"
"Measure swords with him?" sneeringly. "I believe not."
"There will still remain Monsieur de Saumaise, who, for all his rhymes,
handles a pretty blade."
D'Herouville snapped his fingers. "His death I have already
determined."
"Besides, if I read the Chevalier rightly he will force you. You
laughed too loudly."
"I will laugh again, even more loudly."
"He will strike you . . . even as I did."
D'Herouville spat. "Leave me, Monsieur. My wound may open again, and
that would put me back."
"I advise you to take the air to-day."
"I shall do so."
They were very courtly in those old days.
So D'Herouville went forth to take the air that afternoon and
incidentally to pay his respects in person to Madame de Brissac.
Fortune favored him, for he met her coming down the path from the upper
town. He lifted his hat gravely and barred her path.
"Madame, my delight at seeing you is inexpressible."
Madame's countenance signified that the delight was his alone; she
shared no particle of it. She knew that eventually their paths would
cross again, but she had prepared no plans to meet this certainty.
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