We left de Jars and Jeannin,roaring with laughter,in the tavern in the rue Saint Andre-des-Arts.
"What!"said the treasurer,"do you really think that Angelique thought I was in earnest in my offer?--that she believes in all good faith I intend to marry her?""You may take my word for it.If it were not so,do you imagine she would have been in such desperation?Would she have fainted at my threat to tell you that I had claims on her as well as you?To get married!Why,that is the goal of all such creatures,and there is not one of them who can understand why a man of honour should blush to give her his name.If you had only seen her terror,her tears!
They would have either broken your heart or killed you with laughter.""Well,"said Jeannin,"it is getting late.Are we going to wait for the chevalier?""Let us call,for him."
"Very well.Perhaps he has made up his mind to stay.If so,we shall make a horrible scene,cry treachery and perjury,and trounce your nephew well.Let's settle our score and be off."They left the wine-shop,both rather the worse for the wine they had so largely indulged in.They felt the need of the cool night air,so instead of going down the rue Pavee they resolved to follow the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts as far as the Pont Saint-Michel,so as to reach the mansion by a longer route.
At the very moment the commander got up to leave the tavern the chevalier had run out of the mansion at the top of his speed.It was not that he had entirely lost his courage,for had he found it impossible to avoid his assailant it is probable that he would have regained the audacity which had led him to draw his sword.But he was a novice in the use of arms,had not reached full physical development,and felt that the chances were so much against him that he would only have faced the encounter if there were no possible way of escape.On leaving the house he had turned quickly into the rue Git-le-Coeur;but on hearing the door close behind his pursuer he disappeared down the narrow and crooked rue de l'Hirondelle,hoping to throw the Duc de Vitry off the scent.The duke,however,though for 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 arid fell backward over a large stone,and lay there motionless,his arms extended in the form of a cross.
The other turned and fled.
"Hark,de Jars!"said Jeannin,stopping,"There's fighting going on hereabouts;I hear the clash of swords."Both listened intently.
"I hear nothing now."
"Hush!there it goes again.It's by the church.""What a dreadful cry!"
They ran at full speed towards the place whence it seemed to come,but found only solitude,darkness,and silence.They looked in every direction.
"I can't see a living soul,"said Jeannin,"and I very much fear that the poor devil who gave that yell has mumbled his last prayer,""I don't know why I tremble so,"replied de Jars;"that heart-rending cry made me shiver from head to foot.Was it not something like the chevalier's voice?""The chevalier is with La Guerchi,and even if he had left her this would not have been his way to rejoin us.Let us go on and leave the dead in peace.""Look,Jeannin!what is that in front of us?""On that stone?A man who has fallen!"
"Yes,and bathed in blood,"exclaimed de Jars,who had darted to his side."Ah!it's he!it's he!Look,his eyes are closed,his hands cold!My child he does not hear me!Oh,who has murdered him?"He fell on his knees,and threw himself on the body with every mark of the most violent despair.
