“He declined to give it, saying that it would not afford your lordship any information,” Pierre made answer, as he turned back and opened wide both leaves of the door.

Upon the threshold appeared a handsome young man, dressed in a rich and elegant travelling costume of chestnut brown cloth trimmed with green, and holding in his hand a broad felt hat with a long green plume; leaving his well shaped, proudly carried head fully exposed to view, as well as the delicate, regular features of a face worthy of an ancient Greek statue.  The sight of this fine cavalier did not seem to make an agreeable impression upon de Sigognac, who turned very pale, and rushing to where his trusty sword was suspended, over the head of his bed, drew it from the scabbard, and turned to face the new-comer with the naked blade in his hand.

“By heaven, my lord duke, I believed that I had killed you!” he cried in excited tones.  “Is it really you—­your very self—­or your wraith that stands before me?”

“It is really I—­my very self—­Hannibal de Vallombreuse, in the flesh, and no wraith; as far from being dead as possible,” answered the young duke, with a radiant smile.  “But put up that sword I pray you, my dear baron!  We have fought twice already, you know, and surely that is enough.  I do not come as an enemy, and if I have to reproach myself with some little sins against you, you have certainly had your revenge for them, so we are quits.  To prove that my intentions are not hostile, but of the most friendly nature if you will so allow, I have brought credentials, in the shape of this commission, signed by the king, which gives you command of a regiment.  My good father and I have reminded his majesty of the devotion of your illustrious ancestors to his royal ones, and I have ventured to bring you this good news in person.  And now, as I am your guest, I pray you have something or other killed, I don’t care what, and put on the spit to roast as quickly as may be—­for the love of God give me something to eat—­I am starving.  The inns are so far apart and so abominably bad down here that there might almost as well be none at all, and my baggage-wagon, stocked with edibles, is stuck fast in a quagmire a long way from this.  So you see the necessities of the case.”

“I am very much afraid, my lord duke, that the fare I can offer will seem to you only another form of revenge on my part,” said de Sigognac with playful courtesy; “but do not, I beseech you, attribute to resentment the meagre repast for which I shall be obliged to claim your indulgence.  You must know how gladly I would put before you a sumptuous meal if I could; and what we can give you will at least, as my good Pierre says, satisfy hunger, though it may not gratify the palate.  And let me now say that your frank and cordial words touch me deeply, and find an echo in my inmost heart.  I am both proud and happy to call you my friend—­henceforth you will not have one more loyal and devoted than myself—­and though you may not often have need of my services, they will be, none the less, always at your disposition.  Halloa!  Pierre! do you go, without a moment’s delay, and hunt up some fowls, eggs, meat, whatever you can find, and try to serve a substantial meal to this gentleman, my friend, who is nearly dying with hunger, and is not used to it like you and I.”