or a moment in doubt, was guided by the sound of
the flying footsteps. The chevalier, still trying to send him off on a
false trail, turned to the right, and so regained the upper end of the
rue Saint-Andre, and ran along it as far as the church, the site of which
is occupied by the square of the same name to-day. Here he thought he
would be safe, for, as the church was being restored and enlarged, heaps
of stone stood all round the old pile. He glided in among these, and
twice heard Vitry searching quite close to him, and each time stood on
guard expecting an onslaught. This marching and counter-marching lasted
for some minutes; the chevalier began to hope he had escaped the danger,
and eagerly waited for the moment when the moon which had broken through
the clouds should again withdraw behind them, in order to steal into some
of the adjacent streets under cover of the darkness. Suddenly a shadow
rose before him and a threatening voice cried--

"Have I caught you at last, you coward?"

The danger in which the chevalier stood awoke in him a flickering energy,
a feverish courage, and he crossed blades with his assailant. A strange
combat ensued, of which the result was quite uncertain, depending
entirely on chance; for no science was of any avail on a ground so rough
that the combatants stumbled at every step, or struck against immovable
masses, which were one moment clearly lit up, and the next in shadow.
Steel clashed on steel, the feet of the adversaries touched each other,
several times the cloak of one was pierced by the sword of the other,
more than once the words "Die then!" rang out. But each time the
seemingly vanquished combatant sprang up unwounded, as agile and as lithe
and as quick as ever, while he in his turn pressed the enemy home. There
was neither truce nor pause, no clever feints nor fencer's tricks could
be employed on either side; it was a mortal combat, but chance, not
skill, would deal the death-blow. Sometimes a rapid pass encountered
only empty air; sometimes blade crossed blade above the wielders' heads;
sometimes the fencers lunged at each other's breast, and yet the blows
glanced aside at the last moment and the blades met in air once more. At
last, however, one of the two, making a pass to the right which left his
breast unguarded, received a deep wound. Uttering a loud cry, he
recoiled a step or two, but, exhausted by the effort, tripped and fell
backward over a large stone, and la