As she spoke, Frédérique laid her foil across Fouvenard's face, leaving a red mark which seemed to cut it in two. The bearded man flew into a rage; he seized the weapon she offered him, exclaiming: "I no longer recognize your sex, and I will not spare you." "And I will avenge my sex, and poor Mignonne!" At the name of Mignonne, Fouvenard turned pale; but he prepared for the combat. Balloquet proposed to the little man that they should imitate us; he declined, saying that he considered it ridiculous for seconds to fight. When I saw Frédérique cross swords with Fouvenard, I shuddered; I trembled for her safety. "Come on, monsieur," said Saint-Bergame; "I didn't come here to admire madame's prowess; on guard!" His words recalled me to myself. We began to fight. Saint-Bergame attacked me with violence. While defending myself, I listened to the other combatants. I fancied that Fouvenard uttered a cry of triumph. My adversary made the most of my distraction; I received a thrust which passed through the upper part of my left arm. That wound irritated, exasperated me; I attacked Saint-Bergame fiercely, and he soon fell at my feet; my sword had entered his breast. I turned and looked for Frédérique. She had not been fighting for some time; in a few seconds, she had knocked Fouvenard's sword from his hand and wounded him in the side. He fell on the turf, and although his wound was trifling he had declined to fight any more. The little man went to call one of the cabs. Balloquet assisted in placing Saint-Bergame inside, and he was so seriously wounded that the young doctor thought it best to accompany him and his seconds. I returned to Paris alone with Frédérique, who twisted a handkerchief round my arm and begged Balloquet to come to us as soon as possible. In the cab, she put her arm around my neck, and insisted that I should rest my head on her shoulder. She gazed at me, gazed at me incessantly. Dear Frédérique! it seemed to me that we loved each other all the more dearly from having just escaped a great danger. When we reached my lodgings, we found no one there but Pomponne, who wept when he saw that I was wounded. I had much difficulty in making him understand that it amounted to nothing. I lay on a couch; Frédérique seated herself beside me and made lint, expressing surprise at Mignonne's absence; for she relied upon her to nurse me zealously when she should be obliged to leave me. In about three-quarters of an hour Balloquet arrived. "Monsieur Saint-Bergame is in for a long siege," he said, "if he escapes at all. He has his own surgeon, so I left him. As for Fouvenard, he will be all right in a fortnight; but what irritates him most is that blow across the face with the flat of the foil. That was so well laid on, that it is probable that our seducer will carry the mark of it all his life. _Fichtre!_ madame, there's some strength in your hand!" "Now, Monsieur Balloquet, please examine Charles."