"I have a horrible fear that he will break his neck," said the companion of M. de Richelieu in a whisper.
"With such a pretty face, so frolicsome and so captivating, one need fear neither horses, nor men, nor women, and if he should fall . . . one never falls alone . . . I have faith in him . . . he has a very enticing air." . . .
"Hullo! St. Clair," said the other, addressing the groom, "don't stubbornly persevere any longer; get down from the horse. . . . This young gentleman desires a lesson, and you can give it to him," he added, laughing.
St. Clair obeyed the order, and got off the horse.
Létorière, a little displeased at the last words of the unknown, replied to him with respectful firmness:
"I will always receive with pleasure or with resignation any lesson which I ask for, or which I deserve, sir; but here I do not find myself in either one of these cases."
The unknown and M. de Richelieu looked at each other, suppressing a great desire to laugh.
"You must take care," said the Marshal softly, "he looks like a famous fighter!"
"You'll see that he will challenge me—and before you, the senior of the Marshals of France, the President of the tribunal of honor"—said the other;—and he added, regarding the Marquis with a very serious air:
"You take it with a high hand, my young master!"