forehead and stretched him dead on the ground. He put back his pistols
into his pocket and went off directly by himself, as if he were merely
continuing his walk. In two minutes I followed his example, after
ascertaining that the unfortunate d'Ache no longer breathed.

I was in a state of amazement. Such a duel was more like a combat of
romance than a real fact. I could not understand it; I had watched the
Swiss, and had not noticed the slightest change pass over his face.

I breakfasted with Madame d'Urfe, whom I found inconsolable. It was the
full moon, and at three minutes past four exactly I ought to perform the
mysterious creation of the child in which she was to be born again. But
the Lascaris, on whom the work was to be wrought, was twisting and
turning in her bed, contorting herself in such a way that it would be
impossible for me to accomplish the prolific work.

My grief, when I heard what had happened, was hypocritical; in the first
place because I no longer felt any desire for the girl, and in the second
because I thought I saw a way in which I could make use of the incident
to take vengeance on her.

I lavished consolations on Madame d'Urfe; and on consulting the oracle I
found that the Lascaris had been defiled by an evil genius, and that I
must search for another virgin whose purity must be under the protection
of more powerful spirits. I saw that my madwoman was perfectly happy with
this, and I left her to visit the Corticelli, whom I found in bed with
her mother beside her.

"You have convulsions, have you, dearest?" said I.