a distortion. But he answered spitefully: "To the Devil with you and
your wagers! But I will make it even yet. Perhaps another time you will
not dare to compete so readily."

"Dare, Monsieur!" said De Montalvan, hastily. Then, checking himself, he
added, more composedly: "But why should I quarrel with Fronsacquin? It
is clear he knows nothing. If I must ease my mind by quarrelling, there
are plenty hereabout," and he glared around quite savagely. His eye
lighted upon a _brouette_, one of the small hand-carriages then in
vogue, in which a large and heavily built young man was reclining, while
the owner of the vehicle, a slender lad, toiled with difficulty before
him. "Dare, is it, De Berniers? Do you see that sluggard, wasting this
beautiful day in a lazy _brouette_? Ten louis that I have him out, and
walking, as he ought, in less than five minutes."

"You are mad, M. de Montalvan."

"You decline?"

"No, I accept!" and De Berniers, who was not so tipsy but that he could
plainly see De Montalvan was more so, wore upon his face what by one who
was acquainted with him would have been understood as an air of triumph,
but to a casual observer would convey no direct idea of any kind.

M. de Montalvan rose and advanced, hat in hand. "Pardon me, Monsieur,"
he began, "I have a few observations to address to you. It is a singular
spectacle to behold a man of your health and vigor, and especially of
your size, compelling a poor wretch like this to drag you through the
streets in the midsummer heat."

"It is more singular, Monsieur, that you should venture to address me in
this manner," said the stranger, and he directed his attendant to move
forward.

"No, Monsieur," said De Montalvan, placing himself in the way, "that is
out of the question. I feel it my duty to object to your making use of a
_brouette_ on such a day as this."

"Ah, you object!"

"Most decidedly. In fact I will not allow it."

The stranger sprang with alacrity upon the sidewalk, and, drawing his
sword, advanced upon his persecutor. "We shall see," he said, grimly.

"As you please, Monsieur," said De Montalvan, putting himself on guard.

But, as may be supposed, the soldier's hand was unsteady, and his eye
uncertain. After a few rapid passes, he let fall his right arm, which
had been sharply punctured above the elbow. M. de Berniers absolutely
cackled with delight.

"Now, Monsieur," said the stout stranger, "you will probably suffer me
to traverse t