"But that is what you have done, count, failing to perceive that the lady was laughing at you, and that she joyfully grasped the opportunity to give you a lesson which you deserve." "Enough, marquis, enough! I take lessons from no one!" "You prefer a sword thrust, then?" "I venture to believe that you came here to find me, monsieur le marquis, with the intention of making use of your sword." "You are not in error." "Let us talk no longer, then!" "Holà! Joseph! attend us with the light!" The valet drew near with his lantern and leaned against a pillar. The two gentlemen had already tossed aside their cloaks; they speedily unsheathed their swords, and, taking their places within two yards of the light, began to attack each other with great impetuosity. Léodgard was stirred to frenzy by his anger at having been made a plaything by Valentine; in the case of the marquis, the desire to be revenged upon a man who had attempted to dishonor him was sufficient to strengthen his arm and inflame his blood. The marquis, however, was more self-controlled; he fought more prudently than his adversary. Léodgard, enraged to find himself opposed by a man whose skill equalled his own, hurried his blows as if he were in haste to conclude; and as he lunged to deal a terrible thrust at the marquis, the latter's sword entered his breast and passed through his body. Léodgard fell to the ground without a cry. The valet held his lantern so that he could see the wound, from which the blood poured forth in a stream, and said to his master, who tranquilly wiped his sword and resumed his cloak: "Oh! monsieur, I do not think that the gentleman will recover. Such a wound! and fair in the breast! That was a mighty thrust he received!--What shall we do with the gentleman?" "Blockhead! to suppose that I intend to pay any heed to the fellow!--We have nothing more to do here. Go before and light me!" XLVII THE WOUNDED MAN Let us return now to Bathilde, the sweet and charming countess, the loving mother, whom events have compelled us to neglect for some time, but whom it would be impossible to forget; for sweetness of disposition, when combined with beauty, is a talisman which never loses its power. When Ambroisine, on returning from Place Royale, where she had seen Léodgard embrace his daughter, entered Bathilde's room with the child, her friend divined from her radiant face that some fortunate event had occurred; and rising from the reclining chair on which she was stretched, she held out her arms to Blanche and cried: "What has happened? What brings you back so soon?--Ambroisine, I see in your eyes that you are happy. May I not share your happiness?" "Oh! yes, indeed! Our reason for returning so soon was that you might enjoy it the sooner. But first of all take your child on your knees, and kiss her; the dear little angel--it is she who is the cause--it is she who---- Mon Dieu! I am so glad--so glad, that I can't speak--it suffocates me!"