I shall not forget that morning as long as I have life in my body. At the first sight of the three men I drew my dagger. Charles had nothing but his bare hands. But the fellows were scarcely across the threshold and were reaching out for us, when he caught the foremost of them a stinging blow on the point of the jaw. In the first moment we had an advantage, for their eyes were not yet grown accustomed to the dimness of the room. The man reeled, then gathered himself together. He had a knife in his hand. As he raised it Charles seized him by the wrist and the two stumbled and staggered over the pieces of the broken door like two men wrestling for an opportunity to drive home a telling blow. My hands were then full, for I had the bigger and stronger man to face—Pierre who had been my captor during the days when we wandered along the highway with the army of the King. A flash of sullen hate came into his eyes as soon as he saw me. To make it all the worse the sight of his clothes upon me (which he recognized at once) stirred him as deeply as if I had flaunted him with open mockery. He forgot the dagger which he had drawn from his shirt. With one hand he reached out to grasp me by the throat. I jumped to one side. He came lunging forward, swaying with his big shoulders like a log upon a stormy sea. I knew him from my former experience. He was powerful. There was a savage twist to his mind that was hard to equal. But even at that I was more than a match for him in agility and speed. My one thought, then, was to keep out of his reach and to battle him till he was out of wind. I could last longer than he. If nothing else came between, I could wear him down and finally get the upper hand. The faster he came at me, just so much the faster did I dodge. While Charles and his man were struggling at the door we had made our way almost to the middle of the room. I had a double care. I had to keep one eye on him. I had to watch my step in falling back lest I stumble over an object on the floor. At length I had my back to the table, and was sliding slowly along the edge. Pierre made a grab once more at my coat. I sprang away. He missed. So hard did he come at me that he bumped his legs against the edge and in trying to steady himself knocked his elbows on the hard wood. I saw him wince, and laughed. It was a laugh that cut him to the bone. He uttered a few words under his breath and gritted his teeth. He worked his hands, closing and opening them, as though he already felt my throat in his grip. He lowered at me with his brows drawn down and started at me, slowly measuring me with his eyes. I backed off little by little, keeping step with him. I rounded the end of the table. I danced and sprang lightly now to one side now to the other. He never wavered nor took his eyes off me. He laid his hands flat on the table and worked his way after me around the edge. His steps were like a cat’s, stealthy and slow, but I knew he was getting ready for a leap.