I was for duty next day at the Louvre, and if I did not appear---- I strove to break open the door of the oak cabinet, but it was strong and immovable as the face of a bastion. While these thoughts were passing through my mind I heard a voice singing the burden of the old provincial song,-- 'Vive le tils d'Harlette, Normands, Vive le fils d'Harlette!' and two cavaliers richly dressed, and each armed with sword and dagger, and a pair of handsome pistols suspended by silver hooks from their belts, entered laughing, and evidently bent on a frolic. In one I recognized the Chevalier d'Ische. He was still pale from the effects of his wound. The other, I had no doubt, was his companion on that night of the brawl about the girl Nicola in the Place de la Grève. 'Prince, are your pistols loaded?' asked the Chevalier. 'Mordieu! I should think so. But why?' 'Dost see the carved face on the door of that old worm-eaten cabinet?' 'A satyr's head among leaves--yes.' ''Tis just where a man's breast would be.' 'Well?' 'Ten louis to a denier you don't hit it, Prince.' 'Done! But how if the shot is heard?' 'Diable! what do I care?' 'But the Countess's antique cabinet!' ''Tis only an old wooden box at best.' 'But the Countess--' 'Tush!' 'What will she say?' 'Say--morbleu, M. le Prince--what she pleases. Will you fire?' 'Peste! since you will have it so,' muttered the other, drawing a pistol from his girdle. 'You fear my challenge?' 'Tudieu! Chevalier, I fear nothing!' The reader may imagine my sensations during this challenge to a trial of skill. I remembered the story Raynold Cheyne and the Chevalier Livingstone had told me, of our Marechal de Logis shooting a man in the boot of the queen's carriage, at the Hotel de Sens; and though my soul seemed to tremble within me, at the sudden prospect of death, true to the spirit of honour and of the age, I held my breath, and while my heart forgot to beat, I resolved to die rather than speak, or disgrace the Countess by uttering a sound. The Prince cocked and levelled his pistol. The Chevalier uttered a loud laugh, arrested his arm, and springing forward, unlocked and opened the door of the cabinet, saying, 'Come forth, M. Blane--by Jupiter, how pale you look!' 'Morbleu! but you are a gallant fellow!' exclaimed he (who was styled Prince), with astonishment; 'I knew not that there was any one within.' 'He is brave as Bayard! I knew of it, and did this but to test his courage.' 'How knew you that I was in the cabinet, Chevalier?' I asked, leaping out. 'Nicola, the Countess's attendant--' 'She with the beautiful hair?' said I. 'Ah--thou hast observed that!' said the Prince, knitting his brows. 'How could I fail to do so? Well, and the pretty Mademoiselle Nicola--'