u never mentioned his name to me. Now
that I hear it again, I remember that that was the name my assailant had
the audacity to give my uncle last night. It had vanished from my memory
when I swooned. But what do you know of De la Pommeraye? Where did you
ever meet him?"

"That man's name La Pommeraye?" cried Marie, disregarding these
enquiries, and gazing eagerly after the retreating figure of the
fair-haired unknown. "Can there be two of the same name? Could it be
possible that he was not dead, or that Claude's friend was another! Yes,
that is he; I am sure of it now! How was I so stupid as not to recognise
him? I remember him," she explained, "some sixteen years ago, when I was
a very little girl. He was a great lad, not more than fifteen, who took
me in his arms, and tossed me high above his head. He had just come from
Pavia, where, in the disastrous battle, he had twice saved my father's
life. Since then I have never seen him; but I have heard of him
occasionally as flitting about by sea and land, seeking adventure; a
restless soul, who never seems happy unless he is in danger of being
killed."

"I am sorry to hear that you know him," said Marguerite, a little
coldly, "for I fear he is in danger of being killed in earnest this
time. As I came to myself in my uncle's arms at the door last night, I
heard him say, 'To-morrow night, remember! The Sillon: and come without
witnesses.' The words can have only one meaning. They must be about to
meet again to-night; and in a calmer mood, and with a better weapon, my
uncle cannot fail to administer to him the chastisement his insolence
deserves."

"Pray Heaven the Sieur de Roberval may not meet his death instead,"
exclaimed Marie fervently. "If this man and Claude de Pontbriand's
friend be one and the same, there is no more famous duellist in France.
He has never been defeated; and he has the advantage of youth and
strength on his side. Your uncle will require the aid of an angel from
Heaven if he is to avenge himself on La Pommeraye."

Marguerite had risen, and was pacing the room with an agitated air.

"I have been greatly troubled about it," she said. "I did not know what
you tell me now, of course; and I hope and pray that you may be wrong.
But my uncle is not so young as he once was, and he will be quite alone,
and at the mercy of this villain. I have been trying to think out some
plan by which it might be prevented, but I do not know what we can do."

"There woul