call for aid. Your impertinence is even greater than Monsieur
d'Halluys'. I wonder at your courage in thus addressing me."

"I am not a patient man, Madame," coming closer. "I have publicly
vowed my love for you, and Heaven nor hell shall keep me from you."

"Not even myself? Come, Monsieur," wrathfully, "you are acting like a
fool or a boy. Women such as I am are not won in this braggart
fashion. Certainly you must admit that I have something to say in
regard to the disposition of my hand. And let me say this at once: I
shall wed no man; and were either you or Monsieur le Comte the last man
in the world, I should run away and hide. Stand aside."

"And if I should use force?" throwing aside the reins of self-control.

"Force, force!" flinging wide her hands; "you speak to me of force!
Monsieur, you are not a fool, but a madman."

"But we are still tender toward the Chevalier?" snarling.

"The least I can say of Monsieur le Chevalier is that he is a
gentleman."

"A gentleman? Ho! that is rich. A gentleman!"

The path was at this point almost too narrow for her to walk around
him; so she waited without replying.

"And do not forget, Madame, that you are a fugitive from justice, and
that a word to Monsieur de Lauson . . ."

"I dare you to speak, Monsieur," with growing anger. "Have you no
bogus paper to hold over my head? Are you about to play the vicomte's
trick second-hand?"

"I know nothing about his tricks, but I shall kill him at an early
date."

Madame's shrug said plainly that it mattered nothing to her. "Once
more, will you stand aside, or must I call?"

"Call, Madame!" His violence got the better of him, and he seized her
wrist. "Call to the fellow who calls himself the Chevalier; call!"

"Do I hear some one calling my name?" said a voice not far away.

D'Herouville looked over madame's shoulder, while madame turned with
relief. She quickly released her wrist and sped some distance up the
path, passing the Chevalier, who did not stop till he stood face to
face with D'Herouville.

"You were about to remark?" began the Chevalier, a frank and honest
hatred in his eyes.

The count eyed him contemptuously. "Stand out of the way, you . . ."

"Do not speak that word aloud, Monsieur," interrupted the Chevalier,
gloomily, "or I will force it down your throat, though we both tumble
over the cliff."

D'Herouville knew the Perigny blood well enough to believe that the
Chevalier was i