onsieur
Lacheneur here has told you nothing."

"Jean has told me all."

"Well, then?"

Martial's coolness drove Maurice frantic.

"Well," he replied, with extreme violence, "my hatred is unabated even
if my scorn is diminished. You have owed me an opportunity to avenge
myself, Monsieur, ever since the day we met on the square at Sairmeuse
in the presence of Mademoiselle Lacheneur. You said to me on that
occasion: 'We shall meet again.' Here we stand now face to face. What
insults must I heap upon you to decide you to fight?"

A flood of crimson dyed Martial's face. He seized one of the swords
which Bavois offered him, and assumed an attitude of defence.

"You will have it so," said he in a husky voice. "The thought of
Marie-Anne can no longer save you."

But the blades had scarcely crossed before a cry from Jean and from
Corporal Bavois arrested the combat.

"The soldiers!" they exclaimed; "let us fly!"

A dozen soldiers were indeed approaching at the top of their speed.

"Ah! I spoke the truth!" exclaimed Maurice. "The coward came, but the
gendarmes accompanied him."

He bounded back, and breaking his sword over his knee, he hurled the
fragments in Martial's face, saying:

"Here, miserable wretch!"

"Wretch!" repeated Jean and Corporal Bavois, "traitor! coward!"

And they fled, leaving Martial thunderstruck.

He struggled hard to regain his composure. The soldiers were very near;
he ran to meet them, and addressing the officer in command, he said,
imperiously:

"Do you know who I am?"

"Yes," replied the sergeant, respectfully, "you are the son of the Duc
de Sairmeuse."

"Very well! I forbid you to follow those men."

The sergeant hesitated at first; then, in a decided tone, he replied:

"I cannot obey you, sir. I have my orders."

And addressing his men:

"Forward!" he exclaimed. He was about to set the example, when Martial
seized him by the arm.

"At least you will not refuse to tell me who sent you here?"

"Who sent us? The colonel, of course, in obedience to orders from the
_grand prevot_, Monsieur de Courtornieu. He sent the order last
night. We have been hidden in that grove since daybreak. But release
me--_tonnerre_! would you have my expedition fail entirely?"

He hurried away, and Martial, staggering like a drunken man, descended
the slope, and remounted his horse.

But he did not repair to the Chateau de Sairmeuse; he returned to
Montaignac, and passed the remainder of the