"Yes, monsieur, I myself looked to it."

"Are you going very far?" cried Mario, who had just supped with Mercedes and was returning to his bedroom.

"No, my son, I am not going far. I shall return in two short hours. You must sleep quietly. Come quickly and kiss me!"

"Oh! how handsome you are!" said Mario, artlessly. "Are you going to La Motte-Seuilly again?"

"No, no, I am going to dance at a ball," the marquis replied with a smile.

"Take me, so that I can see you dance," said the child.

"I cannot; but be patient, my little cupid, for after to-morrow I will not take a step without you."

When the old nobleman had donned his little cap of yellow leather striped with silver, with an inner lining of iron, and adorned with long plumes drooping over his shoulder; when he was arrayed in his short military cloak, his long sword, and his gorget of shining steel buckled beneath his lace ruff, Adamas could vow, without flattery, that he had an air of grandeur, especially as the excitement of the evening had caused his paint to disappear, so that he wore almost his natural face, by no means that of a popinjay.

"Now you are ready, monsieur," said Adamas. "But am I not to go with you?"

"No, my friend; you will close all the doors of my pavilion and pass the evening with my son. If he falls asleep, you will make up a camp-bed for him with cushions. I desire to find him here when I return; and now, hold a light for me, I want to talk with Master Jovelin in the salon."

He kissed Mario several times with deep emotion, and went down to the lower floor.

"What have you determined upon and where are you going?" Lucilio's expressive eyes inquired.

"I am going to Ars to finish the investigation. And after that, eh? After that, if there is occasion to do so, I shall concert measures with Guillaume to prevent the traitor's escape, and return and advise with you as to our next move. Au revoir for a time, my dear friend."

Lucilio sighed as he looked after the marquis. He seemed to him to be intent upon some more serious project than he had admitted in his programme.

While the marquis, without haste, was making his preparations for departure, Guillaume and D'Alvimar, the latter attended by Sancho, the other by his escort of four men-at-arms, were riding slowly toward the château of Ars, by the lower road; that is to say, the road that leaves the plateau of Le Chaumois on the right and passes quite near La Châtre.

As the moon had not risen, and Guillaume's horses were very tired, they could not travel very quickly.

D'Alvimar took advantage of this circumstance to ride a little in advance with his squire, as if involuntarily, because their horses were fresher. Then, slackening his pace, he said:

"Sancho, you did not leave anything belonging to me at Briantes?"

"I never forget anything, Antonio."

"Yes, you do; you forget daggers and leave them in the bodies of the people you kill."

"That reproach again?"

"I have my reasons for making it to-day. My horse no longer goes lame, but do you think he is in condition to take a long journey to-night?"

"Yes. What is there new?"

"Listen carefully and try to understand quickly. The peddler was a gentleman, the Marquis de Bois-Doré's brother. The knife that you used is in that old man's possession. He has sworn vengeance, and he accuses us on the testimony of some witness, I know not whom."

"The Moorish woman."

"Why the Moorish woman?"

"Because those accursed creatures always bring misfortune."

"If you have no other reason——"

"I have others; I will tell you what they are."

"Yes, later. We must consider now how we are to leave this neighborhood without any further explanation with that old idiot. I told him enough to induce him to be patient. He expects me to-morrow."

"For a duel?"

"No; he is too old!"

"But he is very cunning; are you anxious to rot in some dungeon in his château? No matter, I will go there with you, if you go."

"I shall not go. A certain prophecy makes me very prudent. When we are within a short distance of that little town of which you see the lights yonder, leave the escort, disappear, and return a quarter of an hour later and say that someone in the town handed you a letter for me. I will go to the château of Ars before reading it, but, as soon as I have read it, I will say to Monsieur d'Ars that I must go away at once. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"Let us wait for Monsieur d'Ars then, and display no haste."

When honest Bois-Doré, armed to the teeth and firmly seated on the stately Rosidor, had passed the confines of the village of Briantes, he discovered Adamas, mounted on a little hackney of placid disposition, ambling at his side.

"What! is that you, master rebel?" he said, in a tone which did not succeed in being angry; "did I not forbid you to follow me and order you to keep watch over my heir?"

"Your heir is well guarded, monsieur; Master Jovelin gave me his word not to leave him, and, moreover, I do not see that he incurs any risk in your château, now that the enemy has left it and we are charging upon him."

"I know that we are the ones who are in danger now, Adamas, and that is why I did not want you here, for you are old and broken, and besides, you never were a great warrior."

"It is true, monsieur, that I am not overfond of receiving blows, but I like to deal them when I can. I am no longer a young man; but if I am not quick of foot, I have a sharp eye, and I propose to see that you don't fall into any ambush. That is why I have brought two more men with me, who will overtake us in three minutes. Besides, I should have gone mad to have to wait for you, knowing nothing and doing nothing. By the way, my dear master, where are we going and what are we going to do?"

"You will soon see, my friend, you will soon see! But let us make haste. We have no time to lose if we would overtake them half way to Ars."

They urged their horses to a gallop, and in less than a quarter of an hour came in sight of Guillaume and his escort, who were still riding very slowly.

The moon was rising and shone on the weapons of the horsemen.

They had reached a spot then and now called La Rochaille, a spot not far from numerous houses to-day, but in those days completely deserted and barren.

The road was on a slope, with a small ravine on one side, and on the other a hill-top strewn with great gray boulders, with an occasional stunted chestnut tree growing among them. The place bore a bad name; the peasants have always had superstitious ideas concerning the boulders, perhaps because they vaguely attribute their presence to the efforts of the demons of ancient Gaul, perhaps because they believe that they fell from heaven to destroy the worship of those wicked demons.

The marquis ordered his little troop to halt before it had been discovered by Guillaume and his men, and rode forward alone at full speed, intending to bar his young kinsman's passage.

When they heard the noise of the galloping hoofs, Guillaume and D'Alvimar turned, the former perfectly calm, supposing that it was some frightened traveller, the latter sorely perturbed, and still dwelling on the prediction which the events of that evening seemed to confirm and to hasten to its fulfilment.

When Bois-Doré passed on the left of the escort, Guillaume did not recognize him in his military costume; but D'Alvimar recognized him by the throbbing of his agitated heart; and old Sancho, warned by a similar sensation, rode nearer to him.

Their anxiety was dispelled when Bois-Doré rode on without speaking to them. They concluded then that it was not he. But when he drew rein and wheeled about with his horse's head almost touching theirs, they glanced at each other and instinctively drew close together.

"What does this mean, monsieur?" said Guillaume, taking one of his pistols from the holster at his saddlebow. "Who are you and what do you want?"

But before Bois-Doré had time to reply, a pistol was discharged between them, and the ball grazed the marquis's cap, as he, seeing Sancho's movement to murder him, hastily stooped, crying:

"It is I, Guillaume!"

"Ten thousand devils!" cried Guillaume in dismay; "who fired on the marquis? In heaven's name, marquis, are you hit?"

"Not a scratch," replied Bois-Doré; "but I must say that you have some vile hounds in your party, to fire on a single man before they know whether he is friend or foe!"

"You are right, and I will do justice on them instantly," rejoined the wrathful young man. "Miserable knaves, which of you fired on the best man in the realm?"

"Not I! nor I! nor I! nor I!" cried Monsieur d'Ars's four servants with one voice.

"No, no!" said the marquis, "none of these honest fellows would have done such a thing. I saw the man who fired the shot, and there he is!"

As he spoke, Bois-Doré, with a dexterity, agility and force worthy of his best days, struck Sancho across the face with his whip, and, as the assassin put his hands to his eyes, he seized him by the collar, and, dragging him from his saddle, threw him to the ground and lashed his horse, which galloped away and disappeared in the direction of Briantes.

At the same instant the marquis's four men, disregarding his orders to await a summons from him, rode up at full speed, with Adamas, in whom the report of the pistol and the sight of the flying horse had aroused the keenest anxiety.

"Ah! here you are," said the marquis. "Very good; pick up yonder unhorsed cavalier; he belongs to me, as I have the droit d'épave[22] on this road. He is my prisoner. Bind him; there is reason to distrust his hands."

XXXI

While the colossal charioteer, Aristandre, bound Sancho's hands—he was still dazed by his fall—and stripped him of his arms, D'Alvimar emerged at last from the stupor caused by this swiftly enacted scene.

For an instant he had thought of abandoning his ill-omened confederate to Bois-Doré's wrath; but when he saw him treated so roughly because he had once more risked his life for him, a remnant of pride and shame compelled him to remonstrate.

"I can understand, messire," he said, "that you are angered by the stupidity of that old man, who was asleep in his saddle, and being awakened by a sudden shock, thought that he was attacked by a band of robbers. He certainly deserves punishment, but not to be treated as a prisoner within your seignioral jurisdiction; for he belongs to me, and it is my prerogative and mine alone to punish him for the insult he offered you."

"Do you call that an insult, Monsieur de Villareal?" retorted the marquis in a tone of contempt. "But it is not with you that I have to deal, but with my friend and kinsman Guillaume d'Ars."

"I will permit no explanation," rejoined D'Alvimar with feigned passion, "until my servant is restored to me, and if you desire a duel——"

"Listen to me, Guillaume," said Bois-Doré.

"No, no one shall listen to you," shouted D'Alvimar, trying to release his horse, which Guillaume, having taken his stand between him and Bois-Doré, was holding in order to prevent a conflict. "Monsieur d'Ars, I am your friend and your guest, you invited me to visit you and made me welcome; you promised me loyal assistance on every occasion; you will not allow me to be outraged, even by a member of your family. Under such circumstances, I am the one to whom you owe support and fair play, even against your own brother."

"I am aware of it," replied Guillaume, "and it shall be so. But calm yourself first of all, and allow Monsieur de Bois-Doré to speak. I know him well enough to be sure of his courtesy to you and his generous treatment of your servant. Make due allowance for a moment of anger; it is the first time I have ever seen him so wrathful, and, although he has good reason, I am certain that I can pacify him. Come, come, be quiet, my dear fellow! You are in a passion too; but you are the younger, and my cousin is the insulted party. I will confess that, if he had received the slightest scratch, I would have killed your servant on the spot, though I had to give you satisfaction afterward."

"But what the devil, monsieur!" cried D'Alvimar, still hoping to avoid the impending explanation by a quarrel, and, if necessary, by a scuffle, "wherein was my servant at fault, I pray to know? What sort of a caprice was it that induced monsieur le marquis to ride by us without making himself known, and then to block our road, at the risk of being taken for a lunatic? Did not you yourself seize your pistol and shout qui vive?"

"To be sure; but I should not have fired without awaiting a reply, nor would you, I imagine, and you cannot excuse your servant's stupid or evil act. Come, be calm. If you wish me to succeed in arranging the affair to your honor and satisfaction, do not make it impossible by your violence."

While D'Alvimar continued to argue vehemently, and the marquis to listen with entire tranquillity, Adamas, anxious concerning the result of the affair, had spoken to Guillaume's men upon his own authority. He had told them all that he knew, and they had sworn that in case Monsieur d'Ars should feel compelled to order them to defend Monsieur D'Alvimar against the Bois-Doré party, they would only pretend to fight, and would leave the field clear for anybody whose right it was, to deal out justice to the assassins.

All the men in both parties were relations or friends to one another, and they were in no wise inclined to exchange blows for love of a foreigner, whether guilty or under suspicion only.

Thus the time that D'Alvimar strove to gain by his remonstrances turned against him; and when Guillaume, annoyed and disgusted by his obstinacy, turned his back on him to go to talk with the marquis a few steps away, D'Alvimar was at once surrounded by the servants of the latter, without the slightest opposition on the part of Guillaume's men.

Thereupon he became very seriously alarmed and glanced about him, estimating the slight chance that remained of successful flight, unless he were resigned to risk the loss of honor or of life in the attempt.

But hope revived when he heard Guillaume, to whom Bois-Doré had briefly recounted his grievances, refuse to believe that he was not misled by deceptive appearances.

"Monsieur de Villareal?" he said. "That is utterly impossible, and I should have had to see it with my own eyes to believe it. Now, as you did not see it, and as you must have been deceived by false reports, permit me to defend this gentleman's honor, and do not think, monsieur and dear cousin, that, deeply as I respect you, I will allow a friend who has placed himself under my protection to be insulted and outraged without proofs. Moreover, you have not that right, for every gentleman is subject to the king's justice alone. So calm your excited nerves, I implore you, and allow me to return home, where you know that I am very anxious to be."

"I am not excited," rejoined Bois-Doré, raising his voice and with an air of dignity that Guillaume had never seen him assume, "and I anticipated your reply, my good friend and cousin. It is such a reply as I should make in your place, and I find no fault with it. Having expected that you would act as you have done, I determined to make my conduct conform to the consideration which I owe you, and that is why you see me here, halfway between our respective abodes, on neutral, public ground. To be sure I have some rights over this road; but three steps away, among yonder old rocks, I am neither on your property nor mine. Know therefore that I have determined to fight a duel to the death with this traitor, who cannot refuse to fight with me, since I have designedly assaulted and insulted him in the person of his servant, and since I do at this moment insult and challenge him in his own person, branding him before God, before you and before the honest fellows who attend us, as a cowardly and despicable murderer! I do not think that you can justly take it ill of me that I do what I am doing; for I beg you to observe that, so long as you and he were in my house, I refrained from anything approaching insult or bad temper, wherein I kept my promise to be a loyal host to him; and I beg you to observe also that I took my measures to meet you in the open fields, in order to avoid doing violence under your roof, for I would not for anything in the world have imposed upon you the necessity of bearing aid to this vile creature. Lastly, my cousin, I beg you to consider this, which is the greatest sacrifice I can make to you: instead of having him beaten to death by my servants, as he deserves, I myself, a nobleman, deserving of my rank, stoop to measure swords with a cutthroat of the vilest sort. Were it not for the friendship with which you honor me, I would have thrown him into an underground dungeon; but, desirous to show my respect for you, even in the error into which you have fallen with regard to him, I renounce all my honorable privileges, to fight him, a vile, degraded creature, with the weapons of men of honor.—I have said what I have to say, and you can make no further objection. Be his second, unworthy as he is of your kindness; Adamas will be mine. I will content myself with the aid of that honest man, since in such an affair there can be no question of a combat between the seconds."

"Assuredly," cried Guillaume, deeply moved by the old man's greatness of heart, "conduct more loyal than yours cannot be imagined, my cousin, and, in view of the suspicions you entertain, you display such generosity as is rarely seen. But those suspicions being unfounded——"

"It is no longer a question of suspicions," replied the marquis, "since you do not choose to listen to them; I insult one of your friends, and I fancy that you would not consider as a friend a man capable of shrinking from a combat."

"Surely not!" cried Guillaume; "but I will not permit this duel, which does not befit your years, my cousin! I would prefer to fight in your stead. Come, will you accept my promise? I promise to avenge your brother's death with my own hand if you succeed in proving incontestably that Monsieur D'Alvimar was the dastardly and wicked author thereof. Wait until to-morrow, and I will constitute myself justiciary of my family, as my duty to you demands."

Guillaume's impulse was worthy of the marquis's noble heart; but, by letting slip an allusion to his years, Guillaume had mortified him exceedingly.

"My cousin," he said, recurring to that puerility of mind which contrasted so strongly with the nobility of his instincts, "you take me for an old Signor Pantaleone, with a rusty sword and a trembling hand. Before consigning me to crutches, remember, I beg, the consideration I have shown you, which does not deserve the affront you put upon me by offering to avenge my dearest brother's execrable murder in my stead. Come, it seems to me that we have had words enough, and my patience is exhausted. Your Monsieur de Villareal has more than I, for he listens to all this without finding a word to say."

Guillaume saw that matters had gone so far that any reconciliation was impossible; and, as he agreed with the marquis that D'Alvimar had suddenly become much too patient, he turned to him and said sharply:

"Come, my dear fellow, why do you not answer, I will not say this challenge, which has no just foundation, but a charge which you surely cannot deserve?"

D'Alvimar had reflected during the discussion. He affected a disdainful and satirical calmness.

"I accept the challenge, monsieur," he replied, "and I do not think that I deserve great credit for so doing, being, as you know, most expert in the use of all weapons. As for the accusation, it is so absurd and unjust that I am waiting for you yourself to explain it to me before disproving it; for I do not know as yet what the marquis has said to you about me, as he whispered it in your ear, and I desire him to repeat it aloud."

"I am quite willing, and it will not take long," retorted Bois-Doré. "I said that you were a brigand, an assassin and a thief. You desire more, but I can find nothing worse to say of you than the bare truth."

"You pay me strange compliments, monsieur le marquis!" said the Spaniard coolly. "You have already regaled me, under your own roof, with a lugubrious tale wherein you were pleased to represent me as the slayer of your brother. Whether I am or not, I do not know, as I told you; I simply know that I bade my servant kill a man dressed as a peddler, who was carrying away by force a lady whose defence I took upon myself, as I told you, and whose honor I avenged."

"Oho!" cried the marquis, "that is your text now, is it? The lady who was flying with my brother was abducted against her will, and you don't remember saying that she was your——"

"Lower, monsieur, I beg you. If Monsieur d'Ars will kindly listen to me a few steps away from here, I will tell him who that woman was, unless you prefer to vilify and besmirch her name before your servants."

"My servants are better men than you and yours, monsieur! No matter! I am exceedingly desirous that you should impart your secret to Monsieur d'Ars, but in my presence, as you have already given me one version of it."

The three walked away from the group, and the marquis spoke first.

"Come," he said, "explain yourself! You allege as your defence that that woman was your sister!"

"And do you, monsieur," retorted D'Alvimar, "propose to vent your factitious rage by giving me the lie again?"

"By no means, monsieur. I ask you to tell us your sister's name; for it seems that your own name is not Villareal."

"Why so, monsieur?"

"Because I know it now. Dare to contradict me before Monsieur d'Ars, whom you are also deceiving by an assumed name!"

"No, no!" said Guillaume; "monsieur is concealing his identity under one of his family names, and I know perfectly well the name he usually bears."

"In that case, cousin, let him say what it is, and I swear that, if it proves to be the same as my deceased sister-in-law's, I will retire with apologies to both of you."

"And I refuse to tell it," said D'Alvimar. "I supposed that between gentlemen a simple assertion should suffice; but you insult me without pause or prudence. A duel is what you seek, and your wish shall be gratified."

"No! a hundred times no!" cried Guillaume. "Let us have done with this; and as nothing more is necessary than to tell the marquis your name to induce him to withdraw in peace, I——"

"I beg you not to forget," interposed D'Alvimar, "that you expose me——"

"No! my cousin is too honorable a man to betray you to your enemies. Understand, marquis, and I place this information under the safeguard of your honor, that monsieur's name is Sciarra d'Alvimar."

"Oho!" rejoined the marquis with a sneer. "So monsieur's initials happen to be identical with those of the stamp of the Salamanca factory?"

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing! I am simply nailing another of monsieur's lies as I pass; but this one is so trifling compared with the others——"

"What others? Come, come, marquis, you are too persistent!"

"Hush, Guillaume!" said D'Alvimar, still affecting a disdainful attitude. "This must end in a sword thrust. We are simply wasting time."

"Ah! but I am not in so much haste now," rejoined the marquis. "I insist upon knowing the baptismal name and the family name of the sister of Monsieur de Villareal, de Sciarra and d'Alvimar. I know that the Spaniards have many names; but if he will tell me simply that lady's real name, her family name——"

"If you know it," retorted D'Alvimar, "your persistence in making me tell it is an additional insult."

"Oh! do not take it so, D'Alvimar," cried Guillaume testily. "Give her your own name, unless you propose that we shall pass the night here!"

"Nay, cousin," said the marquis; "I myself will supply this mysterious name. Monsieur de Villareal's alleged sister was called Julie de Sandoval."

"Well, why not, monsieur?" said D'Alvimar, seizing eagerly upon what he believed to be a monstrous blunder on the old man's part. "I did not wish to mention that name. It was not becoming in me to reveal it, and I thought that you did not know it. Since you yourself, by asserting that to be the fact, have been guilty of one of those falsehoods which you rebuke so sharply in others, let me tell you, monsieur, that Julie de Sandoval was my mother's daughter, by her first husband."

"In that case, monsieur," replied Bois-Doré uncovering, "I am ready to withdraw, and to apologize for my violence, if you will swear to me on your honor that you recognized your half-sister, Julie de Sandoval, under her veil, at the tavern of——"

"I swear it to satisfy you. Indeed, I saw her without her veil in that tavern."

"For the third time—pardon my persistence, I owe it to my brother's memory—for the third time, it was really your sister, Julie de Sandoval? The ring which she wore on her finger and is now on mine, and which bears that name in full, can have belonged to no other than her? You swear it?"

"I swear it! Are you satisfied?"

"Stay! there is a crest on the bezel of this ring; a shield azure with a head or. Are those the arms of the Sandovals of your family?"

"Yes, monsieur, the very same."

"Then, monsieur," said Bois-Doré, replacing his cap, "I declare once more that you have lied like the impudent dastard that you are; for I have been making sport of you: your alleged sister's ring bears the name of Maria de Merida, and the arms are simple with a cross argent. I can prove it."

XXXII

Guillaume was shaken; but D'Alvimar reflected rapidly.

The moon, even though it had been much brighter, would not have enabled one to see the tiny letters and microscopic crest engraved in a ring, and in those times people had not, as they have to-day, a light all ready in the pocket.

It was necessary therefore to postpone to some other time the examination of this evidence. The only course for the culprit to adopt was to seek, not to avoid, a duel. What he dreaded was that they would deny him that honorable chance of escape, and that he would be made a prisoner of the marquis or of the provincial authorities.

He hurriedly led Guillaume aside and said to him, with a forced laugh:

"I am fairly caught. I attempted to be good-natured, as you requested, in order to put an end to the discussion and to get rid of this old lunatic. I said everything that he tried to make me say, and now his caprice is taking another flight, in which I cannot follow it. It is all my fault; I ought to have told you, immediately on leaving his house, that he has been mad for two days; witness the fact that he asked for Madame de Beuvre's hand yesterday, as others can tell you, and that all this day he has been inventing the most extraordinary fables concerning his brother's death, taking sometimes me, sometimes his mute, sometimes his little dog for the murderer. I was unable to avoid coming to blows with him except by inventing tales which served as small change for his; but he did not calm down until you arrived."

"Why didn't you tell me all this?" exclaimed Guillaume.

"I did not wish to complain of the vexations I had endured in his company; you would have thought that I meant to reproach you for leaving me there. Now, there is only one way to have done with it. Let me fight With him."

"With an old man and a madman? I cannot permit it."

"Come, come, Guillaume," exclaimed Bois-Doré, impatiently, "are you ready now to let me avenge my wrongs, and must I do Monsieur d'Alvimar the honor of striking him, in order to rouse him?"

"We are at your service, monsieur," replied D'Alvimar, shrugging his shoulders. "Come, my dear fellow," he said in a low tone to Guillaume, "you see that it must be! Don't be afraid! I will soon bring this old automaton to reason, and I promise you to strike his sword out of his hand as many times as you please. I will undertake to tire him out so effectually that he will want to hurry home and go to bed, and to-morrow we will laugh over the adventure."

Guillaume was reassured by his merriment.

"I am glad to find you in the proper mood," he said in an undertone, "and I warn you that in putting forth your skill with yonder old man, you would not act a gallant part, and would cause me great pain. I believe that he is mad, but that is an additional reason for using your science with moderation and sending him home with no greater hurt than lame muscles."

Guillaume knew, however, that Bois-Doré was very strong in fencing, But his was an antiquated method which younger men disdained, and he knew, also, that while the marquis's wrist was still supple, he was not firm enough on his legs to hold out more than two or three minutes. Moreover, D'Alvimar was exceedingly expert; so he constantly exhorted him to magnanimity.

The champions having dismounted, the servants were left in the road to watch the horses and the prisoner, Sancho, whom Guillaume ordered them not to set free until the duel was at an end, in order that the difficulties of the situation might not be complicated by unexpected interference from any quarter.

Sancho was very desirous to be at liberty. He felt that he might be useful to his master, as he never recoiled from the most difficult undertaking; but he was too proud to complain and cry out. He remained silent and stoical under guard of Bois-Doré's servants.

While Guillaume, with the two adversaries, was seeking a suitable spot between the road and the boulders, Adamas and Aristandre were engaged in an animated whispered colloquy. Aristandre was desperate, Adamas was in a state of feverish excitement; but the idea that his master might fall a victim to his own generous behavior never entered his head. He was drunk, as it were, in his confidence in the marquis's strength and skill.

"Why do you tremble like a child?" he asked the coachman. "Don't you know that monsieur is capable of eating up thirty-six fellows like this coxcomb of a Spaniard? Nothing but treachery could overcome such a valiant man as he is; but the knave Sancho is carefully guarded, and Monsieur Guillaume and I will have an eye to everything. Am I not a second? Monsieur said so. You heard him. We are two honorable seconds, and we will not allow a thrust or a parry that isn't within the rules."

"But you know no more than I do about the rules of duels between gentlemen! Look you, I have a mind to climb up yonder without anyone seeing me, and, if the Spaniard has too much luck, roll one of those big stones down on him."

"As to that, if I could be sure that you wouldn't crush monsieur with him, I wouldn't advise you not to do it, any more than I would think it was a crime to put two bullets into his head myself, if I wasn't a second. But my master is calling me. Don't you be afraid, all will go well!"

Meanwhile the ground was chosen, a clear space of sufficient size, well lighted by the moon. The swords were measured, Guillaume performing the functions of second impartially for both champions, who had sworn to rely upon him; for Adamas's presence could be only a matter of form.

The duel began.

Thereupon, despite his confidence and his enthusiasm, Adamas felt a cold shudder run through every limb. He became dumb; with his mouth wide open, his eyes starting from his head, he was unconscious of the perspiration and the tears that rolled down his laughable yet touching face.

Guillaume too had done his utmost to persuade himself that the results of that strange combat could not be serious. But when the swords met, his confidence vanished, and he blamed himself for not having prevented, at any price, a meeting which, from the outset, threatened to have serious consequences.

D'Alvimar had promised to place his adversary at his mercy and to spare his life; but, in so far as the moonlight enabled him to distinguish his expression, it seemed to Guillaume that rage and hate were exhibited therein with increasing intensity, and his sharp, close sword-play gave no indication of prudence or of generous purpose. Luckily the marquis was still calm and held his ground with more endurance and elasticity than could have been expected.

Guillaume could say nothing, and contented himself with coughing two or three times, to warn D'Alvimar to show more moderation, without arousing the sensibility of the marquis, who might have lost his head altogether, if he had suspected that he was not taken seriously.

XXXIII

In proportion as conviction entered his mind, Guillaume became expansive and friendly with the marquis, no less from a sense of natural equity than from an inborn tendency to be governed absolutely by his latest impression.

"By my soul!" he said, when they were near the town, "you have acted like a gallant man, and the blow that you dealt him, which nailed him to the turf, was one of the most beautiful sword thrusts that I have ever heard of. I have never seen its like, and when you have proved to me that poor Sciarra was such a vile wretch as you say, I shall not be sorry to have seen this one. If I had been less pained, I would have congratulated you upon it. But whatever regret or satisfaction I may feel because of this death I declare that you are a superb swordsman, and I would that I were your equal at that sport!"

Our two cavaliers were already on the Pont des Scabinats—now des Cabignats,—riding toward the gate in the fortifications, when Adamas, who had recovered his courage and had duly reflected, overtook them and begged them to listen to him.

"Do you not think, messires," he said, "that the bringing-in of this body will cause a great commotion in the town?"

"Even so," said the marquis, "do you suppose that I wish to conceal the fact that I have avenged my honor and my brother's death?"

"True, monsieur, you may well boast of it as a noble deed, but not until the body has been consigned to the earth; for in these small places a great noise is often made over a small matter, and the spectacle of a gentleman carried across his horse in this way will make these bourgeois of La Châtre open their eyes. You have enemies, monsieur, and at the present moment Monseigneur de Condé is a very devout Catholic. If he should learn that this Spaniard was covered with strings of beads and blessed relics, that he had confessed to Monsieur Poulain, whose housekeeper is lauding him to the skies in the village of Briantes as a perfect Christian——"

"Well, well, what are you coming at with your old woman's gossip, my dear Adamas?" said the marquis, impatiently.

Guillaume interposed.

"Cousin," he said, "Adamas is right. The laws against the duello are respected by nobody; but evil-minded persons can invoke them at any moment. This D'Alvimar had some powerful friends in Paris; and unfriendly reports may, at one time or another, cause this to be used against you and me, especially against you, who are not esteemed a very ardent Catholic. Take my advice therefore, and let us not go into the town but decide upon some other means of ridding ourselves of this dead man. You are sure of your people and I can answer for mine. Let us have no confidants among the churchmen and bourgeois of a small town, all of whom, in this province, are very bitter against men who have opposed the League and served under the late king."

"There is much truth in what you say," replied Bois-Doré; "but it is most distasteful to me to tie a stone around a dead man's neck and toss him into the river like a dog."

"Why, monsieur," said Adamas, "that man was worth less than any dog!"

"That is true, my friend; I thought so myself an hour ago; but I have no hatred for a corpse."

"Very good, monsieur," said Adamas, "I have an idea which will make everything all right; if we retrace our steps, we shall find within a hundred yards, near the Chambon meadow, the gardener's cottage."

"What gardener? Marie la Caille-Bottée?"

"She is very devoted to monsieur, and they say that she was not always pock-marked."

"Tush, tush! Adamas, this is no time for jesting!"

"I am not jesting, monsieur, and I say that that old woman will keep our secret faithfully."

"And you propose to disturb her peace of mind by carrying a dead man to her? She will die of fright!"

"No, monsieur, for she is not alone in her little isolated cottage. I will take my oath that we shall find a good Carmelite there, who will give the Spanish gentleman Christian burial in a grave somewhere on the gardener's premises."

"You are too much of a Huguenot, Adamas," said Monsieur d'Ars. "The Carmelites are not such dissolute fellows as you imply."

"I say no evil of them, messire; I am speaking of a single one, whom I know, and who has nothing of the monk except the frock and the paternosters. It is Jean le Clope, who followed monsieur le marquis to the war, and for whom monsieur le marquis procured admission to the convent as a disabled veteran."

"On my word, this is excellent advice," said the marquis.

"Jean le Clope is a reliable man, and he has seen too many bloodless faces lying on the ground on battlefields to take fright at the task we propose to entrust to him."

"Let us make haste then," said Monsieur d'Ars, "for my steward is dying, as you know, and I would like to see him if it is not too late."

"Go, cousin," said the marquis. "Attend now to your own affairs; this concerns me and me alone henceforth!"

They shook hands. Guillaume joined his escort and rode away with them toward his château. The marquis and Adamas halted at La Caille-Bottée's cottage, where they did in fact find Jean le Clope, who warmly greeted his patron, calling him his captain.

As is well known, the convents were compelled to take charge of soldiers disabled in the service of the king or of the lord of the province. Most of the religious communities were bound by contract to receive and support these relics of the calamities of war, who were sometimes too fond of high living for pious recluses, sometimes much less corrupt than the monks themselves. However it may have been with the Carmelites of La Châtre, with whose history we are not here concerned, the secular brother Jean le Clope was but little hampered by the rules of the community, and, if he was not missing at meal hours, he was often missing at curfew.

While the marquis was explaining what he expected from his devotion and discretion, Adamas superintended the bringing of the body into the lonely house, and, a quarter of an hour later, Bois-Doré and his attendants rode homeward by way of La Rochaille.

They found Aristandre and his comrades profoundly disappointed at their inability to discover what had become of Sancho.

"Well, monsieur," said Adamas, "perhaps God wills it so! That villain will be very careful never to appear in a neighborhood where he knows that he is unmasked, and he would have been a source of fresh embarrassment to you."

"I confess that I have little taste for executions when my excitement has subsided," replied Bois-Doré, "and that I should have avoided witnessing that one. If I had turned him over to the provost, I should have been obliged to say what I had done with his master, and, as we must keep quiet on that point for the moment, it is all for the best. I consider my dear Florimond's death sufficiently avenged, although the Moor did not see which of the two, the master or the servant, dealt the blow that ended his poor life; but in affairs of this sort, Adamas, the most guilty, perhaps the real culprit, is he who directs it. The servant sometimes deems it his duty to obey a wicked order, and this fellow evidently did not act on his own account or profit by my brother's wealth, since he has remained a servant as before."

Adamas did not share the longing to be indulgent which the marquis experienced after his outburst of energy. He hated Sancho even more bitterly than D'Alvimar, because of his arrogant manner toward his equals, and because of his wariness, in which he had been unable to find any flaw. He considered him quite capable of having advised and executed the crime, but the thing that he dreaded more than all else was the possible persecution of the marquis; so he assisted him to deceive himself concerning the importance of the capture which he was compelled to renounce.

When they reached the gate of the manor of Briantes, they heard the irregular galloping of a riderless horse. It proved to be Sancho's, which had returned to its lost stable. He exchanged a plaintive, almost funereal neigh with D'Alvimar's steed, which a servant was leading by the rein.

"These poor creatures feel the disasters that befall their masters, so it is said," observed the marquis to Adamas: "they are intelligent beasts and live in a state of innocence. For that reason I shall not have these two killed; but as I do not choose to have anything on my estate that ever belonged to that D'Alvimar, and as the price of his property would soil our hands, I propose that they shall be taken ten or twelve leagues away to-morrow night and set at liberty. Whoever will may reap the benefit."

"And in that way," said Adamas, "no one will know where they come from. You can entrust Aristandre with that mission, monsieur. He will not yield to the temptation to sell them for his own benefit, and, if you take my advice, you will let him start at once, and not take them into the courtyard. It is useless to allow these horses to be seen in your stable to-morrow."

"Do what you choose, Adamas," replied the marquis. "I am reminded that that miserable wretch must have had money upon him, and that I should have remembered to take it and give it to the poor."

"Let the lay brother have the benefit of it, monsieur," said the shrewd Adamas; "the more he finds in the dead man's pockets, the better assured you will be of his silence."

It was eleven o'clock when the marquis returned to his salon. Jovelin rushed forward and threw his arms about him. His face sufficiently indicated the agonizing anxiety he had felt.

"My dear friend," said Bois-Doré, "I deceived you; but rejoice, that man is no more; and I return with a light heart. Doubtless my child is asleep at this moment; let us not wake him. I will tell you——"

"The child is not asleep," the mute replied with his pencil. "He divined my apprehensions: he is crying and praying and tossing about in his bed."

"Let us go and comfort the dear heart!" cried Bois-Doré; "but look at me first, my friend, and see if I have no stain on my clothes made by that treacherous blood. I do not wish that the child should know fear or hatred at an age too early for the calmness of conscious strength."

Lucilio relieved the marquis of his cloak, his helmet and his arms, and when they had ascended the stairs they found Mario, barefooted, at the door of his chamber.

"Ah!" cried the child, clinging passionately to his uncle's long legs, and speaking to him with the familiarity which he did not as yet know to be contrary to the customs of the nobility, "so you have come back at last? You are not hurt, my dear uncle? No one has hurt you, eh? I thought that that wicked man meant to kill you, and I wanted to run after you! I was very unhappy! Another time, when you go out to fight, you must take me, since I am your nephew."

"My nephew! my nephew! that is not enough," said the marquis taking him back to his bed. "I mean to be your father. Will that displease you, to be my son? And, by the way," he added, stooping to receive little Fleurial's caresses, who seemed to have realized and shared the distress of Jovelin and Mario, "here is a little friend of mine who no longer belongs to me. Here, Mario, you were so anxious to have him! I give him to you to console you for your unhappiness this evening."

"Yes," said Mario, putting Fleurial beside him on his pillow, "I consent, on condition that he is to belong to us both, and is to love us both alike. But tell me, father, has the wicked man gone away forever?"

"Yes, my son, forever."

"And the king will punish him for killing your brother?"

"Yes, my son, he will be punished."

"What will they do to him?" inquired Mario, thoughtfully.

"I will tell you later, my son. Think only how happy we are to be together."

"They will never take me away from you?"

"Never!"

"Master Jovelin," he said, addressing the mute, "is it not a melancholy thing to think of changing this child's sweet mode of speech, which strikes so melodiously upon the ear? Nay, we will allow him to use the familiar form of address to me in private, since in his mouth that familiarity is a sign of affection."

"Must I say vous to you?" queried Mario in amazement.

"Yes, my child, at least before other people. That is the custom."

"Ah! yes, that is how I spoke to Monsieur l'Abbé Anjorrant! But I love you more than I loved him."

"So you love me already, Mario? I am very glad! But how does it happen? You do not know me yet."

"No matter, I love you."

"And you do not know why?"

"Yes I do! I love you because I love you."

"My friend," said the marquis to Lucilio, "there is nothing so lovely and so lovable as childhood! It speaks as the angels must speak among themselves, and its reasons, which are no reasons, are worth more than all the wisdom of older heads. You must teach this cherub for me. You must fashion for him a noble brain like your own; for I am only an ignorant creature and I wish him to know much more than I do. The times are not so wholly given up to civil war as they were in my youth, and I think that gentlemen should turn their thoughts toward the enlightenment of the mind. But try to let him retain the pretty simple ways that he owes to his life among the shepherds. In truth he is my ideal of the lovely children who play among the flowers on the enchanted banks of the Lignon with its transparent waves."

The marquis, having received from the hands of Adamas a cordial to refresh him after the exertions of the evening, went to bed and slept soundly, the happiest of men.

At a time when, in default of regular legal processes, people were accustomed to take the law into their own hands, and when a suggestion of pardon would have been considered blameworthy and cowardly weakness, the marquis, although far more disposed than most of his contemporaries to display great gentleness in all his dealings, thought that he had performed the most sacred of duties, and therein he followed the ideas and usages in vogue when chivalry was in its prime.

Certainly in those days it would have been impossible to find one gentleman in a thousand who would not have deemed himself possessed of the right to put to death by torture, or at least to order hanged before his eyes, a guilty wretch like D'Alvimar, and who would not have censured or ridiculed the excessively romantic sense of honor which Bois-Doré had displayed in his duel.

Bois-Doré was well aware of it and was not disturbed by the knowledge. He had three reasons for being what he was: first of all his instinct, next the example of humanity set by Henri IV, who was one of the first men of his time to express disgust at the shedding of blood without peril to him who shed it. Henri III, when mortally wounded by Jacques Clement, was so upborne by rage and thirst for vengeance that he was able himself to strike his assassin, and to look on with joy when he was thrown from the window; when Henri IV was wounded in the face by Chastel, his first impulse was to say: "Let that man go!"—And thirdly, Bois-Doré's religious code was found in the acts and exploits of the heroes of Astrée.

In that ideal romance, it was without example that an honorable knight should avenge love, honor or friendship without exposing himself to the greatest dangers. We must not laugh too much at Astrée; indeed the popularity of the book is most interesting to observe. Amid the sanguinary villainies of civil discords, it is a cry of humanity, a song of innocence, a dream of virtue ascending heavenward.

XXXIV

The marquis's first thought on waking was for his heir, whom, to conform to the title which was finally adopted, we will call his son.

He recalled somewhat confusedly the events of that agitated night, but he recalled perfectly the great questions of dress that had been raised the day before in connection with his dear Mario. He called him in order to resume the interview they had begun in the treasure-room. But he received no reply and was beginning to be anxious, when the child, who had waked and risen before dawn, came in and threw his arms about his neck, all redolent with the fresh fragrance of the morning.

"Where have you been so early, my young friend?" inquired the old man.

"Father," replied Mario, gayly, "I have been to see Adamas, who has forbidden me to tell you a secret that we have between us. Don't ask me what it is; we are going to give you a surprise."

"Very good, my son; I will ask no questions. I like to be surprised. But aren't we going to breakfast together on this little table by my bed?"

"I haven't time, little father! I must go back to Adamas, who says that he begs you to go to sleep for another hour unless you want to spoil everything."

The marquis did his best to go to sleep again, but to no purpose. He was disturbed about many things. Madame de Beuvre was to come early on that day with her father; Guillaume, too, in case his steward should be better. Had suitable arrangements been made for the dinner? and could Mario properly be presented to a lady in the costume of a mountain shepherd? And, then, the poor child did not even know how to bow, to kiss a lady's hand, or say a word or two of flattery? Would not all his beauty, all his fascinating ways be ridiculed and treated with contempt by those who were not blinded by the voice of blood?

Moreover, no adequate preparations had been made for the hunting party. He had had too much excitement and anxiety to give any thought to that.

"If Adamas, who is never at a loss, were only here, he would console me," thought the marquis.

But so great was his consideration for his faithful servant that he would have pretended to sleep all day, if Adamas had demanded it.

He remained in bed until nine o'clock, but no one came to his relief; and, as hunger and uneasiness began to make a serious impression upon him, he determined to rise.

"What is Adamas thinking about?" he said to himself. "My guests will soon be here. Does he want them to surprise me in my dressing-gown and with this sallow face?"

At last Adamas entered the room.

"Oh! set your mind at rest, monsieur!" he exclaimed. "Do you think me capable of forgetting you? There is no hurry. You will have no company until two o'clock this afternoon; Madame de Beuvre has just sent word to me to that effect."

"To you, Adamas?"

"Yes, monsieur, to me, for I devised the scheme of sending a messenger to her to say that you had a great surprise in store for her, but that nothing was ready. I took all the blame on myself, and I humbly requested her not to arrive before the hour I have mentioned, adding that you desired to keep her here to-night, with monsieur her father, and not to offer her the diversion of hunting until to-morrow."

"What have you done, villain? She will think me insane or uncivil."

"No, monsieur, she took the thing very well, saying that everything that you did was certain to prove your wisdom or your gallantry."

"In that case, my friend, we must think seriously——"

"About nothing, monsieur, nothing at all, I beseech you. You did enough with your brain and your sword last night; for what purpose can God have placed poor Adamas on earth if not to spare you all anxiety about the details of simple matters?"

"Alas! my friend, it will not be easy—not possible even—in so short a time, to make my heir presentable?"

"Do you think so, monsieur?" said Adamas, with an indescribable smile of satisfaction. "I would like to see the thing that you desire that is not possible! Yes, indeed, I would! I would like to see it! But permit me to ask you, monsieur, how your heir is to be announced when he enters the salon?"

"That is a very grave question, my friend; I have already been thinking of the name and title the dear child should bear. Neither his father nor mine was a man of quality; but as I propose to provide for his succession to my title by the proper process and by obtaining the king's consent, if necessary, I think that I can bestow upon him, in anticipation, the title that my own son would have. Therefore, in my house he will be called monsieur le comte."

"There can be no doubt about the propriety of that, monsieur! But the name? Do you propose to call him plain Bouron, that poor child who deserves so well to bear a more illustrious name?"

"Understand, Adamas, that I do not blush for my father's name, and that that name, which was borne by my brother, will always be dear to me. But as I am much more attached to the name that my king gave me, I propose that Mario, also, shall bear it, and shall be Bouron de Bois-Doré, which, by the customary abbreviation, will become plain Bois-Doré."

"That is what I intended to suggest! Come, monsieur, dress yourself and eat your breakfast here in your bedroom with the child, for the hall below is in the hands of my decorators; then I will make your toilet. But you must wear to-day the clothes that I ask you to put on."

"Do what you please, Adamas, as you are responsible for everything!"

While eating and laughing and talking with his heir, honest Sylvain suddenly fell into profound melancholy. He succeeded in concealing it from the boy. But when Adamas, declaring that everything was going satisfactorily, came to make him up for the day, he opened his heart to him, while the child played about the château.

"My poor friend," he said, "I am amazed that the numes célestes, who have watched over me with such paternal care of late, have allowed me none the less to become involved in a terrible embarrassment."

"What embarrassment, monsieur?"

"Have you already forgotten, Adamas, that I offered my heart and my life to a beautiful enchantress on the morning of the very day when I found Mario? Now, as she did not reject, but simply postponed my offer, the result is that I run the risk—according to you!—of having other heirs than this child, to whom I would gladly devote my life and bequeath my property."

"The devil! monsieur, I did not think of that! But do not be disturbed! As it was I who put the fatal plan into your mind, it is for me to find you a way out of the dilemma. I will think about it, monsieur, I will think about it! Don't forget to beautify yourself and to make merry to-day."

"Indeed I will not. But what coat is that you are giving me, my friend!"

"Your coat à la paysanne, monsieur; it is one of the handsomest you have."

"In truth, I think it is the very handsomest; and it pains me to make myself so fine when my poor Mario——"

"Monsieur, monsieur, let me arrange everything; our Mario will be very presentable."

The marquis's "peasant" coat was white velvet and white satin, with a profusion of silver lace and magnificent ruffles. White was then the color of the peasants, who dressed in white linen or coarse fustian at all seasons; so that whenever a person was dressed all in white, that person was said to be dressed à la paysanne, and it was one of the most popular fashions.

The marquis was certainly very amusing in that dress; but everybody was so accustomed to see him disguised as a young man; he was tricked out from head to foot with such beautiful things and such curious baubles; his perfumes were so exquisite, and, in spite of everything, there was so much nobility in his elderly charms, and so much kindly amiability in his ways, that if people had found him suddenly transformed into the serious, methodical personage that his years would naturally import, they would have regretted the pleasure he gave the eyes and the satisfaction he was able to afford the mind.

About two o'clock a scullion, dressed in ancient feudal costume for the occasion, and stationed at the top of the entrance tower, blew a blast on an old horn to announce the approach of a cavalcade.

The marquis, accompanied by Lucilio, betook himself to that tower to receive the lady of his thoughts. He would have been glad to take his heir with him; but Mario was in Adamas's hands, and, moreover, it was part of a plan finally proposed by the latter, and adopted with some modifications by his master, that the child's appearance on the scene should be postponed until the conclusion of an explanation on a delicate subject with Madame de Beuvre.

XXXV

Lauriane arrived, riding a beautiful little white horse which her father had trained for her, and which she managed with remarkable grace.

Thanks to her mourning, which the fashion of that day permitted to be white, she, too, was dressed à la paysanne, with a habit of fine white broadcloth, a waist with stripes of silver lace, and a light lace handkerchief over the inevitable widow's cap.

"Well, well!" cried the downright De Beuvre, when he saw the marquis's costume, "so you have already assumed your lady's colors, my dear son-in-law?"

His daughter succeeded in making him hold his peace before the servants; but, when they were in the salon, despite the promise he had made her to refrain from all jesting on the subject, he could not contain himself, and asked with deep interest when the wedding was to be.

Instead of being annoyed or embarrassed, the marquis was exceedingly pleased at this opening, and requested a secret interview touching a matter of great gravity.

The valets were dismissed, the doors closed, and Bois-Doré, kneeling at dear little Lauriane's feet, addressed her in these terms:

"Queen of youth and beauty, you see at your feet a loyal servant whom a most momentous event has filled with pleasure and embarrassment, with joy and grief, with hope and fear. When, two days since, I offered my heart, my name and my fortune to the most amiable of nymphs, I deemed myself unfettered by any other duty or attachment. But——"

Here the marquis was interrupted.

"Gadzooks! monsieur my son-in-law," cried De Beuvre, affecting violent indignation and rolling his eyes fiercely, "you make sport of us, do you, and think that I am a man to allow you to retract your word after you have transfixed my poor child's heart with the deadly shaft of love?"

"Oh! hush, pray, my dear father!" said Lauriane, smilingly and sweetly; "you compromise me. Luckily I can be certain that the marquis will not believe me to be so capricious that, after I have asked him for seven years for reflection, I can be already so eager to summon him to keep his word."

"Allow me to speak," said the marquis, taking Lauriane's hand in his. "I know, my sovereign, that you have no love in your heart, and it is that which gives me the courage to crave your pardon. And do you, my dear neighbor, laugh with all your strength, for there is abundant occasion. And I will laugh with you to-day, although yesterday I shed many tears."

"Really, my good neighbor?" said honest De Beuvre, taking his other hand. "If you are speaking as seriously as you seem to be, I will laugh no more. Have you any trouble of which we can assist to relieve you?"

"Tell us, my dear Celadon," added Lauriane, affectionately, "tell us your sorrows!"

"My sorrows are dispelled, and, if you allow me to retain your friendship, I am the most fortunate of men. Listen, my friends," he said, rising with some effort. "The day before yesterday you heard a prophecy made by people who were not really sorcerers: 'Within three days, three weeks, or three months, you will be a father?'"

"Even so," said De Beuvre, recurring to his jesting humor; "do you believe that the prophecy will be fulfilled?"

"It is fulfilled, my good neighbor. I am a father, and it is no longer for myself that I ask, from you and the divine Lauriane, seven years of hope and sincere affection: but for my heir, my only son, for——"

At that moment the folding-doors were thrown open, and Adamas, arrayed in state, announced in a ringing voice and with an air of triumph:

"Monsieur le Comte Mario de Bois-Doré!"

Everybody was surprised; for the marquis did not expect his son to appear so soon, and he did not know what sort of costume they would succeed in arranging for him.

What was his joy when he saw that Mario also was dressed à la paysanne, that is to say in a costume exactly similar in material and cut to that which he himself wore; the satin doublet with innumerable little slashes on the arms; the colletin sans ailerons, or shoulder cape without flowing sleeves, of white velvet slashed with silver; the full trunk hose, four ells in width, gathered below the knee, fastened with pearl buttons, and open a little at the side to show the rose-shaped buckle of the garter; silk-stockings, and shoes à pont-levis, fastened with buckles in the shape of roses; the ruff à confusion, that is to say of several rows of unequal size, with tucks of varied patterns; the plumed hat, diamonds everywhere, a little baldric all studded with pearls, and a tiny rapier which was a veritable chef-d'œuvre!