"No, no," replied the old soldier, "not so, my dear; you must wait till all the world's asleep, but your uncle. He watches all night in the chapel. You too have need of rest and refreshment; and an hour before midnight we will set out."
Helen took some food, and then lay down in the cottage, where a chamber had been prepared for her; but sleep visited not her eyelids; and her own thoughts were more wearisome than any corporeal exertion could have been.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
We left Louis de Montigni on horseback, in a field near Chartres, ready to exchange the deadly shot with one well practised in the use of every weapon; and though we have given some indications of his fate, we must, nevertheless now return to tell how that morning passed. The Duke of Nemours was, as the reader is well aware, one of the most distinguished members of the League, an enemy of the King, and armed against the life of the young nobleman, who now faced him. The customs of the day, too, rendered the death of an opponent in such a combat, honourable rather than discreditable to the survivor. But, notwithstanding all this, De Montigni had, from the first, felt great reluctance, even to attempt to take the life of his antagonist, and in the terms of duel which he had fixed, he had limited the number of shots, not with any view to his own personal safety; for he was one of those who do not easily apply the thought of danger to their own heart; but in order not to be compelled to injure the Duke.
As soon as Nemours saw that he had placed himself, and had wheeled his horse, he raised his hat and bowed, and then replacing it on his head, took the large pistol with which he was armed, in his right hand, his reins in the left, and striking his spurs into the horse's flank, galloped forward to meet his adversary. He had no hesitation on his part, he had no remorse; but De Montigni was equally calm and cool, for his mind was also made up as to what he should do; and keeping a wary eye upon the Duke, he likewise rode on, though at a slower pace. Nearer and more near they came to each other, with the muzzles of their pistols raised, till--at the distance of about twenty paces--Nemours levelled his weapon straight at his opponent's head. The next moment De Montigni followed his example, but reserved his fire.
The Duke, in truth, did not intend to discharge his pistol at so great a distance; but just at that spot, there was a narrow cut in the field, made for the purposes of irrigation; and, seeing that he must leap it, and thereby shake his hand, Nemours pulled the trigger at once. At that very moment, however, the horse, seeing the little ditch, was rising to the leap, and the Duke's aim was consequently unsteady.
It was more just than might have been expected, indeed, for the ball grazed De Montigni's cheek, and passed through his hat, which was somewhat cast back from his brow. His face was covered with blood in an instant, and he felt himself wounded; but the injury was too slight to move him in any degree, and, without checking his speed, he rode on upon the Duke with his pistol, levelled, producing it must be acknowledged, no very pleasant sensations in his antagonist's bosom. When, within three yards, he slightly turned his hand to the right, and fired.
The ball flew at a considerable distance from Nemours; and the two horses, carried on by their speed, passed each other before they could be reined up. As they went by, however, the Duke exclaimed, "Ah! that is not fair, Monsieur de Montigni."
The young nobleman pulled in the bridle as soon as possible, and returned, inquiring, "What is not fair, my lord?"
"Come, come," said Nemours, as they met, "own you did not fire at me."