he.

The secret door was opened, and Castrillon, still wearing his costume as
the Chevalier, joined them. If one may believe Prince d'Alchingen's
account of this unfortunate meeting, the young men greeted each other
with composure. D'Alchingen declares that he studied Orange to the
depths of his soul, and he does him the justice to say that he did not
make a movement or utter a word which denoted the least emotion. There
was not any sort of alteration in his countenance, and he led the
conversation with a tranquillity and a gaiety really enchanting. When
the supper was served, His Excellency had no hesitation in leaving the
rivals together--so convinced was he that they would remain on good
terms.

"M. de Castrillon," said Orange, when the Prince had gone, "I cannot sit
down at supper with you. We have to settle an old score."

Castrillon bowed:

"I am here to learn your wishes. I have heard from several sources that
you wished to see me. If you have anything to say, pray say it quickly,
because--I have an appointment with Mrs. Parflete."

"Will you do me the favour to leave that lady's name out of the
discussion?"

"I see no reason why I should do you favours, M. de Hausee. But I am
quite ready to atone for my indifference by any course of action which
could satisfy the most scrupulous delicacy."

"There is but one course of action open to us."

"I shall be happy to have the honour of meeting you on your own terms.
But," he added, contemptuously, "we are both wasting our time over a
worthless woman. She was seen leaving your lodgings on Wednesday last. I
have just heard this. And I received, before the play began this
evening, a letter from her fixing a _rendez-vous_ for two o'clock. If
you doubt me I can show you the letter. I am as much disappointed as you
are. She has fooled us both. Before God I could have sworn she was a
religious and modest woman."

His chagrin was so genuine that it was impossible to doubt his good
faith.

"It is a lie," said Orange; "she was never at my lodgings."

"I don't call _you_ a liar, M. de Hausee, but I can prove my words,
whereas it might be difficult to prove yours. I can show you the
letter."

"She never wrote it."

Castrillon sat on the edge of the table, and poured out some wine.

"That is what I said," he replied, "when I read it. So long as we are
going to fight, let it be because we hate each other, and not because we
have both been deceived by the same prud