Leander let the curtain drop, so as not to be seen by the marquis, who was almost grazed by the carriage wheels as they rolled by him, and a satisfied smile played round his lips; he was revenged—­the beating was atoned for now.

The place selected for the hostile meeting between the Baron de Sigognac and the Duke of Vallombreuse was sheltered from the cold north wind by a high wall, which also screened the combatants from the observation of those passing along the road.  The ground was firm, well trodden down, without stones, tufts of grass, or inequalities of any kind, which might be in the way of the swordsmen, and offered every facility to men of honour to murder each other after the most correct and approved fashion.  The Duke of Vallombreuse and the Chevalier de Vidalinc, followed by a surgeon, arrived at the rendezvous only a few seconds after the others, and the four gentlemen saluted each other with the haughty courtesy and frigid politeness becoming to well-bred men meeting for such a purpose.  The duke’s countenance was expressive of the most careless indifference, as he felt perfect confidence in his own courage and skill.  The baron was equally cool and collected, though it was his first duel, and a little nervousness or agitation would have been natural and excusable.  The Marquis de Bruyeres watched him with great satisfaction, auguring good things for their side from his quiet sang-froid.  Vallombreuse immediately threw off his cloak and hat, and unfastened his pourpoint, in which he was closely imitated by de Sigognac.  The marquis and the chevalier measured the swords of the combatants, which were found to be of equal length, and then each second placed his principal in position, and put his sword in his hand.

“Fall to, gentlemen, and fight like men of spirit, as you are,” said the marquis.

“A needless recommendation that,” chimed in the Chevalier de Vidalinc; “they go at it like lions—–­we shall have a superb duel.”

The Duke of Vallombreuse, who, in his inmost heart, could not help despising de Sigognac more than a little, and had imagined that he should find in him but a weak antagonist, was astonished when he discovered the strength of the baron’s sword, and could not deny to himself that he wielded a firm and supple blade, which baffled his own with the greatest ease—­that he was, in fine, a “foeman worthy of his steel.”  He became more careful and attentive; then tried several feints, which were instantly detected.  At the least opening he left, the point of de Sigognac’s sword, rapid as lightning in its play, darted in upon him, necessitating the exercise of all his boasted skill to parry it.  He ventured an attack, which was so promptly met, and his weapon so cleverly struck aside, that he was left exposed to his adversary’s thrust, and but for throwing himself back out of reach, by a sudden, violent movement, he must have received it full in his breast.  From that instant all