"I say again that for the time being my life belongs to my country."
"Mlle. de la Boulays told us that you had shed half your blood for your country. I claim the other half. When a man knows that he cannot fight, or chooses not to fight, he behaves himself accordingly, and keeps to himself the ill opinion that he may have formed of his neighbor."
Captain d'Haumont did not answer the Count. He pointed to the door.
Then Count de Gorbio, with a slow movement, drew off a heavy motor-glove and struck him with it across the face.
The scene changed in a flash. Didier took the Count in his formidable hands, lifted him, swung him, and was about to break his head against the wall when the Count, in his terror, bellowed the one thing that could save him.
During this time Mlle. de la Boulays was searching the Château for de Gorbio, and was in a fever of anxiety as to what had become of him.
She learned that he had set out in one of the motor-cars with the hood up. M. de la Boulays was in his study, unconscious of what was happening. At that juncture the small racing car returned, and the chauffeur told Françoise that Captain d'Haumont had missed the train and had ordered him to drive to an hotel.
She sprang into the car, a prey to the gloomiest forebodings. It seemed a forgone conclusion to her that de Gorbio, furious at the manner in which she had openly slighted him and with Didier for his attitude towards him, was in pursuit with a view of challenging him. The deed, perhaps, was already done. Her memory harked back to the Count's wonderful prowess with the pistol, and she shuddered. Besides, she had learned with certainty that his car had preceded her by an hour. . . .
Her feeling of anguish increased every moment almost to the point of suffocation. She was convinced that the two men were in the very act of fighting. They could not even wait until the next morning!
When she reached the hotel and discovered that Didier was in his room safe and sound, she wept tears of joy. She ran up to his room and knocked wildly at the door. The Captain himself opened it.
"You're going to fight a duel," she burst out, addressing him in the familiar second person which spoke volumes for their love which, when they were alone, had never been in question. They both remained as motionless as statues. "Forgive me," she went on, while a deep blush mantled her cheeks. "Oh, forgive me." And she sank into a chair, sobbing aloud.