"No, I accept!" and De Berniers, who was not so tipsy but that he could plainly see De Montalvan was more so, wore upon his face what by one who was acquainted with him would have been understood as an air of triumph, but to a casual observer would convey no direct idea of any kind. M. de Montalvan rose and advanced, hat in hand. "Pardon me, Monsieur," he began, "I have a few observations to address to you. It is a singular spectacle to behold a man of your health and vigor, and especially of your size, compelling a poor wretch like this to drag you through the streets in the midsummer heat." "It is more singular, Monsieur, that you should venture to address me in this manner," said the stranger, and he directed his attendant to move forward. "No, Monsieur," said De Montalvan, placing himself in the way, "that is out of the question. I feel it my duty to object to your making use of a _brouette_ on such a day as this." "Ah, you object!" "Most decidedly. In fact I will not allow it." The stranger sprang with alacrity upon the sidewalk, and, drawing his sword, advanced upon his persecutor. "We shall see," he said, grimly. "As you please, Monsieur," said De Montalvan, putting himself on guard. But, as may be supposed, the soldier's hand was unsteady, and his eye uncertain. After a few rapid passes, he let fall his right arm, which had been sharply punctured above the elbow. M. de Berniers absolutely cackled with delight. "Now, Monsieur," said the stout stranger, "you will probably suffer me to traverse the streets in the manner that best suits me." "Pardon me again," responded De Montalvan; "you have fairly wounded me, but I am sure you are too gallant a gentleman to deprive a bleeding adversary of the most convenient means of reaching his home";--with which he quietly stepped into the _brouette_ and was wheeled away, while the stranger gazed after him in stupefaction. De Berniers would have gnashed his teeth, but that he had not yet recovered from the exertion of his previous cackle. For a week thenceforth he was the sport of Paris, and, to complete his disgust, the adventure was circulated by the celebrated _raconteur_, M. de Lugeac, in the _salons_ of the Dauphine and elsewhere, with embellishments by no means favorable to his reputation as a _bel esprit_. * * * * *