was changed for the young duke; he had believed that he would be able to direct the combat according to his own will and pleasure, but, instead of that, he was forced to make use of all his skill and address to defend himself.  He had believed that after a few passes he could wound de Sigognae, wherever he chose, by a thrust which, up to that time, he had always found successful; but, instead of that, he had hard work to avoid being wounded himself.  Despite his efforts to remain calm and cool, he was rapidly growing angry; he felt himself becoming nervous and feverish, while the baron, perfectly at his ease and unmoved, seemed to take a certain pleasure in irritating him by the irreproachable excellence of his fence.

“Sha’n’t we do something in this way too, while our friends are occupied?” said the chevalier to the marquis.

“It is very cold this morning.  Suppose we fight a little also, if only to warm ourselves up, and set our blood in motion.”

“With all my heart,” the marquis replied; “we could not do better.”

The chevalier was superior to the Marquis de Bruyeres in the noble art of fencing, and after a few passes had sent the latter’s sword flying out of his hand.  As no enmity existed between them, they stopped there by mutual consent, and turned their attention again to de Sigognac and Vallombreuse.  The duke, sore pressed by the close play of the baron, had fallen back several feet from his original position.  He was becoming weary, and beginning to draw panting breaths.  From time to time, as their swords clashed violently together, bluish sparks flew from them; but the defence was growing perceptibly weaker, and de Sigognac was steadily forcing the duke to give way before his attack.  When he saw the state of affairs, the Chevalier de Vidalinc turned very pale, and began to feel really anxious for his friend, who was so evidently getting the worst of it.

“Why the devil doesn’t he try that wonderful thrust he learned from Girolamo of Naples?” murmured he.  “This confounded Gascon cannot possibly know anything about that.”

As if inspired by the same thought, the young duke did, at that very moment, try to put it into execution; but de Sigognac, aware of what he was preparing to do, not only prevented but anticipated him, and touched and wounded his adversary in the arm—­his sword going clean through it.

The pain was so intense that the duke’s fingers could no longer grasp his sword, and it fell to the ground.  The baron, with the utmost courtesy, instantly desisted, although he was entitled by the rules of the code to follow up his blow with another—­for the duel does not necessarily come to an end with the first blood drawn.  He turned the point of his sword to the ground, put his left hand on his hip, and stood silently awaiting his antagonist’s pleasure.  But Vallombreuse could not hold the sword which his second had picked up and presented to him, after a nod of acquiescence from de Sigognac; and he turned away to signify that he had had enough.  Whereupon, the marquis and the baron, after bowing politely to the others, set forth quietly to walk back to the town.