"I am sorry to hear that you know him," said Marguerite, a little coldly, "for I fear he is in danger of being killed in earnest this time. As I came to myself in my uncle's arms at the door last night, I heard him say, 'To-morrow night, remember! The Sillon: and come without witnesses.' The words can have only one meaning. They must be about to meet again to-night; and in a calmer mood, and with a better weapon, my uncle cannot fail to administer to him the chastisement his insolence deserves."
"Pray Heaven the Sieur de Roberval may not meet his death instead," exclaimed Marie fervently. "If this man and Claude de Pontbriand's friend be one and the same, there is no more famous duellist in France. He has never been defeated; and he has the advantage of youth and strength on his side. Your uncle will require the aid of an angel from Heaven if he is to avenge himself on La Pommeraye."
Marguerite had risen, and was pacing the room with an agitated air.
"I have been greatly troubled about it," she said. "I did not know what you tell me now, of course; and I hope and pray that you may be wrong. But my uncle is not so young as he once was, and he will be quite alone, and at the mercy of this villain. I have been trying to think out some plan by which it might be prevented, but I do not know what we can do."
"There would be no use speaking to your uncle, of course; anything we could say would only make him the more determined. But I will tell you what we can do; we can go ourselves, and see fair play."
"Go ourselves, you crazy girl! What are you thinking of?"
"I mean that if we were present, in hiding of course, and unknown to any one, we could intervene in time to prevent bloodshed, and if your uncle should chance to be getting the worst of it, we should certainly be able to save his life. La Pommeraye could hardly kill him in our presence. We should, besides, have the rare opportunity of seeing a contest between the two best swordsmen in France," and the impetuous girl's eyes sparkled with some of the warlike fire of her warrior ancestors. "Would it not be a glorious chance, Marguerite? But how we should manage to conceal ourselves in an open space like the Sillon, I do not know."