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To be in the thick of such a brawl, to be fighting side by side with the best swordsman in all France against what might well be considered overwhelming odds, and to be working havoc and disaster among his antagonists, stirred Lagardere's blood more blithely than ripe wine.
Nevers delivered his thrust at Æsop, and for the second time that day the hunchback felt the prick of steel between his eyes and saved himself by springing backward, his blood's fire suddenly turned to ice. Lagardere's sword was like a living fire. "Look out, Staupitz! Take that, Pepe!" he cried, and wounded both men.
The whimsicality of the adventure began to tickle Lagardere's fancy. He seemed to be destined to play many parts that night. A few minutes back he had masqueraded as a bravo to deceive the mysterious shadows. Then he had pretended to be a husband to deceive the Duchess de Nevers. Now he imitated a nurse in order that Nevers's child might sleep soundly.
Then the full meaning of it seemed to fall upon him like a blow, and his face blazed at the insult. "Nevers! You! Ah, this is an ambuscade, and I have sat at drink with assassins!" Cocardasse protested: "Come, captain, come." Lagardere's only answer was to spring back clear of the nearest swordsmen and to draw his sword again.
While the bravos tried not to appear annoyed by Lagardere's banter, which, indeed, in its simplicity vexed their simple natures greatly, the page rose to his feet and whispered softly to his rescuer, "I have a letter for you from the Duke de Nevers." Lagardere extended his hand. "Give it," he said.
The morning air was clear and even; the sun's height caused no diverting rays to disturb either adversary; the grass was smooth and supple to the feet; there was ample ground to break in all directions. The moment that Lagardere's steel touched that of Æsop's, he knew that Æsop's boast had not been made in vain.
This quiet, this isolation, were very welcome to his temper just then, for the purpose that had come into Lagardere's mind at the commencement of the combat had matured, had ripened during its course into a feasible plan.
But I think he will be with you soon." The indisposition of Peyrolles did not seem to affect his master very profoundly. What, indeed, did it matter at such a moment to a man who knew that his great enemy was harmless at last and that his own plans and ambitions were safe? Gonzague came nearer to the hunchback. "Æsop, there is no doubt that Lagardere's girl is Nevers's daughter.
For, indeed, the faces of the swashbucklers were almost funereal in their solemnity. Passepoil, relying upon his Norman cunning, took it upon himself to explain a ticklish situation. "It is lucky we are here to help you," he said, knowingly. Lagardere's laughter became more pronounced. "To help me?" he cried, and he shook with amusement at the absurdity of the words.
That night in Caylus, seventeen years ago, when the darkness quivered with swords, I did not meet your blades." Cocardasse explained. "When you backed Nevers we took no part in the scuffle." "Nor did we join in hunting you later," Passepoil added, hurriedly. Lagardere's face wore a look of satisfaction.
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