At once he sobered with suspicious suddenness if I had had the sense to reflect upon it, and gave me his name and direction as one George Bonnat, of the Marine. “Monsieur will do me the honour of a meeting behind the Auberge Cassard after _petit dejeuner_ to-morrow,” said he, and named a friend. It was the first time I was ever challenged. It should have rung in the skull of me like an alarm, but I cannot recall at this date that my heart beat a stroke the faster, or that the invitation vexed me more than if it had been one to the share of a bottle of wine. “It seems a pretty ceremony about a cursed impertinence on the part of a man in liquor,” I said, “but I'm ready to meet you either before or after petit déjeuner, as it best suits you, and my name's Greig, by your leave.” “Very well, Monsieur Greig,” said he; “except that you stupidly impede the pavement and talk French like a Spanish cow (_comme une vache espagnole_), you seem a gentleman of much accommodation. Eight o'clock then, behind the _auberge_,” and off went Sir Ruffler, singularly straight and business-like, with a profound _congé_ for the unfortunate wretch he planned to thrust a spit through in the morning. I went home at once, to find Thurot and Clancarty at lansquenet. They were as elate at my story as if I had been asked to dine with Louis. “Gad, 'tis an Occasion!” cried my lord, and helped himself, as usual, with a charming sentiment: “_A demain les affaires sérieuses_; to-night we'll pledge our friend!” Thurot evinced a flattering certainty of my ability to break down M. Bonnat's guard in little or no time. “A crab, this Bonnat,” said he. “Why he should pick a quarrel with you I cannot conceive, for 'tis well known the man is M. Albany's creature. But, no matter, we shall tickle his ribs, M. Paul. _Ma foi!_ here's better gaming than your pestilent cards. I'd have every man in the kingdom find an affair for himself once a month to keep his spleen in order.” “This one's like to put mine very much out of order with his iron,” I said, a little ruefully recalling my last affair. “What!” cried Thurot, “after all my lessons! And this Bonnat a crab too! Fie! M. Paul. And what an he pricks a little? a man's the better for some iron in his system now and then. Come, come, pass down these foils, my lord, and I shall supple the arms of our Paul.”