a swordsman vastly more skilful than themselves. In a minute d'Estelle was wounded with a slash on the sword arm, and facing Antoine, the cavalier cried in a voice of thunder: "Now, you assassin, it is your turn."
But Antoine, deserted by his comrade, who ran off as soon as he was wounded, had no heart to face the blade which played round him, threatening death at every flashing turn, gave ground and with a cry of terror, broke away and fled as fast as his legs would carry him.
His antagonist was following him, when there came a cry from Gabrielle.
"Monsieur—monsieur!"
He stopped at the words, turned, bared his head and bowed.
"Your pardon, mademoiselle. In my haste to punish a treacherous coward I was forgetting you were alone."
"Monsieur," said Gabrielle, now lowering her eyes in blushing confusion.
It was the cavalier who had rescued her the previous day in the market place; and the rush of thoughts held her tongue-tied in embarrassment.
