“Ah! ah!” exclaimed Lectoure, “then that is the true meaning of the note which a servant delivered to me at the moment I was about to leave the castle. I had the simplicity to imagine that it was merely an adjournment. It appears that it was a dismissal in due form. ‘Tis well, sir, and now to the peroration.”
“It will be as simple and frank as the explanation, sir. I did not know you—I had no desire to know you; chance threw us in presence of each other, and with opposing interests—hence our collision. Then, as I have before told you, mistrusting fate, I wished in some measure to make sure of a result. But now affairs have become so altered that either my death or yours would be altogether useless, and would merely add bloodshed to the winding up of this drama; and tell me candidly, sir, do you thank it would be worth while to risk our lives to so little purpose?”
“I might, perhaps, agree with you in opinion, sir, had I not performed so long a journey,” replied Lectoure: “Not having the honor to espouse Mademoiselle Marguerite d’Auray, I should desire, at least, to have the honor of crossing swords with you. It shall not be said that I have travelled all the way from Paris into Brittany for nothing. I am at your orders, sir,” continued Lectoure, drawing his sword, and with it saluting his adversary.
“At your good pleasure, sir,” replied Paul, and replying to the salutation in the same manner.
The two young men then advanced towards each other—their swords crossed—at the third parry Lectoure’s sword was twisted from his hand, and flew to a distance of twenty yards.
“Before taking sword in hand,” said Paul, “I had offered an explanation, and now, sir, I trust you will be pleased to accept my apology.”
“And this time I will accept it, sir,” said Lectoure, in the same careless and easy manner, as if nothing particular had occurred. “Pick up my sword, Dick.”
His servant ran to fetch it, handed it to his master, who very tranquilly put it into the scabbard.
“Now,” continued he, “if either of you, gentlemen, have any orders for Paris, I am about to return there, and from this spot.”
“Tell the king, sir,” replied Paul, bowing, and in his turn sheathing his sword, “that I feel happy that the sword he gave me to be employed against the English, has remained unstained by the blood of one of my own countrymen.”