Albert went immediately to his mother, who was taking tea with the Princess. He embraced her with such tenderness that she was astonished at his ardour. The Princess held out her hand.

"Do not wait too long to realize your happiness, Albert. You know how all your friends will rejoice with you."

He kissed her hand again, and went to join his two seconds at the gate of the kitchen garden.

The crowd had all dispersed to catch the last train.

The meeting at the "Three Roads" was for seven. They saw the Duke de Castel-Montjoie from a distance. He had had some difficulty in making his escape, having had to help his mother, the Duchess, with the last farewells. He bowed to the Count and led the way by a little door to the inn stable. He was carrying two sets of swords, done up in two cases of green cloth.

The Duke and his seconds were already there. Only the Doctor had not arrived. Morlay-La-Branche and Albert bowed to each other and got ready.

The little bowers, where the habitues of the inn often ate their midday meals, served them as dressing-rooms. The Doctor arrived out of breath, with the information that he had not been able to get a confrere and would have to serve both sides. The umpire, in company with the seconds, chose an alley of proper dimensions.

The adversaries were placed opposite, sword in hand. The Duke de
Castel-Montjoie touched the points of their swords and said, "Go!"

The conditions of the duel were very strict. The first round should last three minutes, should neither of the adversaries be touched.

"Halt!" cried the Duke de Castel-Montjoie.

One minute was allowed them to breathe.

"Go," said the umpire, again joining the sword tips.

This time Albert made a furious drive against the Duke. There was a moment of suspense. The Duke did not give way. His arm shot out and the unfortunate Count turned completely round and fell. Charles de Morlay's sword had pierced beneath the right arm pit, entering the lung. The blood streamed from the wounded man's mouth. The Doctor and the seconds carried him into the room which Jeanette had prepared. The Duke, sorely moved, followed them. Albert saw him and held out a hand which the Duke pressed gently, bending his head. The Count signed to the seconds to withdraw.

"I was wrong, Duke," he murmured. "My love had blinded my wisdom with the heavy mask of egoism. On the threshold of eternity the truth seems clearer. Forgive me, De Morlay, as I forgive you."

He choked. The Doctor came forward. The Duke, as pale as the dying man, pressed that loyal hand for the last time, and withdrew.

In her own room Esperance had just waked with an anguished cry.

"What is the matter with you?"

"I … I … I do not know … a catastrophe … where is my father?"

"In his room, and…."

At that very moment Maurice knocked at the door, and before they had time to answer him, he entered. His face was distorted with grief.

"A catastrophe, a catastrophe!" repeated Esperance, at sight of him.

"Get up, put on a wrap, put something on your head, and come, come quickly! A carriage is waiting for us!"

"A catastrophe, a catastrophe! Albert? the Duke?…"

"Albert!" he answered brusquely. "Come quickly! He wants to see you before…."

The words died in his throat.

He helped his cousin and led her rapidly to the carriage. Esperance was gasping with anguish.

"Tell me, Maurice, tell me."

But the young man could not answer. He knew only that Albert was mortally wounded. He had been waiting a few paces from the Inn to see the duellers come out. The Duke de Morlay-La-Branche and Castel-Montjoie appeared first, and as they were talking to the young man, the Marquis de Montagnac came out precipitately.

"I beg you," he said to Maurice, "to fetch the Count's fiancÉe. He wants to see her before his mother knows."

And Maurice had departed in hot haste.

As soon as they reached the Inn, Esperance jumped to the ground. Jeanette, who had kept a constant watch, ran along ahead of her and without a word showed her the door of the room where Count Albert lay dying. The Doctor stopped her.

"Very gently," he said.

But Albert had felt the presence of his dearly loved. He raised himself a little, holding out his great arms to the young girl.

"Come to me, my love, do not be afraid. I will never hold you again in these arms that frighten you. Listen carefully. I have only a few minutes to live! No one knows the real reason of my quarrel with the Duke…. You may have thought that it was about you. I swear to you," he laid stress on the word, "I swear to you that it was nothing to do with you!"

His glazing eyes cleared for an instant, illuminated by the beauty of his falsehood.

"Marry the Duke, he is charming … he … he is loyal … but do not abandon my mother; she will have only you!"

Two red streams trickled from the corners of his mouth. Esperance on her knees with her hands crossed on the bed, watched the blood run down on the face that had grown paler than the pillow. Her tears blinded her, and she shook as with an ague. Albert ceased breathing for an instant. The Doctor, who was watching closely from the end of the room, came near and gave him a dose of chlorate of calcium to stop the hemorrhage; then at a sign from Albert, withdrew again.

"Promise me," said the young man, "that you will always keep this necklace!"

"Albert, don't die! I will love you! I do love you! Have pity! I will always wear the necklace. You shall unfasten it every evening and clasp it every morning! Do not die! Do not die! I am your fiancÉe, to-morrow I will be your wife! You must life for your mother, for me!"

The door opened and the Countess, suddenly awakened, entered with the
Baron van Berger and the Duke de Castel-Montjoie.

"Mother, dear mother, forgive me…. I leave you Esperance, who will take my place with you. Forgive the Duke de Morlay the pain he has caused you. Our quarrel was so deep, we could only settle it by arms. It was I, I, who precipitated matters. The Duke acted like an honourable gentleman. Oh! do not weep, mother, do not weep!"

He raised his hand painfully to wipe with trembling fingers the tears burning the beautiful eyes that had already wept so much.

The Chaplain from the ChÂteau entered the room, bearing the Holy Sacrament. He was accompanied by the Dowager Duchess, the Prince and Princess of Bernecourt. A solemn hush quieted the sobs of the two women. The priest bent over the couch of the dying man. The Count summoned all his strength to receive the extreme unction, then, transfigured by his faith, he sat up, extending his arms. The two women threw themselves trembling into the open arms, which closed upon them in the last struggle of life. They remained there, imprisoned, not knowing that the soul had fled.

A terrible cry shook these souls sunk down in grief. Esperance shrieked, "These arms, these arms, loosen these arms which are strangling me … Deliver me, deliver me from these arms … I am choking…."

They had some difficulty in freeing her. Her pupils dilated by terror, she was hardly able to breathe. The Doctor did not disguise his anxiety.

"Save her, Doctor," said the Countess Styvens, "save my daughter. My son is now with God; he sees me, he waits for me, but I must obey his last wish."

They carried Esperance away unconscious, without tears, without movement, almost without life. FranÇois, who had just arrived with his wife, learned of the frightful tragedy and received in his arms the poor unconscious cause of the drama. Mme. Darbois did not wish to leave her daughter, but the philosopher insisted, until she could not refuse, that she should go back to the Countess Styvens.

When the professor arrived at the ChÂteau he found the Duke de Morlay at the gate waiting for tidings. At sight of Esperance unconscious, her head fallen back on her father's breast, he jumped on the step of the victoria.

"What more has happened?" he asked panting.

"The Doctor will be here in a few minutes. He will tell you…."

The carriage drove on to the Tower of Saint Genevieve. The Duke took the poor figure in his arms and carried her up to her room, followed by FranÇois Darbois, broken by sorrow. Genevieve was waiting feverishly for the return of Maurice and Esperance. She showed the Duke where to lay Esperance. He stretched the slender creature on her bed. Her eyes were open, but she recognized no one. The rigidity of her expression frightened the Duke, and he bent in terror to listen to her breathing. A faint burning breath touched his face.

The Doctor declared that he could give no decision at that moment, and ordered them to leave her to sleep.

"She must not be left for a second," he said. "Two people must watch so that she need never be left alone."

The Duke kissed the limp little hand, and recoiled—his lips touched her engagement ring. As he went out he met the Countess Styvens and hardly recognized her, so terribly was she changed. She stopped him.

"Do not leave. I know from my son that it was he who provoked you. The cause of your duel is a secret that I shall never seek to know. May God pardon my son and free you from all remorse. I go to my daughter, all I have left to love and protect."

It was evident that the noble woman was making a great effort; the last words of her son were still ringing in her brain.

De Morlay knelt and watched the Countess disappear into the room.