"My father will have no son-in-law but this Michel."
"Peste! So I must be deceived and sent into the fires of the nether regions!"
"My Henri, be calm and listen. My father sent me to you with a suggestion; you are to fight for me with this Michel——" Henri interrupted with a roar of laughter.
"Oh, oh! poor Michel! he is doomed! I shall fight like a fiend from hell, if it is for you, ma mie; moreover, he is—you say—on our side! What a foolish fight will this be!"
"Michel is a good fencer, he has few equals. What if he should slay you, my beloved, for—if I remember rightly—you have not more than a passable hand with the rapier."
"Bah! in such a cause I would overthrow even Louise herself," Henri laughed; "but will Michel fight?"
"It—it shall be arranged; he shall slip and you shall disarm him—neither shall be hurt." Louise blushed and became agitated. "Go down, chérie, to the salon d'armes, you know it of old, and there Michel shall meet you. Adieu, until—until Michel is overthrown."
Henri laughed and embraced the girl. "Adieu, then," he said, "until then—bid Michel be quick!"
The salon d'armes was empty when Henri entered it. He busied himself in examining and testing the rapiers upon the walls. A sound presently attracted his attention and he looked round.
Louise stood in the arena, rapier in hand; she wore her fencing dress; her face was crimson with blushes; she seemed too agitated to speak.