"Yes, my arms are all right, but my legs are weak; and then, I have not had a foil in my hand since that devil of a duel; and you, I am sure, have been fencing every day, in order to carry your little conspiracy against me to a successful issue." "Upon my honor, monsieur," replied De Guiche, "it is six months since I last practiced." "No, comte, after due reflection, I will not fight, at least with you. I shall await Bragelonne's return, since you say that it is Bragelonne who has fault to find with me." "Oh, no, indeed!--You shall not wait until Bragelonne's return," exclaimed the comte, losing all command over himself, "for you have said that Bragelonne might, possibly, be some time before he returns; and, in the meanwhile, your wicked insinuations would have had their effect." "Yet, I shall have my excuse. So take care." "I will give you a week to finish your recovery." "That is better. So let us wait a week." "Yes, yes, I understand; a week will give time to my adversary to make his escape. No, no; I will not give you one day, even." "You are mad, monsieur," said De Wardes, retreating a step. "And you are a coward, if you do not fight willingly. Nay, what is more, I will denounce you to the king, as having refused to fight, after having insulted La Valliere." "Ah!" said De Wardes, "you are dangerously treacherous, though you pass for a man of honor." "There is nothing more dangerous than the treachery, as you term it, of the man whose conduct is always loyal and upright." "Restore me the use of my legs, then, or get yourself bled, till you are as white as I am, so as to equalize our chances." "No, no; I have something better than that to propose." "What is it?" "We will fight on horseback, and will exchange three pistol-shots each. You are a first-rate marksman. I have seen you bring down swallows with single balls, and at full gallop. Do not deny it, for I have seen you myself." "I believe you are right," said De Wardes; "and as that is the case, it is not unlikely I might kill you." "You would be rendering me a very great service, if you did." "I will do my best." "Is it agreed? Give me your hand upon it." "There it is;--but on one condition, however." "Name it." "That not a word shall be said about it to the king." "Not a word, I swear." "I shall go and get my horse, then." "And I, mine." "Where shall we meet?" "In the open plain: I know an admirable place." "Shall we go together?" "Why not?" And both of them, on their way to the stables, passed beneath Madame's windows, which were faintly lighted; a shadow could be seen behind the lace curtains. "There is a woman," said De Wardes, smiling, "who does not suspect that we are going to fight--to die, perhaps, on her account." CHAPTER XX. THE COMBAT.