Ernanton pale.
"You hurt me, monsieur," cried the former; "do you wish to crush me?"
"You also hurt me, only I did not complain."
"You wish to give me a lesson, I believe?"
"I wish to give you nothing."
"Ah!" cried St. Maline, "pray repeat that."
"You are seeking a quarrel, are you not?" replied Ernanton, quietly; "so much the worse for you."
"And why should I wish to quarrel? I do not know you," replied St. Maline, disdainfully.
"You know me perfectly, monsieur, because at home my house is but two leagues from yours, and I am well known there, being of an old family; but you are furious at seeing me in Paris, when you thought that you alone were sent for; also, because the king gave me the letter to carry."
"Well," said St. Maline, "it may be true, but there is one result."