“I swore I wouldn’t touch a farthing’s worth of her jewellery, which perhaps I did not think was worth a great deal,—but what can a woman do more than give you her all? That’s the sort I like, and I know there’s plenty of ’em. And I told her to be easy about the money, for I would not pay one single farthing.
“‘Then they’ll shoot you,’ says she; ‘they’ll kill my Ferdinand.’”
“They’ll kill my Jack wouldn’t have sounded well in French,” Strong said, laughing.
“Never mind about names,” said the other, sulkily; “a man of honour may take any name he chooses, I suppose.”
“Well, go on with your story,” said Strong. “She said they would kill you.”
“‘No,’ says I, ‘they won’t: for I will not let that scamp of a Marquis send me out of the world; and if he lays a hand on me, I’ll brain him, Marquis as he is.’
“At this the Countess shrank back from me as if I had said something very shocking. ‘Do I understand Colonel Altamont aright?’ says she: ‘and that a British officer refuses to meet any person who provokes him to the field of honour?’
“‘Field of honour be hanged, Countess,’ says I. ‘You would not have me be a target for that little scoundrel’s pistol practice.’
“‘Colonel Altamont,’ says the Countess, ‘I thought you were a man of honour—I thought, I—but no matter. Good-bye, sir.’—And she was sweeping out of the room, her voice regular choking in her pocket-handkerchief.
“‘Countess!’ says I, rushing after her and seizing her hand.