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Updated: May 6, 2025
"Yes," he said, meaningly, his eyes challenging Saint-Prosper's. "Have you been at Spedella's fencing rooms? Are you in practice?" Saint-Prosper hesitated a moment and the land baron's face fell. Was it possible the other would refuse to meet him?
"His brother's disgrace!" she exclaimed. Culver nodded. "He sold a French stronghold in Africa, Miss Carew." Had the attorney been closely observing her he would have noticed the sudden look of bewilderment that crossed her face. She stared at him with her soul in her eyes. "Ernest Saint-Prosper's brother?"
Grazing contentedly near the porch was his horse and Saint-Prosper's hand now rested on the bridle. "I can't tell how long I was unconscious," said the seemingly hysterical young woman, "but I hurried here as soon as I recovered myself." "Where did it occur? Down the road you came?" "Ye-es." Saint-Prosper vaulted into the saddle. "Tell the manager to see a magistrate," he said.
Without wishing to address the actress and thereby risk a public rebuff it was, nevertheless, impossible for the hot-blooded Southerner to submit to peremptory restraint. Who had made the soldier his taskmaster? He read Saint-Prosper's purpose and was not slow to retaliate. "If I am not mistaken, yonder is our divinity of the lane," said the patroon softly. "Permit me." And he strove to pass.
"Although the barn-burners promised to make it warm for me!" Offering no reply to this sally, Saint-Prosper's gaze continued to rest coldly and expectantly upon the other.
Again he appeared bent upon forcing a quick conclusion, for suddenly with a rush he sought to break over Saint-Prosper's guard, and succeeded in wounding the other slightly in the forehead. Now sure of his man, Mauville sprang at him savagely.
Not only tireless; he suddenly accelerated the tempo of the exercise, but behind this unexpected, even passionate, awakening, the spectators felt an unvarying accuracy, a steely coldness of purpose. The blades clicked faster; they met and parted more viciously; the hard light in Saint-Prosper's eyes grew brighter as he slowly thrust back his antagonist.
Saint-Prosper's presence in New Orleans could be accounted for; he had followed her from the Shadengo Valley across the continent; the drive begun at the country inn he looking down from the dormer window to witness the start had been a long one; very different from his own brief flight, with its wretched end.
Construing in his approach a deliberate intention, a flush of quick anger overspread Saint-Prosper's face and he glanced at the girl by his side. But her manner assured him she had not observed the land baron, for at that moment she was looking in the opposite direction, endeavoring to discover Barnes or the others of the company in the immense throng.
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