ations, and the courtyard was strewn with the dead and the dying.
The advance was checked; De Roberval's men rallied, rushed from the
castle, and won a glorious victory against overwhelming numbers.
Bastienne herself was badly shaken by the explosion, and terrified half
to death at her own daring. To the end of her days she fancied herself
haunted by the spirits of the unhappy Spaniards whom she had sent to
such a fearful end.

She stood in the doorway, panting from the exertion of coming up the
stairs in unusual haste.

"Ma'amselle," she exclaimed, in what she meant to be a muffled tone, as
she came towards the girls with a mysterious air of having some thing of
importance to communicate, "I fear there is trouble in store. As I
passed the Sieur de Roberval's room just now I saw him making fierce
passes with the sword that hangs above the boar's head. If he is not
possessed of the Devil"--and she crossed herself hurriedly--"he must be
getting ready for a duel, and at his age, too! Heaven have mercy on us
all if anything should happen to him! What is to be done?"

"If he is practising with that famous blade," said Marguerite, turning
to Marie with a confident smile, "your friend will have need of all his
skill to disarm him. It is a magnificent Toledo, and has never known
defeat. But as you say," and her face clouded again, "we must do what we
can to prevent a fatal ending to the duel. Bastienne, be ready to
accompany me at nine o'clock to-night. And say nothing to any one of
what you have seen. Your master has probably good reasons for whatever
he may do, and he would be very indignant if he thought that any one had
been observing his actions."

The old woman, rebuked, left the room, murmuring to herself as she
went, and the two girls proceeded to lay their plans.

A little before the appointed hour that evening, having taken old
Bastienne into their confidence, they secretly left the house, and made
their way to the place of rendezvous, which, as has been said, was but a
short distance away. All three were soon established in the cramped and
narrow little stairway which Marguerite had described, and waited with
no small trepidation the arrival of the contestants.

It was difficult to keep Bastienne quiet. A bright moon was shining in a
clear sky, and a gentle breeze crept in from the Channel, cold and
piercing. The younger women scarcely felt it; but Bastienne's old bones
ached, according to her, as they had neve