en and earth! I tell you, you annoy me, monsieur, and that if you
do not go away willingly I will make you."

"Oh! oh! we shall see that."

"Yes, we shall see."

"Monsieur, I have particular business here. Now, if you will have it, I
will cross swords with you, but I will not go away."

"Monsieur, I am Comte Henri du Bouchage, brother of the Duc de Joyeuse.
Once more, will you yield me the place, and go away?"

"Monsieur," replied the other, "I am the Vicomte Ernanton de Carmainges.
You do not annoy me at all, and I do not ask you to go away."

Du Bouchage reflected a moment, and then put his sword back in its
sheath.

"Excuse me, monsieur," said he; "I am half mad, being in love."

"And I also am in love, but I do not think myself mad for that."

Henri grew pale.

"You are in love!" said he.

"Yes, monsieur."

"And you confess it?"

"Is it a crime?"

"But with some one in this street?"

"Yes, for the present."

"In Heaven's name tell me who it is!"

"Ah! M. du Bouchage, you have not reflected on what you are asking me;
you know a gentleman cannot reveal a secret, of which only half belongs
to him."

"It is true; pardon, M. de Carmainges; but, in truth, there is no one so
unhappy as I am under heaven."

There was so much real grief and eloquent despair in these words, that
Ernanton was profoundly touched.

"Oh! mon Dieu! I understand," said he; "you fear that we are rivals."

"I do."

"Well; monsieur, I will be frank."

Joyeuse grew pale again.

"I," continued Ernanton, "have a rendezvous."

"A rendezvous?"

"Yes."

"In this street?"

"Yes."

"Written?"

"Yes; in very good writing."

"A woman's?"

"No; a man's."

"What do you mean?"

"What I say. I have an invitation to a rendezvous with a woman, written
by a man; it seems she has a secretary."

"Ah! go on, monsieur."

"I cannot refuse you, monsieur. I will tell you the tenor of the note."

"I listen."

"You will see if it is like yours."

"Oh! monsieur, I have no rendezvous--no note."

Ernanton then drew out a little paper. "Here is the note, monsieur,"
said he; "it would be difficult to read it to you by this obscure light:
but it is short, and I know it by heart, if you will trust to me."

"Oh! entirely."

"This is it, then: 'M. Ernanton, my secretary is charged by me to tell
you that I have a great desire to talk with you for an hour; your merit
has touched me.' I pass over another phrase still more flatte