"I know nothing about his tricks, but I shall kill him at an early date."
Madame's shrug said plainly that it mattered nothing to her. "Once more, will you stand aside, or must I call?"
"Call, Madame!" His violence got the better of him, and he seized her wrist. "Call to the fellow who calls himself the Chevalier; call!"
"Do I hear some one calling my name?" said a voice not far away.
D'Hérouville looked over madame's shoulder, while madame turned with relief. She quickly released her wrist and sped some distance up the path, passing the Chevalier, who did not stop till he stood face to face with D'Hérouville.
"You were about to remark?" began the Chevalier, a frank and honest hatred in his eyes.
The count eyed him contemptuously. "Stand out of the way, you …"
"Do not speak that word aloud, Monsieur," interrupted the Chevalier, gloomily, "or I will force it down your throat, though we both tumble over the cliff."
D'Hérouville knew the Périgny blood well enough to believe that the Chevalier was in earnest. "It would be your one opportunity," he said; "for you do not suppose I shall do you the honor to cross swords with you."
"Most certainly I do. You laughed that night, and no man shall laugh at me and boast of it."