“That miserable play-actor, my lord,” Merindol replied, plucking up a little courage, “far exceeds in vigour and bravery the great Hercules they tell us of.  He fell upon us with such fury that in one instant he had knocked Azolan and Basque down into the gutter.  They fell under his blows like pasteboard puppets—­yet they are both strong men, and used to hard knocks.  Labriche was tripped up and cleverly thrown by another actor, and fell with such force that he was completely stunned; the back of his head has found out that the stones of Poitiers pavements are harder than it is, poor fellow!  As for me, my thick club was broken short off by an immense stick in the hands of that giant they call Herode, and my shoulder so badly hurt that I sha’n’t have the use of my arm here for a fortnight.”

“You are no better than so many calves, you pitiful, cowardly knaves!” cried the Duke of Vallombreuse, in a perfect frenzy of rage.  “Why, any old woman could put you to rout with her distaff, and not half try.  I made a horrid mistake when I rescued you from the galleys and the gallows, and took you into my service, believing that you were brave rascals, and not afraid of anything or anybody on the face of the globe.  And now, answer me this:  When you found that clubs would not do, why didn’t you whip out your swords and have at him?”

“My lord had given us orders for a beating, not an assassination, and we would not have dared to go beyond his commands.”

“Behold,” cried Vidalinc, laughing contemptuously, “behold a faithful, exact and conscientious scoundrel whose obedience does not deviate so much as a hair’s breadth from his lord’s commands.  How delightful and refreshing to find such purity and fidelity, combined with such rare courage, in the character of a professional cut-throat!  But now, Vallombreuse, what do you think of all this?  This chase of yours opens well, and romantically, in a manner that must be immensely pleasing to you, since you find the pursuit agreeable in proportion to its difficulty, and the obstacles in the way constitute its greatest charms for you.  I ought to congratulate you, it seems to me.  This Isabelle, for an actress, is not easy of access; she dwells in a fortress, without drawbridge or other means of entrance, and guarded, as we read of in the history of ancient chivalry, by dragons breathing out flames of fire and smoke.  But here comes our routed army.”

Azolan, Basque, and Labriche, who had recovered from his swoon, now presented themselves reluctantly at the door, and stood extending their hands supplicatingly towards their master.  They were a miserable-looking set of wretches enough—­very pale, fairly livid indeed, haggard, dirty and blood-stained; for although they had only contused wounds, the force of the blows had set the blood flowing from their noses, and great red stains disfigured their hideous countenances.