caught his eye and went chill to his heart. Death, not in the arena, not in the sight of shouting thousands, but in this darkening street, with an enemy laughing from the window, death with no revenge to follow, with no certainty that after all she would be safe, such a death could be compassed only by pure love—the love of a child for a parent, of a parent for a child, of a man for the one woman in the world!
He recoiled. “You would not spare her!” he cried, his face damp with sweat—for he knew now that he would not go. “You want to be rid of me! You would fool me, and then”
“Out of your own mouth you are convict!” Count Hannibal retorted gravely. “It was you who said it! But still I swear it! Shall I swear it to you?”
But Tignonville recoiled another step and was silent.
“No? O preux chevalier, O gallant knight! I knew it! Do you think that I did not know with whom I had to deal?” And Count Hannibal burst into harsh laughter, turning his back on the other, as if he no longer counted. “You will neither die with her nor for her! You were better in her petticoats and she in your breeches! Or no, you are best as you are, good father! Take my advice, M. de Tignonville, have done with arms; and with a string of beads, and soft words, and talk of Holy Mother Church, you will fool the women as surely as the best of them! They are not all like my cousin, a flouting, gibing, jeering woman—you had poor fortune there, I fear?”
“If I had a sword!” Tignonville hissed, his face livid with rage. “You call me coward, because I will not die to please you. But give me a sword, and I will show you if I am a coward!”
Tavannes stood still. “You are there, are you?” he said in an altered tone. “I”
“Give me a sword,” Tignonville repeated, holding out
