esert our company. M. de Montcrabeau," continued he, "go
down and come back with a light."

"M. de Montcrabeau," cried Ernanton, "if you do that, remember it will
be a personal offense to me."

Montcrabeau hesitated.

"Good," replied St. Maline, "we have our oath, and M. de Carmainges is
so strict that he will not infringe discipline; we cannot draw our
swords against each other; therefore, a light, Montcrabeau, a light!"

Montcrabeau descended, and in five minutes returned with a light, which
he offered to St. Maline.

"No, no," said he; "keep it; I may, perhaps, want both hands."

And he made a step forward.

"I take you all to witness," cried Ernanton, "that I am insulted without
reason, and that in consequence"--and he drew his sword--"I will bury
this sword in the breast of the first man who advances."

St. Maline, furious, was about to draw his sword also; but before he had
time to do so, the point of Ernanton's was on his breast, and as he
advanced a step, without Ernanton's moving his arm, St. Maline felt the
iron on his flesh, and drew back furious, but Ernanton followed him,
keeping the sword against his breast. St. Maline grew pale; if Ernanton
had wished it, he could have pinned him to the wall, but he slowly
withdrew his sword.

"You merit two deaths for your insolence," said he, "but the oath of
which you spoke restrains me, and I will touch you no more; let me pass.
Come, madame, I answer for your free passage."

Then appeared a woman, whose head was covered by a hood, and her face by
a mask, and who took Ernanton's arm, tremblingly. St. Maline stood by,
stifling with rage at his merited punishment. He drew his dagger as
Ernanton passed by him. Did he mean to strike Ernanton, or only to do
what he did? No one knew, but as they passed, his dagger cut through the
silken hood of the duchess and severed the string of her mask, which
fell to the ground. This movement was so rapid that in the half light no
one saw or could prevent it. The duchess uttered a cry; St. Maline
picked up the mask and returned it to her, looking now full in her
uncovered face.

"Ah!" cried he, in an insolent tone, "it is the beautiful lady of the
litter. Ernanton, you get on fast."

Ernanton stopped and half-drew his sword again; but the duchess drew him
on, saying, "Come on, I beg you, M. Ernanton."

"We shall meet again, M. de St. Maline," said Ernanton, "and you shall
pay for this, with the rest."

And he went on