he retort, but
it's not good enough yet. I'll not die from any such thrust as that! How
do you like that?--and that?-and that? Ah, you claim that the
foot-soldier is an incomplete man! Now we're going to make _your_
assortment of limbs a little incomplete. Look out for your boot! He's
parried it! Perhaps he expects to indulge in a little promenade under
Clementine's windows this evening. Take care! Here's for Clementine! And
here's for the infantry! Will you parry that? So, traitor! And that? So
he does! Perhaps you'll parry them all, then, by Heavens! Victory! Ah,
Monsieur! Your blood is flowing! What have I done? Devil take the sword,
the horse, and all! Major! major! come quickly! Monsieur, let yourself
rest in my arms. Beast that I am! As if all soldiers were not brothers!
Oh, forgive me, my friend! Would that I could redeem each drop of your
blood with all of mine! Miserable Fougas, incapable of mastering his
fierce passions! Ah, you Esculapian Mars, I beg you tell me that the
thread of his days is not to be clipped! I will not survive him, for he
is a brave!"

M. du Marnet had received a magnificent cut which traversed the left arm
and breast, and the blood was streaming from it at a rate to make one
shudder. The surgeon, who had provided himself with hemostatic
preparations, hastened to arrest the hemorrhage. The wound was long
rather than deep, and could be cured in a few days. Fougas himself
carried his adversary to the carriage, but that did not satisfy him. He
firmly insisted on joining the two officers who took M. du Marnet home;
he overwhelmed the wounded man with his protestations, and was occupied
during most of the ride in swearing eternal friendship to him. On
reaching the house, he put him to bed, embraced him, bathed him with
tears, and did not leave him for a moment until he heard him snoring.

When six o'clock struck, he went to dine at the hotel, in company with
his seconds and the referee, all of whom he had invited after the fight.
He treated them magnificently, and got drunk himself, as usual.

CHAPTER XV.

IN WHICH THE READER WILL SEE THAT IT IS NOT FAR FROM THE CAPITAL TO THE
TARPEIAN ROCK.

The next day, after a visit to M. du Marnet, he wrote thus to
Clementine:

"Light of my life, I am about to quit these scenes, the
witnesses of my fatal courage and the repositories of
my love. To the bosom of the capital, to the foot of
the throne, I will first betake my st