wrists.

Mademoiselle stood by looking on, with parted lips and eyes that
were intent and anxious. She saw that figure, spare and lithe as
a greyhound, leap suddenly upon her father, and the next instant
the whip was in the secretary's hands, and he sprang back from the
nobleman, who stood white and quivering with rage, and perhaps, too,
with some dismay.

"That I do not break it across your back, M. le Marquis, said the
young man, as he snapped the whip on his knee, "you may thank your
years." With that he flung the two pieces wide into the sunlit
waters of the brook. "But I will have satisfaction, Monsieur. I
will take payment for this." And he pointed to the weal that
disfigured his face.

"Satisfaction?" roared the Marquis, hoarse in his passion. "Would
you demand satisfaction of me, animal?"

"No," answered the young man, with a wry smile. "Your years again
protect you. But you have a son, and if by to-morrow it should
come to pass that you have a son no more, you may account yourself,
through this" - and again he pointed to the weal - "his murderer."

"Do you mean that you would seek to cross swords with the Vicomte?"
gasped the nobleman, in an unbelief so great that it gained the
ascendency over his anger.

"That is what I mean, Monsieur. In practice he has often done so.
He shall do so for once in actual earnest."