CHAPTER XVII.  THE DUEL.

At the foot of the staircase Tignonville paused.  The droning Norman voices of the men on guard issued from an open door a few paces before him on the left.  He caught a jest, the coarse chuckling laughter which attended it, and the gurgle of applause which followed; and he knew that at any moment one of the men might step out and discover him.  Fortunately the door of the room with the shattered window was almost within reach of his hand on the right side of the passage, and he stepped softly to it.  He stood an instant hesitating, his hand on the latch; then, alarmed by a movement in the guard-room, as if some were rising, he pushed the door in a panic, slid into the room, and shut the door behind him.  He was safe, and he had made no noise; but at the table, at supper, with his back to him and his face to the partly closed window, sat Count Hannibal!

The young man’s heart stood still.  For a long minute he gazed at the Count’s back, spellbound and unable to stir.  Then, as Tavannes ate on without looking round, he began to take courage.  Possibly he had entered so quietly that he had not been heard, or possibly his entrance was taken for that of a servant.  In either case, there was a chance that he might retire after the same fashion; and he had actually raised the latch, and was drawing the door to him with infinite precaution, when Tavannes’ voice struck him, as it were, in the face.

“Pray do not admit the draught, M. de Tignonville,” he said, without looking round.  “In your cowl you do not feel it, but it is otherwise with me.”

The unfortunate Tignonville stood transfixed, glaring at the back of the other’s head.  For an instant he could not find his voice.  At last—­

“Curse you!” he hissed in a transport of rage.  “Curse you!  You did know, then?  And she was right.”

“If you mean that I expected you, to be sure, Monsieur,” Count Hannibal answered.  “See, your place is laid.  You will not feel the air from without there.  The very becoming dress which you have adopted secures you from cold.  But—­do you not find it somewhat oppressive this summer weather?”

“Curse you!” the young man cried, trembling.

Tavannes turned and looked at him with a dark smile.  “The curse may fall,” he said, “but I fancy it will not be in consequence of your petitions, Monsieur.  And now, were it not better you played the man?”

“If I were armed,” the other cried passionately, “you would not insult me!”

“Sit down, sir, sit down,” Count Hannibal answered sternly.  “We will talk of that presently.  In the mean time I have something to say to you.  Will you not eat?”

But Tignonville would not.

“Very well,” Count Hannibal answered; and he went on with his supper.  “I am indifferent whether you eat or not.  It is enough for me that you are one of the two things I lacked an hour ago; and that I have you, M. de Tignonville.  And through you I look to obtain the other.”