"Stay! monsieur; one does not kill a fallen enemy."
"Young man," replied Chicot, "you have saved my life, and I thank you with all my heart; but accept a little lesson very useful in the time of moral degradation in which we live. When a man has been attacked three times in three days—when he has been each time in danger of death—when his enemies have, without provocation, fired four musket balls at him from behind—as they might have done to a mad dog—then, young man, he may do what I am about to do." And Chicot returned to his work.
But the young man stopped him again.
"You shall not do it, while I am here. You shall not shed more of that blood which is now issuing from the wound you hare already inflicted."
"Bah! do you know this wretch?"
"That wretch is M. le Duc de Mayenne, a prince equal in rank to many kings."
"All the more reason. And who are you?"
"He who has saved your life, monsieur."
"And who, if I do not deceive myself, brought me a letter from the king three days ago."
"Precisely."