vent to a loud sob. At this cry of despair the
marquis bounded on his bed, as though he had
been shot; a shrill sinister laugh escaped from
his thin ghost-like lips. "Oh, you are crying,
are you?" said he in a firm voice; "then you
confess yourself vanquished, and I can now
pronounce you to be a coward."

At the word "coward" it was Lucien's turn
to spring up, and the valet, sole witness of
this frightful scene, had to keep him from
throwing himself upon the marquis. "I, a
coward!" cried Claveau, held firmly back by
the servant, "a coward! Ah, I have committed
my share of crimes, been guilty of countless
follies, have possibly rendered many persons
unhappy, but never has a living soul been
entitled to say that Lucien Claveau was a
coward, and feared to face danger, even though
death might be the result. You, marquis, are
a far greater villain than I am, for you are
incapable of repentance and impotent for good.
A moment ago when I was looking at you, covered
with wounds, I forgot my own sufferings, of
which you are the cause, and I forgave you, and
felt a real pity for you, which found vent in the
first tears I have shed for many years. And yet
you laugh at me, and taunt me, and still dare
to laugh at all l am saying. You are incapable
of understanding a heart that can repent and
forgive. Well, know that I again hate and
despise you. You have styled me a coward,
wounded as we both are, we have neither of
us strength sufficient to hold a sword, still
both of us ought not to remain alive. We
are only a few paces distant from each other.
Have you sufficient strength to hold a pistol?"

The marquis made a movement and replied,
"Ah, I understand you, a duel with pistols, and
then we shall have done with each other.
Joseph," said he, addressing the servant, who
was pale with fright, "take those two pistols
on the mantelpiece, load them before our eyes,
and hand one to each of us, then give the
signal; or, better still," said he, turning with
evident pain towards his adversary, "let us
draw lots who shall blow the other's brains
out.'

"So be it," answered Claveau. "Joseph,
you have heard what has passed, load one of
the pistols."

Joseph made a pretence of going out to
execute the orders which he had received. No
sooner, however, did he find himself on the
other side of the bedroom door than he quietly
locked it, and ran off to a doctor, into whose
hands Lucien and the marquis were compelled
to resign themselves. Their cases required
perfect quiet.

Lucien was conveyed by his friends to the
house of a distant relative, a widow lady,
with several children. Assisted by her eldest
daughter, a kind, simple, country girl, she
attended him with so much care, that Claveau
recovered.

His heart was touched, he spoke of marriage,
promising a thorough reformation of his
former course of life; and he did marry. To
enable him to withdraw himself completely
from all association with his old companions,
it was decided that he and his young wife should
leave Bordeaux, if only for a time. But just
before they left, chance brought them, in spite
of all precautions, face to face with the Marquis
de Lignano, who accosted Lucien, saying,

"I had heard that you were convalescent;
but have always maintained the contrary,
because, coward as I have pronounced you to be,
I did not believe you coward enough to hide
yourself behind a petticoat."

Lucien merely replying "Never mind,"
passed on.

The marquis followed, and again hissed his
taunt into Lucien's ear.

The excitement consequent upon this meeting
kept Lucien's wife awake that night, and next
day she was too ill to leave her room. Her
husband sat moodily by her bedside until the
afternoon, when, finding that she had dozed off
to sleep, he determined to go to Bordeaux and
exact revenge. Chafing with anger he hastened
to the café, which Lignano was in the habit of
frequenting, rushed up the stairs, and disregarding
the salutations of several of his old
acquaintances who advanced to greet him after
his long absence, made straight for the table at
which his enemy was seated. The marquis
immediately rose.

"Well, here I am," said Lucien, savagely,
and hardly able to restrain himself from clutching
Lignano by the throat.

"Pshaw!" said the marquis, contemptuously.
"Go back to your petticoat; you are too great
a coward for my notice."

Lucien seized him by the coat collar with one
hand and by the skirts with the other, carried
him to the open window, and held him over the
balcony, then said coldly to him, "If you do not
ask my pardon, and withdraw your words I shall
let you drop."

The marquis, in the grip of an adversary
whom he knew to be thoroughly unrelenting,
had nevertheless the audacity, or it may be the
courage, to reply.

"If you are simply acting, and do not intend
to let me drop, you are a coward."

At that moment an old servant of Lucien's,
who had made his way on to the balcony, whispered
something into his master's ear, whereupon
Lucien instantly carried the marquis
back into the apartment and released his hold
of him. Hardly was the marquis upon his feet
again before he sprang towards Lucien, and dealt
him a sharp blow in the face. To the surprise
of those present, Lucien Claveau offered no kind
of response to this new insult, and the marquis
retired, saying, "To-morrow, wherever you
please."

Madame Claveau, on awaking after her
husband's departure, had been seized with fainting
fits, and was become delirious. Claveau held a
brief conversation with a couple of acquaintances,
and then quitting the café in company
with the old man who had been sent to look for
him, drove with all speed home. In little