“There can be no doubt about his real rank,” said Vidalinc, “for the Marquis de Bruyeres guarantees it; but I must confess that his unequalled performance to-day filled me with astonishment; it was simply marvellous.  Neither Girolamo nor Paraguante, those two world-renowned swordsmen, could have surpassed it.  I watched him closely, and I tell you that even they could not have withstood him.  It took all your remarkable skill—­which has been so greatly enhanced by the Neapolitan’s instructions—­to avoid being mortally wounded; why your defeat was a victory in my eyes, in that it was not a more overwhelming one.”

“I don’t know how I am to wait for this wound to heal,” the duke said, after a short pause, “I am so impatient to provoke him again, and have the opportunity to revenge myself.”

“That would be a very hazardous proceeding, and one that I should strongly advise you not to attempt,” Vidalinc replied in an earnest tone.  “Your sword-arm will scarcely be as strong as before for a long time I fear, and that would seriously diminish your chances of success.  This Baron de Sigognac is a very formidable antagonist, and will be still more so, for you, now that he knows your tactics; and besides, the confidence in himself which his first victory naturally gives him would be another thing in his favour.  Honour is satisfied, and the encounter was a serious one for you.  Let the matter rest here, I beseech you!”

Vallombreuse could not help being secretly convinced of the justice of these remarks, but was not willing to avow it openly, even to his most intimate friend.  He was a sufficiently accomplished swordsman himself to appreciate de Sigognac’s wonderful prowess, and he knew that it far surpassed his own much vaunted skill, though it enraged him to have to recognise this humiliating fact.  He was even obliged to acknowledge, in his inmost heart, that he owed his life to the generous forbearance of his hated enemy; who might have taken it just as well as not, but had spared him, and been content with giving him only a flesh wound, just severe enough to put him hors-de-combat, without doing him any serious injury.  This magnanimous conduct, by which a less haughty nature would have been deeply touched, only served to irritate the young duke’s pride, and increase his resentment.  To think that he, the valiant and puissant Duke of Vallombreuse, had been conquered, humiliated, wounded! the bare idea made him frantic.  Although he said nothing further to his companion about his revenge, his mind was filled with fierce projects whereby to obtain it, and he swore to himself to be even yet with the author of his present mortification—­if not in one way, then in another; for injuries there be that are far worse than mere physical wounds and hurts.