'To the Bastille--for a duel!' we all exclaimed, indignantly. 'Yes--but it was fought within the precincts of the Palais Royale.' 'Zounds!' said Raynold Cheyne, twisting his fierce moustache, 'in the days of Henry the Great, we might have fought in his bed-chamber, and I am sure the brave Bearnais would have enjoyed the sport.' 'And what was the duel about?' I asked. 'Oh! the old story--a girl--a fleuriste on the Pont de Notre Dame.' 'And the chevalier was killed?' 'Run right through the body,' replied Gordon; 'and the Cardinal, at the instance of Marion, whose lover M. le Chevalier had formerly been, sent his Lordship to the Bastille.' 'Too bad this!' exclaimed the Viscount; 'my Lord Teviot could not help this sprig of a chevalier not being immortal. But why has a Cardinal all this power?' 'Because he is a minister, and since the days of Henry IV. France has always been governed by ministers or--their mistresses.' Sir Quentin Home whose circumstances had been somewhat desperate since he killed the English captain at Berwick, now proposed cards. 'Let us play, gentlemen,' said he; 'Blane, we will draw lots for partners.' 'Nay, Sir Quentin,' said I; 'I beg to be excused, having only ten louis.' 'The devil thou hast? I have only two in the world.' 'Then, why play?' 'For that very reason,' said he. 'But you may lose.' 'But I may win.' 'Thank you--but I would rather be excused.' Sir Quentin frowned and pushed aside his glass. 'Never mind, Ravendean,' said the jolly Marechal de Logis; 'all the world are going to fight the Emperor and the Duke of Lorraine; and we shall have rare pickings and plenty of prize-money, when we march through Alsace and bend our cannon on the Rhine. Long ere that day comes to pass, Sir Quentin, thy two louis may have become twenty thousand. Now, gentlemen, a glass of right Rhenish all round, and then M-e shall adjourn to the Comedie Française, and see all those beauties we have been talking about--yes, see them in all the bloom of beauty, rouge and patches, brocade and cloth of gold.' From the Fleur-de-lis we went after dusk to the Hotel de Bourgogne, where plays had been acted since 1548, and where we saw a tragedy by Scuderi, about heaven knows what, but every one was killed in the last scene, to the entire satisfaction of the audience. After a petty brawl with the watch, and singing a chorus under the windows of Marion de l'Orme, we all repaired to our quarters in the Louvre. And thus, at midnight, closed the first day I spent with my wild and fiery comrades of the Garde du Corps Ecossais. CHAPTER X. THE SCOTS IN FRANCE. I was now fairly one of the hundred cuirassiers of that Scottish Guard, whose name is inseparably connected with the ancient royalty and military history of France, and who formed the right hand of her kings in many a day of battle.