"I see," said the Spaniard, suddenly downcast, "that I am in disgrace with you, and I recognize in this, as in everything else, the effect of my ill luck. It is so persistent that there have been many times when I have thought of yielding to it as victor in a battle in which I find naught save discomfort and discomfiture." There was much truth in what D'Alvimar had said; and as, after he had instinctively wiped his dagger, he seemed to hesitate to replace it in its sheath, Lauriane, impressed by the sinister gleam in his eye, concluded that he was a little mad, as the result of some great misfortune, and inclined to take his own life. "If I am to forgive you," she said, "I demand that you hand me the weapon of which you have just made such an unworthy use. I do not like that treacherous blade, which French gentlemen no longer carry, except when hunting. The sword is enough for a true knight, and one should take time for reflection before unsheathing it in a lady's presence. I should always be afraid of a man who conceals about his person a weapon so easy to handle and so prompt to kill; and as this one does not seem to be of great value, I ask you to sacrifice it to me, by way of reparation for the pain you have caused me." D'Alvimar thought that in thus disarming him she intended to caress him. Nevertheless, it cost him a pang to part with so trusty a weapon, and he hesitated. "I see," said Lauriane, "that it is a gift from some fair dame whom you are not at liberty to disobey." "If you have any such thought as that," he retorted, "I will very quickly disabuse you of it." And, kneeling on one knee, he handed her the poniard. "It is well," she said, withdrawing her hand, which he tried to kiss. "I forgive you, as a guest whom I do not desire to humiliate; but that is all, I assure you; and as for this wretched blade, if I keep it, I do so not for love of you, but to prevent the evil that it might do." They were then at the foot of the donjon, where they met the marquis and Monsieur de Beuvre, engaged in earnest conversation. Lauriane was about to tell them what had happened, but her father did not give her time. "Look you, my dearest daughter," he said, taking her hand and putting it through the marquis's arm; "our friend wishes to tell you a secret, and while he is telling it, I will do my best to entertain Monsieur de Villareal. You see," he added, addressing Monsieur de Bois-Doré, "I entrust my lamb to you without fear of your sharp teeth, and I say nothing to her to lower you in her estimation! Speak to her therefore as you choose. If you are burned, I wash my hands of it, it will be of your own seeking." "I see," said Madame de Beuvre to the marquis, "that you have some request to make." And as she supposed that it referred, as usual, to some hunting party on his estates, she added that, whatever it might be, she granted it beforehand.