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"Well! all the more reason to present our compliments to them," cried Perducas de Pincornay, in a tipsy voice. "And what friends are they? We will see!" cried St. Maline. The good hostess, hoping to prevent a collision, glided among them, and whispered Ernanton's name in St. Maline's ear. "Ernanton!" cried St.
"I trust so, after my commission is over; but, meanwhile, I beg you to observe that as we belong to the king, it is setting a bad example to quarrel." St. Maline was furious, he bit his fingers with rage. As they crossed the Rue St. Antoine, Ernanton saw a litter with a lady in it. "My page!" cried he, and he rode toward it; but she did not seem to recognize him, and passed on.
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?"
Maline, "we have our oath, and M. de Carmainges is so strict that he will not infringe discipline; we cannot draw our swords against each other; therefore, a light, Montcrabeau, a light!" Montcrabeau descended, and in five minutes returned with a light, which he offered to St. Maline. "No, no," said he; "keep it; I may, perhaps, want both hands." And he made a step forward.
No one knew, but as they passed, his dagger cut through the silken hood of the duchess and severed the string of her mask, which fell to the ground. This movement was so rapid that in the half light no one saw or could prevent it. The duchess uttered a cry; St. Maline picked up the mask and returned it to her, looking now full in her uncovered face.
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?" "And I, monsieur, have never fought, for I have never had occasion, and I did not seek it now. I wait your pleasure, monsieur." "Oh!" said St.
I heard you tell M. de Loignac that the wind had carried it away while you were reading a letter from your mistress." "Now," cried St. Maline, "I have the honor of knowing M. d'Aubigne, who, though a brave soldier, writes well, and I recommend you to tell him the history of your hat; he will make a charming story of it." Several stifled laughs were heard.
She did not go on talking about pretty frocks in the abstract; she turned at once to the clothes-closet, and began laying pretty frocks upon the bed! Sylvia emerged upon the "gallery," clad in dainty pink muslin, her beautiful shiny hair arranged under a semi-invalid's cap of pink maline.
But, poor woman, she was in great trouble, and the fear of being compromised is, particularly with princesses, the strongest of all sentiments." Ernanton, however, could not forget the insult he had received, and he returned straight to the hotel. He was naturally decided to infringe all orders and oaths, and to finish with St. Maline; he felt in the humor to fight ten men, if necessary.
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.
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