most expert swordsmen in France--yet he was constrained to respect a
composure not sangfroid and a firmness in misfortune not bravado. Philip
was still the man who had valiantly commanded men; who had held of the
high places of the earth. In whatever adventurous blood his purposes had
been conceived, or his doubtful plans accomplished, he was still,
stripped of power, a man to be reckoned with: resolute in his course once
set upon, and impulsive towards good as towards evil. He was never so
much worth respect as when, a dispossessed sovereign with an empty title,
discountenanced by his order, disbarred his profession, he held himself
ready to take whatever penalty now came.

In the presence of General Grandjon-Larisse, with whom was the might of
righteous vengeance, he was the more distinguished figure. To Philip now
there came the cold quiet of the sinner, great enough to rise above
physical fear, proud enough to say to the world: "Come, I pay the debt I
owe. We are quits. You have no favours to give, and I none to take.
You have no pardon to grant, and I none to ask."

At parting Grandjon-Larisse bowed to Philip with great politeness, and
said: "In Paris then, monsieur le prince."

Philip bowed his head in assent.

When they met again, it was at the entrance to the Bois de Boulogne near
the Maillot gate.

It was a damp grey morning immediately before sunrise, and at first there
was scarce light enough for the combatants to see each other perfectly,
but both were eager and would not delay.