Lagardere answered him, ironically: "Gifted gentleman! But I want a talk first."
He had scarcely finished when a flash like lightning stabbed the darkness and came very near to stabbing him. It was the sword of Nevers, who was thrusting wildly before him into the gloom, while he cried: "Not a word! You have insulted a woman!"
Lagardere beat a rapid retreat for a few paces, and called to him: "I apologize humbly, abjectly. I kneel for forgiveness."
Nevers’s only answer was to follow up and thrust rapidly at Lagardere’s retreating figure, while he cried, fiercely: "Too late."
There was nothing for Lagardere to do but to defend himself in order to gain time with this passionate madman. Therefore, Lagardere drew his sword and parried the attack which Nevers was now making at close quarters. It was so dark in the moat that the two antagonists could scarcely see each other, and even the brightness of the blades was with difficulty distinguished. In a voice that was at once anxious and mocking, Lagardere cried to the duke: "Unnatural parent, do you wish to kill your child?"
The last word stopped Nevers like a blow. He lowered his sword and spoke wonderingly: "My child! What do you mean?"
Lagardere answered him, gravely: "At this moment Mademoiselle de Nevers is nestled in my arms."
Nevers echoed him, astonished: "My daughter, in your arms?"
Lagardere came quite close to the duke and showed him the bundle cradled in his elbow. "See for yourself; but step gently, for the young lady’s sleep must be respected."
Nevers gave a gasp of surprise. "What has happened?"