"You prefer a sword thrust, then?"
"I venture to believe that you came here to find me, monsieur le marquis, with the intention of making use of your sword."
"You are not in error."
"Let us talk no longer, then!"
"Holà! Joseph! attend us with the light!"
The valet drew near with his lantern and leaned against a pillar. The two gentlemen had already tossed aside their cloaks; they speedily unsheathed their swords, and, taking their places within two yards of the light, began to attack each other with great impetuosity. Léodgard was stirred to frenzy by his anger at having been made a plaything by Valentine; in the case of the marquis, the desire to be revenged upon a man who had attempted to dishonor him was sufficient to strengthen his arm and inflame his blood.
The marquis, however, was more self-controlled; he fought more prudently than his adversary. Léodgard, enraged to find himself opposed by a man whose skill equalled his own, hurried his blows as if he were in haste to conclude; and as he lunged to deal a terrible thrust at the marquis, the latter's sword entered his breast and passed through his body.
Léodgard fell to the ground without a cry. The valet held his lantern so that he could see the wound, from which the blood poured forth in a stream, and said to his master, who tranquilly wiped his sword and resumed his cloak:
"Oh! monsieur, I do not think that the gentleman will recover. Such a wound! and fair in the breast! That was a mighty thrust he received!—What shall we do with the gentleman?"
"Blockhead! to suppose that I intend to pay any heed to the fellow!—We have nothing more to do here. Go before and light me!"