But in St.Auban's face I saw, as in a mirror, that he who came was Michelot.
"Mort de Christ!" snarled the Marquis, springing back beyond my reach.
"What can a man do with naught but fools and poltroons to serve him?
Faugh! We will continue our sword-play at St.Sulpice des Reaux to-night.

Au revoir, M.de Luynes!" Turning, he sheathed his sword, and, running down to the river, bounded into the boat, where I heard him reviling Vilmorin with every foul name he could call to mind.
My blood was aflame, and I was not minded to wait for our meeting at Reaux.

Consigning Mademoiselle to the care of Michelot, who stood panting and bleeding from a wound in his shoulder, I turned back to my dead horse, and plucking the remaining pistol from the holster I ran down to the very edge of the water.

The boat was not ten yards from shore, and my action had been unheeded by St.Auban, who was standing in the stern.
Kneeling I took careful aim at him, and as God lives, I would have saved much trouble that was to follow had I been allowed to fire.

But at that moment a hand was laid upon my arm, and Yvonne's sweet voice murmured in my ear: "You have fought a brave and gallant fight, M.de Luynes, and you have done a deed of which the knights of old might have been proud.