"I might refuse this combat, Monsieur," said Lord Wentworth, rather gloomily; "for the chances between us would not be equal. If I should kill you, she would hate me all the more bitterly; whereas if you should kill me, the result would be to make her love you the more dearly. But no matter, I must and do accept. But are you not afraid," he added sombrely, "of driving me to extremities? When almost all the advantage is with you, might I not be justified in making an unfair use of those which I can still call my own?"
"God on high and the nobility of every country on earth would be your judges, my Lord," said Gabriel, shuddering, "if you should be such a coward as to wreak your vengeance upon those whom you are unable to vanquish, by oppressing those who are unable to defend themselves."
After a pause, Lord Wentworth said,—
"It is three o'clock, Monsieur, and you have until seven—the hour when the inner gates are closed—to make your preparations and leave the town. I will meanwhile give my orders that you be allowed to pass free."
"At seven o'clock, my Lord, I shall have left Calais."
"And be sure," resumed Wentworth, "that you shall never re-enter it again alive, and that even if you should succeed in slaying me in single combat without the walls, my precautions will be taken, and well taken (you may trust my jealousy for that), so that you shall never possess—nay, you shall never even see Madame de Castro again."
Gabriel had already taken some steps on his way from the room; he stopped at the door on hearing these last words.
"What you say is quite impossible, my Lord," he rejoined; "for it is very necessary that I should see Diane again, sooner or later."
"However, it shall not be, Monsieur, I swear to you, if the will of the governor of a city or the last words of a dying man are to be respected."
"It shall be, my Lord,—I know not how, but I am sure of it."