d not; he only
sank back against the wall, eyeing my sword with exceeding deference. He
knew not that there was but a foot of blade in the scabbard.

The burgher looked up the street and down the street, after M. Etienne's
example, but there was no help to be seen or heard. He turned to his
tormentor with the valour of a mouse at bay.

"Monsieur, beware what you do. I am Pierre Marceau!"

"Oh, you are Pierre Marceau? And can M. Pierre Marceau explain how he
happened to be faring forth from his dwelling at this unholy hour?"

"I am not faring forth; I am faring home. I--we had a little con--that
is, not to say a conference, but merely a little discussion on matters
of no importance--"

"I have the pleasure," interrupted M. Etienne, sternly, "of knowing
where M. Marceau lives. M. Marceau's errand in this direction is not
accounted for."

"But I was going home--on my sacred honour I was! Ask Jacques, else. But
as we went down the Rue de l'Eveque we saw two men in front of us. As
they reached the wall by M. de Mirabeau's garden a gang of footpads fell
on them. The two drew blades and defended themselves, but the ruffians
were a dozen--a score. We ran for our lives."

M. Etienne wheeled round to me.

"Felix, here is work for us. As I was saying, M. Marceau, your decree is
most offensive to the general-duke, and therefore, since he is my
particular enemy, most pleasing to me. A beautiful night, is it not,
sir? I wish you a delightful walk home."

He seized me by the hand, and we dashed up the street.

At the corner the noise of a fray came faintly but plainly to our ears.
M. le Comte without hesitation plunged down a lane in the direction of
the sound.

"I said I wanted no more fighting to-night, but two against a mob! We
know how it feels."

The clash of steel on steel grew ever louder, and as we wheeled around a
jutting garden wall we came full upon the combatants.

"A rescue, a rescue!" cried M. Etienne. "Shout, Felix! Montjoie St.
Denis! A rescue, a rescue!"

We charged down the street, drawing our swords and shouting at the top
of our lungs.

It was too dark to see much save a mass of struggling figures, with
every now and then, as the steel hit, a point of light flashing out, to
fade and appear again like a brilliant glow-worm. We could scarce tell
which were the attackers, which the two comrades we had come to save.

But if we could not make them out, neither could they us. We shouted as
boldly as