red so widely from
the forward attitude then in fashion among French duellists, that
Monsieur D'Estanges, convinced that he knew nothing of swordplay,
shrugged his shoulders pityingly. The moment, however, that the
swords grated against each other; and Philip put aside, with a
sharp turn of the wrist, a lunge with which his opponent intended
at once to finish the combat, the expression of his face changed.

"The lad did not speak boastfully, when he said he was a fair
swordsman," he muttered to himself. "He does not fight in our
fashion, but at least he knows what he is about."

For some minutes the fight continued, Raoul's temper rising higher
and higher, as he found every attack baffled by a foe he had
despised, and who refused to fall back even an inch, however hotly
he pressed him. He had at first intended either to wound or disarm
him, but he soon fought to kill. At last there was a fierce rally,
ending by Philip parrying a home thrust and, returning it with
lightning swiftness, running Raoul de Fontaine through the body
with such force that the hilt of his sword struck against his
chest, and he sank lifeless to the ground.

"By our Lady, young gentleman," Monsieur D'Estanges exclaimed, "but
you have done well! You said that you were a fair swordsman. Truly
you are of the highest class. Raoul's temper has led him into many
a duel, and he has always wounded or killed his man. Who could have
thought that he would receive his death blow at the hands of a
youth?

"But whom have we here? Peste! This is awkward."

As he spoke, Count Darbois, the governor of Agen, with a body of
troopers, rode up. He had ridden to within a mile or two of Nerac
and, questioning persons from the town, learned that everything was
quiet there, and that no fresh body of Huguenots had arrived. He
was on his way back when, hearing the clash of swords, he had
ridden into the wood to inquire into its meaning.

"What is this?" he exclaimed.

"Why, what is this, Monsieur De Fontaine? Your cousin, Count Raoul,
dead!"

Louis, who was leaning over his cousin, looked up.

"Alas! I fear that it is so, Monsieur le Comte. My poor cousin has
fallen in a duel."

"What a misfortune, and at such a moment! Is it not scandalous
that, at a time like this, when every gentleman's sword is needed
in defence of our king and faith, they should indulge in private
quarrels?

"And is it you, Monsieur D'Estanges, who has done his majesty this
bad service?