talk in vain! How is one to argue against a
purpose formed! Come away, Philippe. Don't you see the trap..."

M. de Vilmorin cut him short, and flung him off. "Be quiet, Andre. M. le
Marquis is entirely in the right."

"M. le Marquis is in the right?" Andre-Louis let his arms fall
helplessly. This man he loved above all other living men was caught in
the snare of the world's insanity. He was baring his breast to the knife
for the sake of a vague, distorted sense of the honour due to himself.
It was not that he did not see the trap. It was that his honour
compelled him to disdain consideration of it. To Andre-Louis in that
moment he seemed a singularly tragic figure. Noble, perhaps, but very
pitiful.

CHAPTER IV. THE HERITAGE

It was M. de Vilmorin's desire that the matter should be settled out
of hand. In this he was at once objective and subjective. A prey to
emotions sadly at conflict with his priestly vocation, he was above
all in haste to have done, so that he might resume a frame of mind more
proper to it. Also he feared himself a little; by which I mean that his
honour feared his nature. The circumstances of his education, and the
goal that for some years now he had kept in view, had robbed him of much
of that spirited brutality that is the birthright of the male. He had
grown timid and gentle as a woman. Aware of it, he feared that once the
heat of his passion was spent he might betray a dishonouring weakness,
in the ordeal.

M. le Marquis, on his side, was no less eager for an immediate
settlement; and since they had M. de Chabrillane to act for his cousin,
and Andre-Louis to serve as witness for M. de Vilmorin, there was
nothing to delay them.

And so, within a few minutes, all arrangements were concluded, and you
behold that sinisterly intentioned little group of four assembled in
the afternoon sunshine on the bowling-green behind the inn. They were
entirely private, screened more or less from the windows of the house by
a ramage of trees, which, if leafless now, was at least dense enough to
provide an effective lattice.

There were no formalities over measurements of blades or selection
of ground. M. le Marquis removed his sword-belt and scabbard, but
declined--not considering it worth while for the sake of so negligible an
opponent--to divest himself either of his shoes or his coat. Tall, lithe,
and athletic, he stood to face the no less tall, but very delicate and
frail, M. de Vilmorin. The