"I find you a----"
"A minister. Yes, that is it. Or tell me where I can find one."
The young man recoiled. "Never!" he said.
"You know where to find one."
"Never! Never!"
"You can lay your hand on one in five minutes, you know."
"I will not."
"Then I shall not fight you!" Count Hannibal answered coolly; and he turned from him, and back again. "You will pardon me if I say, M. de Tignonville, that you are in as many minds about fighting as about dying! I do not think that you would have made your fortune at Court. Moreover, there is a thing which I fancy you have not considered. If we fight you may kill me, in which case the condition will not help me much. Or I--which is more likely--" he added with a harsh smile, "may kill you, and again I am no better placed."
The young man's, pallid features betrayed the conflict in his breast. To do him justice, his hand itched for the sword-hilt--he was brave enough for that; he hated, and only so could he avenge himself. But the penalty if he had the worse! And yet what of it? He was in hell now, in a hell of humiliation, shame, defeat, tormented by this fiend! 'Twas only to risk a lower hell.
At last, "I will do it!" he cried hoarsely. "Give me a sword and look to yourself."