cried, "there is more to follow. To your cost shall
you learn it. By God, sir! do you think that I am to suffer a Sicilian
adventurer and a broken tavern ruffler to interfere with my designs?"

Still I kept my temper.

"So!" I said in a bantering tone. "You confess that you have designs.
Good! But what says the lady, eh? I am told that she is not yet
outrageously enamoured of you, for all your beauty!"

Beside himself with passion, his hand sought his sword. But the gesture
was spasmodic.

"Knave!" he snarled.

"Knave to me? Have a care, St. Auban, or I'll find you a shroud for a
wedding garment."

"Knave!" he repeated with a snarl. "What price are you paid by that
boy?"

"Pardieu, St. Auban! You shall answer to me for this."

"Answer for it? To you!" And he laughed harshly. "You are mad, my
master. When did a St. Auban cross swords with a man of your stamp?"

"M. le Marquis," I said, with a calmness that came of a stupendous
effort, "at Choisy you sought my friendship with high-sounding talk of
principles that opposed you to the proposed alliance, twixt the houses
of Mancini and Canaples. Since then I have learned that your motives
were purely personal. From my discovery I hold you to be a liar."

"Monsieur!"

"I have not yet done. You refuse to cross swords with me on the pretext
that you do not fight men of my stamp. I am no saint, sir, I confess.
But my sins cannot wash out my name--the name of a family accounted as
good as that of St. Auban, and one from which a Constable of France
has sprung, whereas yours has never yet bred aught but profligates and
debauchees. You are little better than I am, Marquis; indeed, you do
many things that I would not do, that I have never done. For instance,
whilst refusing to cross blades with me, who am a soldier and a man
of the sword, you seek to pick a fight with a beardless boy who hardly
knows the use of a rapier, and who--wittingly at least--has done you no
wrong. Now, my master, you may call me profligate, ruffler, gamester,
duellist--what you will; but there are two viler things you cannot dub
me, and which, methinks, I have proven you to be--liar and craven."

And as I spoke the burning words, I stood close up to him and tapped his
breast as if to drive the epithets into his very heart.

Rage he felt, indeed, and his distorted countenance was a sight fearful
to behold.

"Now, my master," I added, setting my arms akimbo and laughing brutally
in his face, "