He always carried about him a small dark lantern, which had often been of great service to him at night in the mountains. It was soon lighted; then he searched in every corner of the room, which was formerly the arsenal of the château, for a weapon which was still in condition to be used. After hunting on all sides, and angrily throwing aside broken lances and rust-eaten sabres, he seized a sword which was still in reasonably good condition, and was about to depart, when he spied another, hanging on the wall in a recess. He walked to the spot, took it down, examined it and cried:
"Here it is! This is the one I was looking for! It was this sword with which I learned, in this room, to fight like a gentleman, to rid myself loyally of an enemy. Poor Richard, you were so fond of giving me lessons, and so proud of your young pupil’s talent! when you gave me this sword, you repeated to me again and again the Spanish motto: ‘Never draw it without reason; never sheathe it without honor!’"
The vagabond held the sword against his breast, and was about to throw aside the one he had taken first, but he checked himself, saying:
"No, this one will serve me to get rid of Vaillant, so that I may carry off the girl; at all events, the weapon of my youth will not be sullied by that act."
Thereupon, extinguishing his lantern and bestowing the two swords carefully under his enormous coat, the vagabond descended the winding staircase and left the tower and the château by the same road by which he had entered. Then, looking up at the sky, and reckoning how much of the night remained and how long it would take him to return to the cottage, he said in a low tone:
"It is too late to-night; I will do it to-morrow."
The next day, when night had spread its shadow over the country, the vagabond was in the valley; he scrutinized everything, nothing escaped his eye, nothing could mislead his prudence. He was certain that as yet there was no one in the White House, and that Isaure was alone in her cottage. He had anticipated everything, calculated all his chances; he soon stood beside the wall which enclosed the garden of the cottage, and placed on the ground, a few steps from the gate, one of his swords, saying:
"I will take you again when I come out."
Then, with the other in his hand, he easily scaled the low garden wall. He had not taken four steps when he heard Vaillant bark, and the dog rushed fiercely at him; but the vagabond, expecting that attack, had prepared to defend himself; advancing to meet the threatening beast, he buried the sword in his body; despite that wound, the dog leaped upon his foe and bit him savagely in the face and neck; but the loss of blood weakened him, and three more sword thrusts completed his discomfiture; poor Vaillant fell helpless at the vagabond’s feet, whereupon he threw aside the weapon he had used, and hastened upstairs to Isaure’s bedroom.
The girl was seated sadly by her window; the memory of Edouard was her sole comfort; she was not to see him again but she could continue to love him, and she abandoned herself entirely to that sentiment. When our wills and our desires are thwarted, we feel a secret satisfaction in saying to ourselves that we can at all events dispose of our hearts as we please; and women especially take refuge in that source of consolation, because they are much less at liberty to follow their wishes in their acts.