De Wardes wiped his forehead, which was covered with a cold perspiration.
"It was just in time," he murmured.
"Where are you hurt ?" inquired Manicamp of De Guiche, "and whereabouts are you wounded ?" De Guiche showed him his mutilated hand and his chest covered with blood.
"Comte," exclaimed De Wardes, "I am accused of having assassinated you; speak, I implore you, and say that I fought loyally." "Perfectly so," said the wounded man; "Monsieur de Wardes fought quite loyally, and whoever says the contrary will make an enemy of me." "Then, sir," said Manicamp, "assist me, in the first place, to carry this gentleman home, and I will afterwards give you every satisfaction you please; or, if you are in a hurry, we can do better still; let us stanch the blood from the comte's wounds here, with your pocket-handkerchief and mine, and then, as there are two shots left, we can have them between us." "Thank you," said De Wardes.

"Twice already, in one hour, I have seen death too close at hand to be agreeable; I don't like his look at all, and I prefer your apologies." Manicamp burst out laughing, and Guiche, too, in spite of his sufferings.

The two young men wished to carry him, but he declared he felt quite strong enough to walk alone.

The ball had broken his ring-finger and his little finger, and then had glanced along his side, but without penetrating deeply into his chest.

It was the pain rather than the seriousness of the wound, therefore, which had overcome De Guiche.