A woman’s heart understands, and a woman’s ears are quick to hear, m’sieu.  When you were sick, and your mind was wandering, you told her again and again that you loved her—­and when she brought you back to life, her eyes saw more than once the truth of what your lips had betrayed, though you tried to keep it to yourself.  Even more, m’sieu—­she felt the touch of your lips on her hair that day.  She understands.  She has told me everything, openly, innocently—­yet her heart thrills with that sympathy of a woman who knows she is loved.  M’sieu, if you could have seen the light in her eyes and the glow in her cheeks as she told me these secrets.  But I am not jealous!  Non!  It is only because you are a brave man, and one of honor, that I tell you all this.  She would die of shame did she know I had betrayed her confidence.  Yet it is necessary that I tell you, because if we make the big wager we must drop my Jeanne from the gamble.  Do you comprehend me, m’sieu?

“We are two men, strong men, fighting men.  I—­Pierre Boulain—­can not feel the shame of jealousy where a woman’s heart is pure and sweet, and where a man has fought against love with honor as you have fought.  And you, m’sieu—­David Carrigan, of the Police—­can not strike with your hard man’s hand that tender heart, that is like a flower, and which this moment is beating faster than it should with the fear that some harm is going to befall you.  Is it not so, m’sieu?  We will make the wager, yes.  But if you whip Bateese—­and you can not do that in a hundred years of fighting—­I will not tell you why my Jeanne shot at you behind the rock.  Non, never!  Yet I swear I will tell you the other.  If you win, I will tell you all I know about Roger Audemard, and that is considerable, m’sieu.  Do you agree?”

Slowly David held out a hand.  St. Pierre’s gripped it.  The fingers of the two men met like bands of steel.

“Tomorrow you will fight,” said St. Pierre.  “You will fight and be beaten so terribly that you may always show the marks of it.  I am sorry.  Such a man as you I would rather have as a brother than an enemy.  And she will never forgive me.  She will always remember it.  The thought will never die out of her heart that I was a beast to let you fight Bateese.  But it is best for all.  And my men?  Ah!  Diable, but it will be great sport for them, m’sieu!”

His hand unclasped.  He turned to the door.  A moment later it closed behind him, and David was alone.  He had not spoken.  He had not replied to the engulfing truths that had fallen quietly and without a betrayal of passion from St. Pierre’s lips.  Inwardly he was crushed.  Yet his face was like stone, hiding his shame.  And then, suddenly, there came a sound from outside that sent the blood through his cold veins again.  It was laughter, the great, booming laughter of St. Pierre!  It was not the merriment of a man whose heart was bleeding, or into whose life had come an unexpected pain or grief.  It was wild and free, and filled with the joy of the sun-filled day.