But when she saw all those gleaming blades directed against her companion, and often, by inadvertence, threatening her own person, pretty Miretta uttered piercing shrieks; she called imploringly for help. To her cries, uttered as they were in a plaintive, grief-stricken tone, the young men replied by a storm of jests and lamentations; they tried to reassure the girl, to make her understand that they would do her no harm; but she, too terrified to hear what they said, continued her outcries.
Thereupon Master Hugonnet, who thus far had continued to shave Monsieur de Monclair, abandoned his customer and ran into the street to find out what was happening. At the same time, Ambroisine left the baths to ascertain the cause of the uproar and the shrieks that she heard.
As the father and the daughter reached the street, two other persons arrived on the scene, one by Rue des Mathurins, the other from Saint-Benoît cemetery; and, having quickened their pace in order to arrive sooner, they made their appearance at almost the same moment—forcing their way through the crowd without ceremony, and distributing blows to right and left among those who did not move aside quickly enough to make way for them.
VIII
A BATTLE
"Ah! here's our friend Passedix, whom we were so anxious about!" cried several of the reckless youths, when they spied the long, lank, yellow-faced chevalier, who always wore a helmet, which heightened his resemblance to Don Quixote, although his helmet was not of the shape of that worn by the Knight of the Rueful Countenance.
"Ah! here is the Sire de Jarnonville!" exclaimed others of the young men, at sight of the second of the two new-comers, who, by rough handling of the crowd, had arrived in front of the barber's shop.
He was a tall, handsome man, dressed in a rich but very sombre costume; his black doublet, slashed with white satin, had the appearance of a mourning garment; a black velvet cloak, faced with white, covered his shoulders; his full, funnel-shaped top-boots also were black, although most gentlemen wore yellow ones except when they went to war. His broad-brimmed hat, turned up in front, had no other ornament than a long plume of the same color as the cloak. So that the Sire de Jarnonville was sometimes given the sobriquet of the Black Chevalier.
He was thirty-eight years of age, but seemed much older, because his brown hair was beginning to turn gray; because his noble and regular features were almost always clouded, as if under the burden of painful thoughts; because his eyes also had ordinarily an expression of profound sadness; and lastly, because his brow was furrowed with premature wrinkles, and the clouds which darkened it were rarely dissipated.
And yet this gentleman, whose aspect was so gloomy, and whom one would have taken to be the enemy of all pleasure, had for several years past participated in all the amusements and festivities, and especially in all the brutal tricks which were played on bourgeois, tradesmen, and even attachés of the court. Whenever one of the most dissolute frequenters of the bathing establishments proposed some new escapade—to abduct a woman, to hoodwink a guardian, or to thrash the watch and throw a whole quarter into dismay, he could be certain beforehand that the Sire de Jarnonville would join him; he was one of the first volunteers in all perilous undertakings; he always rushed to the spot where the danger was greatest, fought like four men, and was the last to leave the field.
If anyone had a duel on hand and lacked a second, the Black Chevalier was always ready to render him that service, without even inquiring as to the subject of the dispute or the name of the adversary; but always on condition that he should fight with the opposing seconds.—Did anyone propose to gamble and drink, Jarnonville gambled and drank, and sometimes drank too much. Amid the companions of his revels, at the banquet table, in a midnight affray, in a duel, he almost always retained that melancholy expression which had aged his features before their time; to one who watched him fight and gamble and drink, it seemed that he did all those things without inclination or pleasure, but solely in the hope of diverting his thoughts; and that he could not succeed in doing it. Such was the personage who had forced his way through the crowd and taken his stand beside the Marquis de Sénange, while the Chevalier de Passedix approached Bourriquet's hind quarters and contemplated with admiration the pretty girl who was seated thereon.