"I cannot deny it," answered the chevalier, half dead with fright, "however, circumstances--" "Wretch!" cried Urbain, "you are the cause of all my suffering, defend yourself. The first act of my vengeance shall be your death." While travelling, Urbain carried a sword; he drew his weapon from the scabbard and advanced towards Chaudoreille, but the words, "by your death," and the sight of the naked sword put new strength into the legs of the little man. Abandoning the cloak which impeded his flight, he ran with all his might, pursued by Urbain, who still threatened him with his sword; while the barber, mounting Chaudoreille's horse, went at full gallop to the chateau. The chevalier, who imagined that he felt the point of Urbain's sword pricking his back, redoubled his speed; but Urbain, animated by a desire for vengeance, had very nearly caught up to him, and was not more than twenty paces behind him when they entered the village. This flying man, pursued by another with a sword in his hand, attracted everyone's attention. "Out of the way! out of the way!" cried Chaudoreille to the crowd, while Urbain shouted,-- "Stop that wretch." The innkeeper who was at his door said,-- "Why, that's Monsieur Malek-Al-Chiras, castanet teacher. What can he have done with his Arabian steed?" The fugitive entered the first door that he found open, which was one in the house of an old dowager. Chaudoreille mounted the staircase; arrived at the first floor he perceived a key in a door, he entered precipitantly, carefully taking the key with him and locking it after him. At the same instant, a voice cried,-- "Monsieur, what are you doing here? Nobody can come in, I am not visible." It was the dowager, who was dressing at the moment when the chevalier, entered her chamber, desperate. Chaudoreille did not answer, he heard nothing but Urbain's steps. "Monsieur, I am making my toilet." "Make anything you please," said he at last, "I shall scarcely worry myself about it." "Leave this room, monsieur." "Me, leave the room? By jingo! I'll take very good care not to do that. Do you wish me to go to my death? I'm pursued by a man who absolutely wishes to fight with me." "Well, then, fight. Can't you defend yourself?" "I can only defend myself when I am not attacked." "What use is your sword then, monsieur?" "That does not matter to you. Ah, zounds! I hear him." In fact, Urbain had discovered Chaudoreille's retreat. He knocked at the door and ordered him to open. "Answer that there is nobody here," said Chaudoreille to the dowager, "you will save the life of the most amiable man in Europe." The old woman answered on the contrary,-- "He is here, but he has locked himself up with me and he has taken the key." "Oh, well, one can break in the door," said Urbain, "if this wretch refuses to open it."