with that of the greatest duellist in the world, and one who had
always killed his man.

There was something more that gave spirit and courage to Coleman: he was
in some indirect way remembering the beautiful girl who had appeared at
the door of his room, and he half imagined that he was doing battle for
the right to know more of her. Youth is a mystery in itself, and love
knows no law of origin or of progress. By some cerebral slight, some
trick of thinking under a thought, so to say, Coleman was making a love
dream keep time to the ringing strokes of his sword. A girl whose name
he did not know, whose voice he had never heard, was inspiring him as he
strained every nerve.

As the combat proceeded, the lookers-on saw that Coleman's play was new
to the Judge, who found great difficulty in meeting and parrying certain
eccentric movements that invariably ended in a thrust of lightning
quickness. Presently the Judge tore off his mask with his left hand. He
had to do this at the risk of his life, for he could not breath freely
with it on. But his great skill saved him even then; nay, more, it came
near giving him the victory. As Coleman lunged, the agile creole leaped
aside and returned quickly with a wicked thrust that barely reached his
adversary's breast, piercing it to the depth of a half inch.

Now the fight took on more of passion and less of grace, as if the men
felt that it was to be a test of strength at last. Round and round, back
and forth, this way and that, they leaped, and recoiled, and advanced;
their faces--one dark and beautiful as a southern night, the other fair
and magnetic as a New England June day--fixed and staring, the white
froth gathering on their lips.

When the end came it was like nothing ever before witnessed in a New
Orleans duel. How it happened not one of the observers could tell; but
the two men appeared to rush into each other's arms, and then it was
seen that each had run the other through.

That broke the charm. The masked men sprang forward and separated the
combatants, and all began to speak at once.

CHAPTER V.

Judge Favart de Caumartin and Hepworth Coleman were, by order of the
Judge himself, taken to the Judge's mansion, where their wounds were
examined by physicians and surgeons quickly summoned.

Mlle. Olympe de Caumartin found herself nursing two almost dying
patients at the same time. Although she suspected that this was the
result of a duel between her father