duelling, fought with a young
Englishman behind St Jacques' Church. The Englishman had influence,
the person of whom I speak had none, and an indifferent name; he was
arrested, thrown into the Chatelet, cast for death, left for days to
face death. At last an offer was made to him. If he would seek out and
deliver up another man, an outlaw with a price upon his head, he should
himself go free.'

I paused and drew a deep breath. Then I continued, looking not at her,
but into the distance, and speaking slowly.

'Mademoiselle, it seems easy now to say what course he should have
chosen. It seems hard now to find excuses for him. But there was one
thing which I plead for him. The task he was asked to undertake was
a dangerous one. He risked, he knew that he must risk, and the event
proved him to be right, his life against the life of this unknown man.
And one thing more; time was before him. The outlaw might be taken by
another, might be killed, might die, might--But there, Mademoiselle, we
know what answer this person made. He took the baser course, and on his
honour, on his parole, with money supplied to him, he went free; free on
the condition that he delivered up this other man.'

I paused again, but I did not dare to look at her; and after a moment of
silence I resumed.

'Some portion of the second half of the story you know, Mademoiselle;
but not all. Suffice it that this man came down to a remote village, and
there at risk, but, Heaven knows, basely enough, found his way into his
victim's home. Once there, however, his heart began to fail him. Had he
found the house garrisoned by men, he might have pressed to his end with
little remorse. But he found there only two helpless loyal women; and
I say again that from the first hour of his entrance he sickened at the
work which he had in hand, the work which ill-fortune had laid upon
him. Still he pursued it. He had given his word; and if there was one
tradition of his race which this man had never broken, it was that of
fidelity to his side--to the man who paid him. But he pursued it with
only half his mind, in great misery, if you will believe me; sometimes
in agonies of shame. Gradually, however, almost against his will, the
drama worked itself out before him, until he needed only one thing.

I looked at Mademoiselle, trembling. But her head was averted: I could
gather nothing from the outlines of her form; and I went on.

'Do not misunderstand me,' I said in a low