It was all over.
The Chevalier lay motionless on the ground, the blood trickling from a
ragged cut above the temple. The corporal had used the hilt of his
heavy sword, and no small power had forced the blow.
The vicomte sprang forward just as madame was groping for the knife.
He put his foot on it, laughing.
"Not at present, Madame; later, if you are inclined that way. That was
well done, Corporal."
The vicomte bound the Chevalier's hands and ankles securely and took
the dripping hat from Pauquet, dashing the contents into the
Chevalier's face.
"Help me set him up against the wall."
The Chevalier shuddered, and by and by opened his eyes. The world came
back to him. He looked at his enemies calmly.
"Well?" he said. He would waste no breath asking for mercy. There was
no mercy here.
"You shall be left where you are, Monsieur," replied the vicomte,
"while I hold converse with madame inside. You are where you can hear
but not see. Corporal, take the men to the canoe and wait for me.
Warn me if there is any danger. I shall be along presently.
Chevalier, I compliment you upon your fight. I know but a dozen men in
all France who are your match.
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