“I fear that may not be, Monsieur,” he said gravely. “Our way is not your way, as you will soon know for yourself. But, at least, I can give you a friend in place of the one you have lost here in our service.” He signed to Claire, and she ran to an adjoining room, returning in a moment with a sword in a scabbard of stout leather. “Gird him,” he said. She came to me shyly, and taking the old scabbard from my belt, clasped the new one there. I trembled at the touch of her fingers, and gripped my hands behind me to keep my arms from about her. I could see the red blood surging in waves over cheek and neck as I looked down at her, but only when she had finished the task did she lift her eyes to mine for an instant. What eyes they were--dark, lustrous, with the white soul looking out! “Draw your blade,” commanded the other. As I obeyed and its polished sides caught the firelight I saw it was no ordinary weapon. “Test it,” he said. [Illustration: She came to me shyly] I bent it to left and right. It gave in my hands like some living thing. “’Twill take a stout coat of mail to turn it aside,” he said. “’Tis a Toledo.” I flushed with joy at possessing such a treasure and tried to stammer my thanks, but he cut me off. “There, there,” he said, not unkindly. “Keep your thanks. I doubt you will soon find you have little enough cause for gratitude. But ’tis the utmost I can do for you, for ’tis very unlike we shall ever meet again.” “But your name,” I stammered. “Surely I may know your name.” He hesitated a moment, then shook his head impatiently, as though casting some weakness from him. “My name is of small moment,” he said. “You may call me Duval. That will serve as well as any other.” “But, Monsieur,” I protested, “I hope to see you many times again--you and Mademoiselle,” and I stole a glance at her, but her eyes were fixed on the floor. Duval came to me and took my hand. “Believe me, M. de Marsan,” he said earnestly, “I honor you and value your friendship highly, but for your own sake you must not meet us again. Indeed, ’twill do you little good to try, since by to-morrow we shall be far from here, in a country it were death for you to penetrate.” I gazed at him, too astonished to reply. “I will ask you one more favor,” he added. “Will you assist me in carrying yonder fellow to the bed? We must give him a chance, if he hath a spark of life left in him.” “Willingly,” I answered, and between us we raised the man, who lay where he had fallen, and stretched him on the couch. He gave no sign of life and I thought him done for, but when the doublet was stripped from his breast I saw that the blood was still slowly oozing from the wound which my sword had made. Duval hesitated an instant and then lifted the mask from his face. I had never seen the man before, but he had a strong, bold countenance, with something of rough power in it.