“Exactly; it was a lance thrust.”
“Do the Turks fight with lances?”
“Always—unless they use some other weapon.”
“Give me your arm, baron,” said Thélénie, “and let us go for a walk while monsieur reflects concerning the age of trees.”
“I am at your service, belle dame.”
“What is there new?” inquired Thélénie, when she and Croque had left the room. “Your appearance is quite agitated.”
“Sacredié! there’s reason enough! I had a scare last night, and I’m all of a tremble still.”
“What was the cause of this scare?”
“About ten o’clock I walked in the direction of our ladies’ house. I wanted to examine the locality, take a look at the walls, in short, find out where there was a good chance to get inside; because, of course, I don’t expect to fascinate the girl—I’m not good-looking enough, I do myself justice; if I want to arrive at my end, I’ve got to do it by surprise—by force.”
“Well—what then? what then?”