To do him justice, his hand itched for the sword-hilt--he was brave enough for that; he hated, and only so could he avenge himself.

But the penalty if he had the worse! And yet what of it?
He was in hell now, in a hell of humiliation, shame, defeat, tormented by this fiend! 'Twas only to risk a lower hell.
At last, "I will do it!" he cried hoarsely.

"Give me a sword and look to yourself." "You promise ?" "Yes, yes, I promise!" "Good," Count Hannibal answered suavely, "but we cannot fight so, we must have more light." And striding to the door he opened it, and calling the Norman bade him move the table and bring candles--a dozen candles; for in the narrow streets the light was waning, and in the half-shuttered room it was growing dusk.

Tignonville, listening with a throbbing brain, wondered that the attendant expressed no surprise and said no word--until Tavannes added to his orders one for a pair of swords.
Then, "Monsieur's sword is here," Bigot answered in his half-intelligible patois.

"He left it here yester morning." "You are a good fellow, Bigot," Tavannes answered, with a gaiety and good- humour which astonished Tignonville.