United States or Trinidad and Tobago ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
To Philip now there came the cold quiet of the sinner, great enough to rise above physical fear, proud enough to say to the world: "Come, I pay the debt I owe. We are quits. You have no favours to give, and I none to take. You have no pardon to grant, and I none to ask." At parting Grandjon-Larisse bowed to Philip with great politeness, and said: "In Paris then, monsieur le prince."
He was more active, and he was quicker and lighter of fence than his antagonist. But Grandjon-Larisse had the surer eye, and was invincibly certain of hand and strong of wrist. At length Philip wounded his opponent slightly in the left breast, and the seconds came forward to declare that honour was satisfied. But neither would listen or heed; their purpose was fixed to fight to the death.
He took no heed, and they engaged at once. After a few passes Grandjon-Larisse said: "You are in the light, monseigneur; the sun shines full upon you," and he pointed to the shade of a wall near by. "It is darker there." "One of us must certainly be in the dark-soon," answered Philip grimly, but he removed to the wall. From the first Philip took the offensive.
I was always in too great a hurry; I was too ambitious, Guida. Ambition has killed me, and it has killed her the Comtesse. She is gone. What was it he said if I could but remember what Grandjon-Larisse said ah yes, yes! after he had given me my death-wound, he said: "It is not the broken heart that kills, but broken pride." There is the truth. She is in her grave, and I am going out into the dark.
Yet here he was being introduced to the revolutionary general as "my kinsman of the isles of Normandy." Here, too, was the same General Grandjon-Larisse applauding him on his rare fortune to be thus released on parole through the Duc de Bercy, and quoting with a laugh, half sneer and half raillery, the old Norman proverb: "A Norman dead a thousand years cries Haro!
With a moan Philip swayed and fell forward into the arms of Damour, still grasping his weapon. Grandjon-Larisse stooped to the injured man. Unloosing his fingers from the sword, Philip stretched up a hand to his enemy. "I am hurt to death," he said. "Permit my compliments to the best swordsman I have ever known." Then with a touch of sorry humour he added: "You cannot doubt their sincerity."
Philip lay on a bed in the unostentatious lodging in the Rue de Vaugirard where Damour had brought him. The surgeon had pronounced the wound mortal, giving him but a few hours to live. For long after he was gone Philip was silent, but at length he said "You heard what Grandjon-Larisse said It is broken pride that kills, Damour." Then he asked for pen, ink, and paper. They were brought to him.
"She is dead she is dead!" he gasped. Grandjon-Larisse inclined his head, then after a moment, gravely said: "What did you think was left for a woman for a Chantavoine? It is not the broken heart that kills, but broken pride, monseigneur." So saying, he bowed again to Philip and turned upon his heel.
He remembered it had been burned into his brain the day he saw it first in the Gazette de Jersey that he had married the Comtesse Chantavoine, niece of the Marquis Grandjon-Larisse, upon the very day, and but an hour before, the old Duc de Bercy suddenly died. It flashed across his mind now what he had felt then.
"Let me speak fully and bluntly now," Grandjon-Larisse went on. "You will not shrink from plain truths, I know. We were friends ere you went adventuring with Rullecour. We are soldiers too; and you will understand I meant no bragging in my letter." He raised his brows inquiringly, and Detricand inclined his head in assent. Without more ado, Grandjon-Larisse laid a map on the table.
Word Of The Day