wooden leg, and a painting representing St. Francois, the patron of the
house. Those were the only artistic decorations of the modest
habitation. The nobleman often said: "I have freed myself from the
tyranny of objects." But with that marvellous background of grandiose
ruins and that sky, the simple spot was an incomparable retreat in which
to end in meditation and renouncement a life already shaken by the
tempests of the senses and of the world.

The hermit of that Thebaide rose to greet his two visitors, and pointing
out to Chapron an open volume on his table, he said to him:

"I was thinking of you. It is Chateauvillars's book on duelling. It
contains a code which is not very complete. I recommend it to you,
however, if ever you have to fulfil a mission like ours," and he pointed
to Dorsenne and himself, with a gesture which constituted the most
amicable of acceptations. "It seems you had too hasty a hand.... Ha!
ha! Do not defend yourself. Such as you see me, at twenty-one I threw
a plate in the face of a gentleman who bantered Comte de Chambord before
a number of Jacobins at a table d'hote in the provinces. See," continued
he, raising his white moustache and disclosing a scar, "this is the
souvenir. The fellow was once a dragoon; he proposed the sabre. I
accepted, and this is what I got, while he lost two fingers.... That
will not happen to us this time at least.... Dorsenne has told you our
conditions."

"And I replied that I was sure I could not intrust my honor to better
hands," replied Florent.

"Cease!" replied Montfanon, with a gesture of satisfaction. "No more
phrases. It is well. Moreover, I judged you, sir, from the day on which