“I shall cut a sorry figure enough now in the eyes of the fair Isabelle,” said he at last, with a forced laugh, “with my arm here run through and rendered useless by the sword of her devoted gallant.  Cupid, weak and disabled, never did find much favour with the Graces, you know.  But oh! how charming and adorable she seems to me, this sweet, disdainful Isabelle!  I am actually almost grateful to her for resisting me so; for, if she had yielded, I should have been tired of her by this time, I fancy.  Her nature certainly cannot be a base, ordinary one, or she would never have refused thus the advances of a wealthy and powerful nobleman, who is ready to lavish upon her everything that heart could desire, and whose own personal attractions are not to be despised; if the universal verdict of the fair sex of all ranks can be relied upon.  There is a certain respect and esteem mingled with my passionate admiration for her, that I have never felt before for any woman, and it is very sweet to me.  But how in the world are we to get rid of this confounded young sprig of nobility, her self-constituted champion?  May the devil fly away with him!”

“It will not be an easy matter,” the chevalier replied, and especially now that he is upon his guard.  “But even if you did succeed in getting rid of him, Isabelle’s love for him would still be in your way, and you ought to know, better than most men, how obstinate a woman can be in her devoted attachment to a man.”

“Oh! if I could only kill this miserable baron,” continued Vallombreuse, not at all impressed by the chevalier’s last remark, “I could soon win the favour of this virtuous young person, in spite of all her little prudish airs and graces.  Nothing is so quickly forgotten as a defunct suitor.”

These were by no means the chevalier’s sentiments, but he refrained from pursuing the subject then, wishing to soothe, rather than irritate, his suffering friend.

“You must first get well as fast as you can,” he said, “and it will be time enough then for us to discuss the matter.  All this talking wearies you, and does you no good.  Try to get a little nap now, and not excite yourself so.  The surgeon will tax me with imprudence, and call me a bad nurse, I’m afraid, if I don’t manage to keep you more quiet—­mentally as well as physically.”

His patient, yielding with rather an ill grace to this sensible advice, sank back wearily upon his pillows, closed his eyes, and soon fell asleep—­where we will leave him, enjoying his much needed repose.

Meantime the Marquis de Bruyeres and de Sigognac had quietly returned to their hotel, where, like well-bred gentlemen, they did not breathe even a hint of what had taken place.  But walls have ears they say, and eyes as well it would appear, for they certainly see as much as they ever hear.  In the neighbourhood of the apparently solitary, deserted spot where the duel had taken place, more than one inquisitive, hidden