The glaring of his deadly eye upon me showed me now whenever he meditated a thrust that he fancied certain; and I could perceive, as he saw the blood from my shoulder trickle over the buff coat I had worn under my corslet, a smile of triumph and of sanguinary hope curl his lip, as his faith in the astrologer's prophecy gave way.
A wound in his neck soon turned his smile into an expression of mortal wrath, and making a double feint, which he thought certain, he lunged full at my heart. I was prepared--parried it instantly--lunged before he could recover, and the hilt of my sword knocked against his ribs, while the point shone out under his left shoulder. He felt that he was slain; but, grappling me tight with the last deathly clasp of expiring revenge, he drew his poignard, and, attempting to drive it into my heart, wounded me again in the arm. With difficulty I wrenched it from him, and cast him back upon the ground, where, after rolling for a moment in convulsive agony, and actually biting the earth with his teeth, he expired with a hollow groan and a struggle to start upon his feet.
So keen, so eager, so hazardous had been the strife, that though I became conscious some spectators had been added to the scene of combat, I had not dared to withdraw my eye for an instant to ascertain who they were. When it was ended, however, a voice cried out, "Nobly done! bravely fought! Pardie, one does not see two such champions every day!" and turning round, I found myself in presence of an old officer, accompanied by another little man on horseback, together with about twenty musketeers on foot.
"And now, pray tell us, sir," demanded the officer, "who you are, and whether you are for the king or the Princes?"
"I can save him that trouble," interrupted the little man who accompanied him, riding a step forward, and exposing to my sight the funnel-shaped boots, the brown pourpoint, and the keen, inquisitive little countenance of my old persecutor, Jean le Hableur. "This, Monsieur le Chevalier," he continued, "is Monsieur le Comte de l'Orme, the dear friend and ally of his highness the Count de Soissons, and one of the chiefs of the rebels; and let me tell you that you had better put irons on both his hands and his feet, for a more daring or more cunning plotter never tied an honest man to a tree in a wood."
"I shall certainly use no such measures against so brave a soldier as this young gentleman seems to be," replied the officer. "Nevertheless, you must surrender yourself a prisoner, sir," he added, "without you can show that this old man speaks falsely."
"He speaks truth," replied I. "Do with me what you like--I am very careless of the event."
"From your despairing tone, young sir," observed the officer, "I conclude that your party has lost a battle, and that Chatillon has gained one."
"So far from it," replied I, "that never did any one suffer a more complete defeat than the Maréchal de Chatillon this day. His cannon, his baggage, and his treasure, are all in the hands of the Duke of Bouillon; and he has not now one man upon the field of battle but the dead, the wounded, and the prisoners."
"God of heaven!" cried the old officer, deeply affected by the news. "Sir, you are surely too brave a man to tell me a falsehood?"