But they had miscalculated their man; and as the first gallant checked his horse within a few feet of La Pommeraye, his heart grew weak within him as he saw the determined eye and smiling lips of the man he had expected to see turn and flee before him.
"Have at thee, my dainty cock-robin!" said La Pommeraye. "Methinks the smoke from yonder hostel bespeaks a ready breakfast, and I shall do greater justice to the meal after a little exercise. Have at thee!"
The young nobleman grew pale to the lips, but manfully faced the trial he had himself invited. Their horses danced about each other for a few moments, sparks flew from their flashing blades, but the contest was an unequal one. The youth tried hard to reach the breast of his opponent, but his every thrust was met by a determined guard; and when La Pommeraye thought the breathing-time before breakfast had been of sufficient length, he made a few quick passes that the young man's eye could not follow, struck up his antagonist's sword, made a lightning thrust at a broad silver ornament that adorned the gay rider's breast, pushed him from his horse, and laughed a merry laugh as the lad sat up in the dusty road, wondering at his escape. His companion, who had stood by enjoying the contest, heartily joined in the laugh.
"Nobly done!" he exclaimed in admiration, "you handle your sword as if you had been wont to play before King Francis. Henri, thou art not an apt pupil; thou should'st have used thy horse more, and trusted less to thy arms. If Monsieur is not tired with the contest, would he be pleased to measure swords with me? He will find me no mere lad."
"With all the pleasure in life," said Charles, smiling, "But I fear me the bacon at yonder inn will be burnt to a crisp unless I hurry on my way; so draw at once; I have not time to bandy words."
"Have a care, Jules," cried Henri; "he is the Devil."
La Pommeraye caught the name.
"Have I the honour to cross swords with Jules Marchand?" said he. "Your fame is not unknown to me; and were it not for the fact that I am in haste to be at my journey's end, I would fain prolong the fight; as it is, it must be short and sharp."
Like a flash his weapon shot out; like a flash the other met it. But though the swordsman was La Pommeraye's equal in skill, he lacked brawn; and, they had scarce played for a minute's space when Jules Marchand's sword was wrenched from his hand, and he was left sitting, black with wrath, upon his charger, which whinnied as if in recognition of his master's mishap.
"Pardon, gentlemen," said Charles, smiling, "I must not dally longer by the way. Were you not going in the opposite direction, I would invite you to breakfast with me. But beware, hereafter, how you attack lone travellers; were it not that France, now that Spain is once more in arms against her, needs every man who is able to bear a sword, I should have left one of you, at least, by the roadside."