it is to
hear him confess that he has felt his heart burn before now. But this is
the one, only, and lasting affection. Ah! Charles, you are still a sad
dog! In this same town six years ago I heard you swear that you would
live and die true to the beautiful daughter of the Sieur des Ormeaux; in
just one week you were on your knees to Cosette, the daughter of the
drunken captain of a fishing smack; and in two months after that I saw
you myself, in the shadow of Mont Royal, wildly gesticulating your
undying devotion to the daughter of old Adario, that greasy potentate
whose warriors were filled with awe at the imposing way in which you
bellowed a 'Te Deum.'"

"Silence, Claude, or, by Heaven, I shall forget that we are sworn
friends in love, in war, and in peace, and challenge you to fight as
soon as I have finished with the fool whom I must now hasten to meet. Do
not follow me, I beg of you; I would not have him think I had friends
standing by to witness our struggle. Good-bye; and if I am not back in
half an hour you will find an account of all my worldly possessions in
an iron box, about six inches square, in my room at the old inn."

Without another word he strode away from them, and a few paces brought
him to the end of the street, where the buildings ceased at the
beginning of the neck of land known as "The Sillon," which connects St
Malo with the mainland. At that time this strip of land was not nearly
so wide as it has since become, and was merely a narrow causeway,
protected from the encroachment of the tides by a stone wall on the side
towards the sea. The two men followed him no further than the end of the
street, and stood in the shadow of the last house, waiting to learn the
result of the encounter.

"There goes the bravest fellow in France," said Claude, as they watched
him disappear. "I only wish there were more like him. He was born to
fight; and he has done so much of it that he has at last come to look
upon a duel as a necessary part of his day's amusement. And the best
thing about him is that he has killed fewer men than any other duellist
in France. He has the heart of a child, and the arm of a giant. But
hark! Stand close. His opponent comes this way. He is past. Listen! By
Heaven, but they have lost no time. They are at it already. I only wish
he had not insisted on our staying concealed. I would rather see him at
sword play than watch an army in action. But what is that? A woman's
scream, as I liv