my acceptance of the challenge."

"Then," said St. Prix, "you shall submit to an indignity that
disgraces a French gentleman forever." And raising his sheathed sword,
he struck De Grandville with the flat of the scabbard.

Henri's sword instantly flashed in the lamplight, and St. Prix drawing
his rapier, they were instantly engaged in deadly combat. Both were
expert swordsmen, and while one fought with the ferocity of hatred and
disappointment, the arm of the other was nerved by a sense of wrong.
The metallic ring of their blades was unintermitted, for neither
paused to take breath, but, with teeth set and eyes glaring, thrust,
parried, advanced, and fell back in the fierce ardor of the combat. At
last, De Grandville, seeing an opportunity, sent his adversary's blade
whirling through the air, and drawing back his weapon, prepared to
thrust it through his breast.

"Strike!" said St. Prix; "you have vanquished me in love and in arms,
and there is nothing left me but to die."

"Die, then, but on the field of battle, brave Raoul," said de
Grandville, "and since I have deprived you of your sword, take mine; I
shall be honored by the exchange."

"Hold!" said a stern voice; and turning, Henri beheld with confusion
the countenance of Marshal Saxe, who, attended by a file of
musketeers, had entered the tent at the close of the duel. "You will
give up your sword to this officer, Captain de Grandville," added he,
pointing to a commissioned officer by whom he was accompanied. "Count
de St. Prix, you will pick up your weapon, also, and surrender it.