The maid, whom he had so much admired, turned to her mistress with
a look of astonishment at his seeming indifference. Seeing this, Blaise
became very red in the face.
It was I who answered De Berquin, and with the words:
"And your servant, if you have one, has a most impudent master."
De Berquin turned pale with rage at the insulting allusion to his
somewhat indigent appearance.
"Your master shall answer for your impertinence!" he cried, drawing his
sword and making for Blaise.
In an instant my own sword was out, and I was barring his way.
"Let _us_ argue the matter, monsieur!" said I.
"_Peste_!" he hissed. "I fight not lackeys!"
"You will fight _me_," I said, "or leave the presence of this lady at
once!"
Impelled by uncontrollable wrath, he thrust at me furiously. With a
timely twist, I sent his sword flying from his hand to the door. I
motioned him to follow it.
Completely astonished, he obeyed my gesture, went and picked up his
sword, opened the door, and then turned to Blaise and spoke these words,
in a voice that trembled with rage:
"Monsieur, since you let your menial handle your sword for you, I cannot
hope for satisfaction. But though I am no great prophet, I can predict
that both you and your cur shall yet feel the foot of _my_ lackey on your
necks. And, mademoiselle," he added, removing his look to the lady, "this
is not the end of it with you!"
With which parting threats, he strode out of the inn, closing the door
after him.
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