THE LOVE OF MONSIEUR
to-night, monsieur, here—now—at this very spot!” He nervously fingered the laces at his throat.
Mornay paused a moment. “Monsieur de Heywood would violate the hospitality—”
“Yes,” interrupted Heywood, “we shall have no constables here—”
“But, monsieur—”
“Enough! Will you fight, or shall I—” He made a movement towards Mornay. There came so dangerous a flash in the Frenchman’s eyes that Heywood stopped. Mornay drew back a step and put his hand upon his sword.
“At last,” sneered Heywood—“at last you understand.”
Mornay shrugged his shoulders as though absolving himself from all responsibility.
“Eh bien,” he said. “It shall be as you wish.”
There had been so many duels with fatal results in London during the last few months that it was as much as a man’s life was worth to engage in one, either as principal or second. But this affair admitted of no delay, and Fer-
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