“I told him he would be free to depart on condition he would give me his word not to return to Montaignac before two o’clock.
“‘Then I accept the challenge,’ said he; ‘give me a weapon.’
“I gave him my sword, your brother drew his, and they took their places in the middle of the highway.”
The young farmer paused to take breath, then said, more slowly:
“Marie-Anne, your father and I have misjudged your brother. Poor Jean’s appearance is terribly against him. His face indicates a treacherous, cowardly nature, his smile is cunning, and his eyes always shun yours. We have distrusted him, but we should ask his pardon. A man who fights as I saw him fight, is deserving of confidence. For this combat in the public road, and in the darkness of the night, was terrible. They attacked each other silently but furiously. At last Jean fell.”
“Ah! my brother is dead!” exclaimed Marie-Anne.
“No,” responded Chanlouineau; “at least we have reason to hope not; and I know he has not lacked any attention. This duel had another witness, a man named Poignot, whom you must remember; he was one of your father’s tenants. He took Jean, promising me that he would conceal him and care for him.
“As for the marquis, he showed me that he too was wounded, and then he remounted his horse, saying:
“‘What could I do? He would have it so.’”
Marie-Anne understood now.