duc."

"In other words, that I should become a spy like yourself?"

"No, for there will be a difference; I am not paid, but you will be. You
will begin by showing me the Duc de Guise's letter to Madame la Duchesse
de Montpensier; you will let me take a copy of it, and I will leave you
quiet until another occasion. Well, am I not considerate?"--"Here," said
Borromee, "is my answer."

Borromee's reply was "un coupe sur les armes," so rapidly dealt that the
point of his sword slightly touched Chicot's shoulder.

"Well, well," said Chicot, "I see I must positively show you Nicolas
David's thrust. It is very simple and pretty."

And Chicot, who had up to that moment been acting on the defensive, made
one step forward and attacked in his turn.

"This is the thrust," said Chicot; "I make a feint in quartrebasse."

And he did so; Borromee parried by giving way; but, after this first
step backward he was obliged to stop, as he found that he was close to
the partition.

"Good! precisely so; you parry in a circle; that's wrong, for my wrist
is stronger than yours. I catch your sword in mine, thus. I return to
the attack by a tierce haute, I fall upon you, so, and you are hit, or,
rather, you are a dead man!"

In fact, the thrust had followed, or rather had accompanied, the
demonstration, and the slender rapier, penetrating Borromee's chest, had
glided like a needle completely through him, penetrating deeply, and
with a dull, heavy sound, the wooden partition behind him.

Borromee flung out his arms, letting his sword fall to the ground; his
eyes became fixed and injected with blood, his mouth opened wide, his
lips were stained with a red-colored foam, his head fell on his shoulder
with a sigh, which sounded like a death-rattle; then his limbs refused
their support, and his body as it sunk forward enlarged the aperture of
the wound, but could not free itself from the partition, supported as it
was by Chicot's terrible wrist, so that the miserable wretch, like a
gigantic insect, remained fastened to the wall, which his feet kicked
convulsively.

Chicot, cold and impassible as he always was in positions of great
difficulty, especially when he had a conviction at the bottom of his
heart that he had done everything his conscience could require of
him--Chicot, we say, took his hand from his sword, which remained in a
horizontal position, unfastened the captain's belt, searched his
doublet, took the letter, and read the addr