As I rose, Yeux-gris turned his head toward me. Only for a second, but in that second Lucas pinked his shoulder. I dashed between them; they lowered their points. "First blood for me!" cried Lucas. "That serves for to-day, M. le Comte. I regret that I cannot wait to kill you, but that will come. It is necessary that I go before M. le Duc arrives. Clear the way." M. le Comte stood his ground, barring the alley. They glared at each other motionless. Grammont had raised himself to his knees and was trying painfully to get on his feet. "A hand, Lucas," he gasped. Lucas gave him a startled glance but neither went nor spoke to him. "I am not much hurt," said Grammont, huskily. Holding by the wall, he clambered up on his feet. He swayed, reeled forward, and clutched Lucas's arm. "Lucas, Lucas, help me! Draw out the knife. I cannot. I shall be myself when the knife is out. Lucas, for God's sake!" "You will die when the knife is out," said Lucas, wrenching himself free. He turned again to M. le Comte, and his eyes gleamed as he saw the blood trickling down his sleeve and the sword tremble in his hand. "Come on, then," he cried to Yeux-gris. But I sprang forward and seized the sword from M. le Comte's hand. "On guard!" I shouted, and we went to work. I could handle a sword as well as the next one. M. le Duc had taught me in his idle days at St. Quentin. It served me well now, and him, too. The light was fading in the narrow court. Our blades shone white in the twilight as the weapons clashed in and out. I saw, without looking, Grammont leaning against the wall, his gory face ashen, and Yeux-gris watching me with all his soul, now and then shouting a word of advice. I had had good training, and I fought for all there was in me. Yet I was a boy not come to my full strength, and Lucas was more than my match. He drove me back farther and farther toward the house-wall. Of a sudden I slipped in a smear of blood ('tis no lying excuse, I did slip) and lost my guard. He ran his blade into my shoulder, as he had done with Yeux-gris. He would likely have finished me had not a cry from Grammont shaken him. "The duke!" In truth, a deepening noise of hoofs and shouts came down the alley from the street. Lucas looked at me, who had regained my guard and stood, little hurt, between him and M. le Comte. He could not push past me into the house and so through to the other street. He made for the alley, crying out: "Au revoir, messieurs! We shall meet again." Grammont seized him. "Help me, Lucas, for the love of Christ! Don't leave me, Lucas!" Lucas beat him off with the sword. "Every man for himself!" he cried, and sprang down the alley.