n earnest. "It would be your one opportunity," he said;
"for you do not suppose I shall do you the honor to cross swords with
you."

"Most certainly I do. You laughed that night, and no man shall laugh
at me and boast of it."

"I shall always laugh," and the count's laughter, loud and insulting,
drifted to where madame stood.

There was something so sinister in the echo that she became chilled.
She watched the two men, fascinated by she knew not what.

"You shall die for that laugh," said the Chevalier, paling.

"By the cliff, then, but never by the sword."

"By the sword. I shall challenge you at the first mess you attend. If
you refuse and state your reasons, I promise to knock you down. If you
persist in refusing, I shall slap your face wherever and whenever we
chance to meet. That is all I have to say to you; I trust that it is
explicit."

D'Herouville's eyes were full of venom. "It wants only the poet to
challenge me, and the circle will be complete. I will fight the poet
and the vicomte; they come from no doubtful source. As for you, I will
do you the honor to hire a trooper to take my place. Fight you? You
make me laugh against my will! And as for threats, listen to me.
Strike me, and by the gods! Madame shall learn who you are, or,
rather, who you pretend to be." The count whistled a bar of music,
swung about cavalierly, and retraced his steps toward the lower town.

The Chevalier stared at his retreating figure till it sank below the
level of the ridge. He was without redress; he was impotent;
D'Herouville would do as he said. God! He struck his hands together
in his despair, forgetful that madame saw his slightest movement. When
he recollected her, he moved toward her. Madame. D'Herouville had
called her madame.

On seeing him approach her first desire was to move in the same
direction; that is to say, to keep the distance at its present measure.
A thousand questions flitted through her brain. She had heard a
sentence which so mystified her that the impulse to flee went as
suddenly as it came. She succeeded in composing her features by the
time he arrived at her side.

"Madame," he said, quietly, "whither were you bound?"

She looked at him blankly. For the life of her she could not tell at
that moment what had been her destination! The situation struck her as
so absurd that she could barely stifle the hysterical laughter which
rushed to her lips.

"I . . . I will return