was only her wine that was in
fault.

While this passed at the door, all the rest were at table, where they
were warmly discussing the previous quarrel. Many frankly blamed St.
Maline; others abstained, seeing the frowning brow of their comrade.
They did not attack with any less enthusiasm the supper of M.
Fournichon, but they discussed as they ate.

"As for me," said Hector de Bizan, "I know that M. de St. Maline was
wrong, and that had I been Ernanton de Carmainges, M. de St. Maline
would be at this moment stretched on the ground instead of sitting
here."

St. Maline looked at him furiously.

"Oh, I mean what I say," continued he; "and stay, there is some one at
the door who appears to agree with me."

All turned at this, and saw Ernanton standing in the doorway, looking
very pale. He descended from the step, as the statue of the commander
from his pedestal, and walked straight up to St. Maline, firmly, but
quietly.

At this sight, several voices cried, "Come here, Ernanton; come this
side, Carmainges; there is room here."

"Thank you," replied the young man; "but it is near M. de St. Maline
that I wish to sit." St. Maline rose, and all eyes were fixed on him.
But as he rose, his face changed its expression.

"I will make room for you, monsieur," said he, gently; "and in doing so
address to you my frank and sincere apologies for my stupid aggression
just now; I was drunk; forgive me."

This declaration did not satisfy Ernanton; but the cries of joy that
proceeded from all the rest decided him to say no more, although a
glance at St. Maline showed him that he was not to be trusted. St.
Maline's glass was full, and he filled Ernanton's.

"Peace! peace!" cried all the voices.

Carmainges profited by the noise, and leaning toward St. Maline, with a
smile on his lips, so that no one might suspect the sense of what he was
saying, whispered:

"M. de St. Maline, this is the second time that you have insulted me
without giving me satisfaction; take care, for at the third offense I
will kill you like a dog."

And the two mortal enemies touched glasses as though they had been the
best friends.

CHAPTER LIX.

WHAT WAS PASSING IN THE MYSTERIOUS HOUSE.

While the hotel of the "Brave Chevalier," the abode, apparently, of the
most perfect concord, with closed doors and open cellars, showed through
the openings of the shutters the light of its candles and the mirth of
its guests, an unaccustomed movement