courage, who has already fought ten duels, and will probably fight eleven. His name alone is significant enough. As far as I am concerned, you are well aware that I can fight also. I fought at Sens, at Bleneau, at the Dunes in front of the artillery, a hundred paces in front of the line, while you — I say this parenthetically — were a hundred paces behind it. True it is that on that occasion there were by far too great a concourse of persons present for your courage to be observed, and on that account, perhaps, you did not reveal it; while here, it would be a display, and would excite remark — you wish that others should talk about you, in what manner you do not care. Do not depend upon me, Monsieur de Wardes, to assist you in your designs, for I shall certainly not afford you that pleasure."
"Sensibly observed," said Buckingham, putting up his sword, "and I ask your forgiveness, Monsieur de Bragelonne, for having allowed myself to yield to a first impulse."
De Wardes, however, on the contrary, perfectly furious, bounded forward and raised his sword threateningly against Raoul, who had scarcely time to put himself in a posture of defense.
"Take care, monsieur," said Bragelonne tranquilly, "or you will put out one of my eyes."
"You will not fight, then?" said De Wardes.
"Not at this moment; but this I promise to do, immediately on our arrival at Paris; I will conduct you to Monsieur d'Artagnan, to whom you shall detail all the causes of complaint you have against him. Monsieur d'Artagnan will solicit the king's permission to measure swords with you. The king will yield his consent, and when you shall have received the sword-thrust in due course, you will consider, in a calmer frame of mind, the precepts of the Gospel which enjoin forgetfulness of injuries."
"Ah!" exclai'med De Wardes, furious at this imperturbable coolness, "one can clearly see you are half a bastard. Monsieur de Bragelonne."
Raoul became as pale as death; his eyes flashed like lightning, and made De Wardes fall back. Buckingham also, who had perceived their expression, threw himself between the two adversaries, whom he had expected to see precipitate themselves on each other. De Wardes had reserved this injury for the last; he clasped his sword tight in his hand, and awaited the encounter.
"You are right, monsieur," said Raoul, mastering his emotion, "I am only acquainted with my father's name;
