And they were struggling in this way when a wholly unexpected and unwelcome interruption came. “How dare you treat a girl like that?” demanded a man’s voice; and Antoine de Cavannes, followed by Henri d’Estelle, who had dogged Denys’ footsteps, rushed up and laid violent hands on his shoulder. “Oh, it’s you, Lucette,” continued Antoine, in anger and surprise. “Why didn’t you call me?” Denys frowned darkly. He released Lucette, who fell back a step or two in disconcerted amazement. “This is no concern of yours, gentlemen,” said Denys. “Indeed, but it is. No cowardly cur shall maltreat a girl in our presence, eh, d’Estelle?” The two men exchanged meaning glances. “Be careful of your words, m’sieu, if you please,” said Denys, his hand going involuntarily to his sword-belt. “Careful with a blackguardly girl-beater like you. Be off about your business and leave mademoiselle with me.” “By God!” cried Denys under his breath. “You shall eat those words, or I am no man.” “Out on you for a braggart,” said Antoine, while his companion gave Denys a violent thrust. “Be off with you, I say,” he exclaimed roughly. In a moment Denys’ sword was out of its scabbard. “No, no, Denys, you must not,” cried Lucette, now in dire consternation at the turn matters had taken. “You’ve often told me of this fellow’s blackguard ways,” said Antoine. “It’s time he had a lesson how to behave.” “Gabrielle, Gabrielle,” cried Lucette, catching sight of her. “Come here. Come here.” “Another petticoat for the coward to skulk behind,” said d’Estelle, with a coarse laugh. “Gentlemen, you have made a great mistake,” cried Gabrielle, hastening forward. “This is not what you think. M. St. Jean is betrothed to Mademoiselle de Boisdegarde.” “It had small appearance of it just now,” said d’Estelle. “And I know it to be false,” declared Antoine. “Monsieur!” exclaimed Gabrielle, drawing herself up. “Mademoiselle!” answered d’Estelle, with insolent imitation of her tone. The words were scarcely out of d’Estelle’s mouth before Denys strode forward and struck him a swinging left-handed blow across the mouth. “You dog!” he said fiercely. The two men drew then and were for attacking him together, but Lucette threw herself before him. Her wits, at first dazed by the dread of trouble to herself from the meeting of Antoine and Denys, were now sharpened by her fear for Denys’ sake from the unequal combat, and by a rapid intuition she jumped to the conclusion that the meeting was designed for her lover’s hurt. “It shall not be. It is not fair--two to one. You cowards!” she cried, facing the couple angrily. “Stand aside, Lucette,” said Denys, putting her away. “The thing has gone too far,” and choosing a spot which he deemed most to his advantage he put himself in an attitude of defence. “Now, messieurs, if you will.” Lucette wrung her hands distractedly.