"Tell him," he said, "that Charles de la Pommeraye wishes to see him in his own room if possible."
In a moment the servant returned, and, guiding him through a long and dark hall, brought him to a chamber hung with trophies of the fight. On a couch in the centre, overhung with heavy curtains, lay De Roberval, haggard and worn, having evidently passed a sleepless night.
"Go, Jean," he said, waving his hand to his servant.
When the door was closed La Pommeraye advanced, and bowing, said: "Monsieur must pardon my visit, but I have fished up his sword, and thought it best to bring it to him at once. Ah, I see mine on the floor! It has not often had such treatment; but it was used in a dishonourable quarrel and deserves dishonour."
As he spoke he took it up lovingly and placed it in its sheath.
The tears were in the eyes of De Roberval as he took his loved blade in his left hand, but his voice was hard and cold.
"I thank you, Monsieur," he frigidly replied. "You add one more to the obligations under which you have already placed me."
La Pommeraye saw what an effort it had cost the nobleman to make even this slight admission. It was like swallowing the bitterest hemlock to acknowledge his debt to the man who had vanquished him, and whose generosity had shielded him from disgrace. The young adventurer was shrewd enough to see that if he would win favour with the uncle of Marguerite he must wound his vanity and pride no further. He felt that it would be wise to withdraw, and, after expressing in a few words his regret for the thoughtlessness which had been the cause of the unfortunate affair, he was about to leave the room, when De Roberval called him back.
"Stay," he said, "I have fought many battles, but last night I fought with the most honourable, if the most thoughtless, man in France. This afternoon at four o'clock Cartier and De Pontbriand meet with me to consider the expedition to Canada. Join us in our councils; we cannot but be benefited by the experience and courage of so distinguished a soldier, and one so well acquainted with the New World."
La Pommeraye bowed his acknowledgment, and found himself once more in the streets where life was just beginning to stir. He was soon at the inn to which for years he had resorted when in St Malo, and after a breakfast that would have satisfied Goliath himself, he went to his room to snatch forty winks to brace and refresh him for further adventures.