Isabelle meanwhile could not close her eyes, because of her anxiety about the young baron.  She knew that he would not allow the matter to rest where it was, and she dreaded inexpressibly the consequences of a quarrel with the duke; but the idea of endeavouring to prevent a duel never even occurred to her.  In those days affairs of honour were regarded as sacred things, that women did not dream of interfering with, or rendering more trying to their near and dear ones by tears and lamentations, in anticipation of the danger to be incurred by them.

At nine o’clock the next morning, the Marquis de Bruyeres was astir, and went to look up de Sigognae, whom he found in his own room, in order to regulate with him the conditions of the duel.  The baron asked him to take with him, in case of incredulity, or refusal of his challenge, on the duke’s part, the old deeds and ancient parchments, to which large seals were suspended, the commissions of various sorts with royal signatures in faded ink, the genealogical tree of the de Sigognacs, and in fact all his credentials, which he had brought away from the chateau with him as his most precious treasures; for they were indisputable witnesses to the nobility and antiquity of his house.  These valuable documents, with their strange old Gothic characters, scarcely decipherable save by experts, were carefully wrapped up in a piece of faded crimson silk, which looked as if it might have been part of the very banner borne by Palamede de Sigognac at the head of his hundred followers in the first crusade.

“I do not believe,” said the marquis, “that these credentials will be necessary; my word should be sufficient; it has never yet been doubted.  However, as it is possible that this hot-headed young duke may persist in recognising only Captain Fracasse in your person, I will let my servant accompany me and carry them for me to his house, in case I should deem it best to produce them.”

“You must do whatever you think proper and right,” de Sigognac answered; “I have implicit confidence in your judgment, and leave my honour in your hands, without a condition or reservation.”

“It will be safe with me, I do solemnly assure you,” said the Marquis de Bruyeres earnestly, “and we will have satisfaction yet from this proud young nobleman, whose excessive insolence and outrageously imperious ways are more than a little offensive to me, as well as to many others.  He is no better than the rest of us, whose blood is as ancient and noble as his own, nor does his ducal coronet entitle him to the superiority he arrogates to himself so disagreeably.  But we won’t talk any more about it—­we must act now.  Words are feminine, but actions are masculine, and offended honour can only be appeased with blood, as the old saying has it.”