Startled at the voice of a newcomer, the three turned and looked at me in surprise. Blaise, at a loss as to what he ought to do, remained in the background. "But," I added, "monsieur will not do so again for the present." De Berquin took me in at a glance, and, deceived by my dress, said carelessly, "Go to the devil!" Then, turning from me to Blaise, as one turns from an inferior to an equal, he remarked: "You have a most impudent servant, monsieur!" Blaise, embarrassed by the situation, and conscious that the curious eyes of the lady and the maid were upon him, could only shrug his shoulders in reply. The maid, whom he had so much admired, turned to her mistress with a look of astonishment at his seeming indifference. Seeing this, Blaise became very red in the face. It was I who answered De Berquin, and with the words: "And your servant, if you have one, has a most impudent master." De Berquin turned pale with rage at the insulting allusion to his somewhat indigent appearance. "Your master shall answer for your impertinence!" he cried, drawing his sword and making for Blaise. In an instant my own sword was out, and I was barring his way. "Let _us_ argue the matter, monsieur!" said I. "_Peste_!" he hissed. "I fight not lackeys!" "You will fight _me_," I said, "or leave the presence of this lady at once!" Impelled by uncontrollable wrath, he thrust at me furiously. With a timely twist, I sent his sword flying from his hand to the door. I motioned him to follow it. Completely astonished, he obeyed my gesture, went and picked up his sword, opened the door, and then turned to Blaise and spoke these words, in a voice that trembled with rage: "Monsieur, since you let your menial handle your sword for you, I cannot hope for satisfaction. But though I am no great prophet, I can predict that both you and your cur shall yet feel the foot of _my_ lackey on your necks. And, mademoiselle," he added, removing his look to the lady, "this is not the end of it with you!" With which parting threats, he strode out of the inn, closing the door after him. Blaise, deprived by his false position of the power of speech, stood with frowning brow and puffed-out cheeks, nervously clutching at his sword-hilt. The lady and her maid looked at him with curiosity, as if a gentleman who would stand idly and speechlessly by, while his servant resented an insult to a lady, was a strange being, to be viewed with wonder. "Mademoiselle," said I, laying my sword on a table, "heaven is kind to me in having led me where I might have the joy of serving you." The lady, whose musical voice had the sound of sadness in it, answered with the graciousness warranted by the occasion: "My good man, your sword lifts you above your degree, even," and here she glanced at Blaise, and continued in a tone of irrepressible contempt, "as the tameness of some gentlemen lowers them beneath theirs."