"Perfectly true; but I feel capable of anything to defend my master."
"There we have it; your cowardice need only come on you suddenly, and, in your alarm, you will be ready to kill everybody. No, no, none of that; I do not wish to get into trouble through you."
And dismounting, he walked in the direction of the barricades. On arriving a short distance from them, he took out a white handkerchief, and waved it in the air. Black, still ready to fire, carefully watched the Count's every movement, and when he saw his amicable demonstration, he rose, and made him a signal to come on. The young man quietly returned his handkerchief to his pocket, lit a cigar, stuck his glass in his eye, and after drawing on his gloves, walked resolutely on. On reaching the intrenchments, he found himself in front of Black, who was waiting for him, leaning on his rifle.
"What do you want of me?" the American said, roughly. "Make haste! I have no time to lose in conversation."
The Count surveyed him haughtily, assumed the most insolent posture he could select, and puffing a cloud of smoke into his face, said dryly—
"You are not polite, my dear fellow."
"Halloa!" the other said. "Have you come here to insult me?"
"I have come to do you a service; and if you continue in that tone, I am afraid I shall be obliged not to do it."
"We'll see to that—do me a service! And what may it be?" the American asked with a grin.
"You are a low fellow," the Count remarked, "with whom it is offensive to talk. I prefer to withdraw."