ene struggled in Schmidt's strong arms, wild with rage.

"You have done enough," said the German; "come!" Rene, silent, himself
again, stared at the fallen man.

"What is the meaning of this outrage!" said De la Foret. "Your name,
sir?"

"I am the Vicomte de Courval," said Rene, perfectly cool. "You will find
me at Madame Swanwick's on Front Street."

Carteaux was sitting upon the sidewalk, still dazed and bleeding. The
crowd looked on. "He hits hard," said one.

"Come, Rene," said the German, and they walked away, Rene still silent.

"I supposed it would come soon or late," said Schmidt. "We shall hear
from them to-morrow."

[Illustration: "Rene struggled in Schmidt's arms, wild with rage"]

"_Mon Dieu_, but I am glad. It is a weight off my mind. I shall kill
him."

Schmidt was hardly as sure. Neither man spoke again until they reached
home.

"Come to my room, Rene," said the German after supper. "I want to settle
that ground-rent business."

As they sat down, he was struck with the young man's look of elation.
"Oh, my pipe first. Where is it? Ah, here it is. What do you mean to
do?"

"Do? I do not mean to let him think it was only the sudden anger of a
French gentleman at a Jacobin's vile speech. He must know why I struck."

"That seems reasonable."

"But I shall not involve in my quarrel a man of your rank. I shall ask
Du Vallon."

"Shall you, indeed! There is wanted here a friend and an older head.
What rank had I when you saw me through my deadly duel with El Vomito?
Now, no more of that." De Courval yielded.

"I shall write to him and explain my action. He may put it as he pleases
to others."

"I see no better way. Write now, and let me see your letter."

Rene sat at the table and wrote while Schmidt smoked, a troubled and
thoughtful man. "He is no match for that fellow with the sword; and
yet"--and he moved uneasily--"it will be, on the whole, better than the
pistol." Any thought of adjustment or of escape from final resort to the
duel he did not consider. It would have been out of the question for
himself and, as he saw it, for any man of his beliefs and training.

"Here it is, sir," said Rene. The German gentleman laid down his long
pipe and read:

SIR: I am desirous that you should not consider my action as the
result of what you said in my hearing to M. de la Foret. I am the
Vicomte de Courval. In the massacre at Avignon on the twelfth of
September, 1791, when my father