With a fierce gesture he drew his sword.

For a moment the marquis thought that he was about to be impaled upon it; but he gave no sign of fear.

Presently the sword deviated from its horizontal line, declined gradually till the point touched the floor.

The Chevalier leaned upon it, swaying slightly.

His eyes burned like opals.
"No, Monsieur, no! I will let you live, to die of old age, alone, in silence, surrounded by those hideous phantoms which the approach of death creates from ill-spent lives.