“Get to your kennel, ye hounds!” cried the duke, in a terrible voice, being moved only to anger by the sight of this forlorn group of supplicants.  “I’m sure I don’t know why I have not ordered you all soundly thrashed for your imbecility and cowardice.  I shall send you my surgeon to examine your wounds, and see whether the thumps you make such a babyish outcry about really were as violent and overpowering as you represent.  If they were not, I will have you skinned alive, every mother’s son of you, like the eels at Melun; and now, begone! out of my sight, quick, you vile canaille!” The discomfited ruffians turned and fled, thankful to make their escape, and forgetful for the moment of their painful wounds and bruises; such abject terror did the young duke’s anger inspire in the breasts of those hardened villains.  When the poor devils had disappeared, Vallombreuse threw himself down on a heap of cushions, piled up on a low, broad divan beside the fire, and fell into a revery that Vidalinc was careful not to break in upon.  They evidently were not pleasant thoughts that occupied him; dark, tempestuous ones rather, judging by the expression of his handsome face, as he lay back idly among the soft pillows, looking very picturesque in the rich showy costume he still wore.  He did not remain there long.  Only a short time had elapsed when he suddenly started up, with a smothered imprecation, and bidding his friend an abrupt good-night, retired to his own chamber, without touching the dainty little supper that had just been brought in.  Vidalinc sat down and enjoyed it by himself, with perfect good humour, thinking meanwhile of Serafina’s remarkable beauty and amiability, with which he was highly charmed, and not neglecting to drink her health in the duke’s choice wine ere he quitted the table, and, following his example, retired to his own room, where he slept soundly, dreaming of Serafina, until morning; while Vallombreuse, less fortunate, and still haunted by disturbing thoughts, tossed restlessly, and turned from side to side, courting sleep in vain, under the rich silken hangings drawn round his luxurious bed.

When de Sigognac, the tyrant and Scapin reached the Armes de France, after having overcome the serious obstacles in their way, they found the others in a terrible state of alarm about them.  In the stillness of the night they had distinctly heard the loud cries of the duke’s ruffians, and the noise of the fierce combat, and feared that their poor friends were being murdered.  Isabelle, nearly frantic in her terror lest her lover should be overpowered and slain, tried to rush back to him, never remembering that she would be more of a hindrance than a help; but at the first step she had again almost fainted away, and would have fallen upon the rough pavement but for Blazius and Zerbine, who, each taking an arm, supported her between them the rest of the way to the hotel When they reached it at last, she refused to go to her own room, but waited with the others at