from any man, so was but natural that for answer I caught the dainty Vicomte a buffet that knocked him into the arms of the nearest bystander, and brought him to his senses.     

       “Fool,” I snarled at him, “must I make another example before you believe that Gaston de Luynes wears a sword?”      

       “In the name of Heaven—” he began, putting forth his hands in a beseeching gesture; but what more he said was drowned by the roar of anger that burst from the onlookers, and it was like to have gone ill with me had not St. Auban come to my aid at that most critical juncture.     

       “Messieurs!” he cried, thrusting himself before me, and raising his hand to crave silence, “hear me. I, a friend of M. de Canaples, tell you that you wrong M. de Luynes. 'T was a fair fight—how the quarrel arose is no concern of yours.”      

       Despite his words they still snarled and growled like the misbegotten curs they were. But St. Auban was famous for the regal supper parties he gave, to which all were eager to be bidden, and amidst that crowd, as I have said, there were a score or so of gentlemen of the Court, who—with scant regard for the right or wrong of the case and every regard to conciliate this giver of suppers—came to range themselves beside and around us, and thus protected me from the murderous designs of that rabble.     

       Seeing how the gentlemen took my part, and deeming—in their blessed ignorance—that what gentlemen did must be perforce well done, they grew calm in the twinkling of an eye. Thereupon St. Auban, turning to me, counselled me in a whisper to be gone, whilst the tide of opinion flowed in my favour. Intent to act upon this good advice, I took a step towards the little knot that had collected round Canaples, and with natural curiosity inquired into the nature of his hurt.     

       'T was Montmédy who answered me, scowling as he did so:     

       “He may die of it, Monsieur. If he does not, his recovery will be at least slow and difficult.”      

       I had been wise had I held my peace and gone; but, like a fool, I must needs give utterance to what was in my mind.     

       “Ah! At least there will be no duel at St. Germain this evening.”    

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