whilst
Chatellerault, curbing his disorder, drew the Chevalier into a corner of
the room, and stood there listening to him.

At length I heard the Count exclaim--

"Do as you please, Chevalier. If you have interests of your own to
serve, serve them. As for myself--I am past being interested."

"But why, monsieur?" the chevalier inquired.

"Why?" echoed Chatellerault, his ferocity welling up again. Then,
swinging round, he came straight at me, as a bull makes a charge.

"Monsieur de Bardelys!" he blazed.

"Bardelys!" gasped Saint-Eustache in the background.

"What now?" I inquired coldly, turning from my friends.

"All that you said may be true, and I may be doomed, but I swear before
God that you shall not go unpunished."

"I think, monsieur, that you run a grave risk of perjuring yourself!" I
laughed.

"You shall render me satisfaction ere we part!" he cried.

"If you do not deem that paper satisfaction enough, then, monsieur,
forgive me, but your greed transcends all possibility of being ever
satisfied."

"The devil take your paper and your estates! What shall they profit me
when I am dead?"

"They may profit your heirs," I suggested.

"How shall that profit me?"

"That is a riddle that I cannot pretend to elucidate."

"You laugh, you knave!" he snorted. Then, with an abrupt change of
manner, "You do not lack for friends," said he. "Beg one of these
gentlemen to act for you, and if you are a man of honour let us step out
into the yard and settle the matter."

I shook my head.

"I am so much a man of honour as to be careful with whom I cross steel.
I prefer to leave you to His Majesty's vengeance; his headsman may be
less particular than am I. No, monsieur, on the whole, I do not think
that I can fight you."

His face grew a shade paler. It became grey; the jaw was set, and the
eyes were more out of symmetry than I had ever seen them. Their glance
approached what is known in Italy as the mal'occhio, and to protect
themselves against the baneful influences of which men carry charms. A
moment he stood so, eyeing me. Then, coming a step nearer--

"You do not think that you can fight me, eh? You do not think it?
Pardieu! How shall I make you change your mind? To the insult of words
you appear impervious. You imagine your courage above dispute because by
a lucky accident you killed La Vertoile some years ago and the fame of
it has attached to you." In the intensity of his anger he was breathing