“That is it,” said Chicot, “and for greater certainty, I was to give you something in exchange, was I not?”

“A receipt.”—­“Yes.”

“Monsieur,” continued Ernanton, “I was told to carry it, but this gentleman was to deliver it.”  And he handed the letter to St. Maline, who gave it to Chicot.

“You see,” said Ernanton, “that we have faithfully fulfilled our mission.  There is no one here, and no one has seen us give you the letter.”

“It is true, gentlemen; but to whom am I to give the receipt?”

“The king did not say,” said St. Maline, with a meaning air.

“Write two, monsieur, and give one to each of us.  It is far from this to the Louvre, and some misfortune may happen to one of us on the road,” and as he spoke, Ernanton’s eyes flashed in their turn.

“You are wise,” said Chicot, drawing his tablets from his pocket, from which he tore out two pages and wrote on each, “Received from the hands of St. Maline the letter brought by M. Ernanton de Carmainges.—­The shade.”

“Adieu, monsieur,” said St. Maline, taking his.

“Adieu, monsieur, and a pleasant journey to you,” added Ernanton.  “Have you anything else to send to the Louvre?”

“Nothing, I thank you.”

Then the young men set off toward Paris, and Chicot in the opposite direction.  When he was out of sight—­

“Now, monsieur,” said Ernanton to St. Maline, “dismount, if you please.”

“And why so?”

“Our task is accomplished; we have now to converse, and this place appears excellent for an explanation of this sort.”

“As you please, monsieur;” and they got off their horses.

Then Ernanton said, “You know, monsieur, that without any cause on my part, you have during the whole journey insulted me grievously.  You wished to make me fight at an inopportune time, and I refused; but now the time is good and I am your man.”

But St. Maline was angry no longer, and did not wish to fight.

“Monsieur,” replied he, “when I insulted you, you responded by rendering me a service.  I can no longer hold the language I did just now.”

“No; but you think the same.”

“How do you know?”

“Because your words were dictated by hatred and envy, and they cannot already be extinct in your heart.”

St. Maline colored, but did not reply.

Ernanton continued, “If the king preferred me to you, it was because I pleased him best.  If I was not thrown into the Bievre like you, it was because I ride better; if I did not accept your challenge before, it was because I was wiser than you; if I was not bitten by the dog, it was because I had more sagacity; if I now summon you to draw your sword, it is because I have more honor; and if you hesitate, I shall say more courage.”

St. Maline looked like a demon, and drew his sword furiously.

“I have fought eleven times,” said he, “and two of my adversaries are dead.  Are you aware of that, monsieur?”