"As you will, monsieur," said I. "I am glad not to be killed, for what is the use of having fought Bussy d'Amboise if one may not live to boast of it?"
He seemed pleased in his self-esteem, and sheathed his sword. "I am destined not to fight to-night," he answered. "One adversary turns out to have a damaged arm, which would make it a disgrace to kill him, and the other puts me under obligation for my life. But, M. de Quelus, your arm will recover."
"I hope so, if for only one reason," replied Quelus.
Bussy d'Amboise then bowed to me, and strode on his way. He was joined at the next crossing of streets by four lackeys, who had been waiting in shadow. All had swords and pistols, and one bore a lantern, which had been concealed beneath his cloak.
De Quelus, having looked after him with an angry frown, now turned to me, and spoke with affability:
"Monsieur, had you not observed the condition of my arm, I should have resented your aid. But as it is, I owe you my life no less than he owes you his, and it may be that I can do more than merely acknowledge the obligation."
I saw here the opportunity for which a man might wait months, and I was not such a fool as to lose it through pride.
"Monsieur," I said, "I am Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tournoire. I arrived in Paris to-day, from Anjou, with the desire of enlisting in the French Guards."
De Quelus smiled. "You desire very little for a gentleman, and one who can handle a sword so well."
"I know that, but I do not bring any letters, and I am not one who could expect the favor of a court appointment. I am a Huguenot."