It was the Vicomte de Berquin, and a triumphant smile was on his face.
Moved by the thought that mademoiselle's safety depended on me, I was
not ashamed, being unarmed, to turn about for immediate flight. But I had
no sooner shown my back to M. de Berquin, than I found myself face to
face with the scowling Barbemouche, who stood motionless, the point of
his sword not many inches from my breast.
CHAPTER XI.
HOW THE HERO GAVE HIS WORD AND KEPT IT
I stood still and reflected.
"You lack a weapon," said M. de Berquin, humorously. "I shall presently
give you mine, point first."
As I was still facing Barbemouche, I imagined the point of the Vicomte's
sword entering my back, and I will confess that I shivered.
"And I mine," growled Barbemouche. "Though you are a lackey and I a
gentleman, yet, by the grandmother of Beelzebub, I am glad to see you!"
"Indeed!" said I, whose only hope was to gain time for thought. "This is
a heartier welcome than a stranger might expect."
De Berquin laughed. Barbemouche said, "You are no stranger"
"Then you know me?" said I. "Who am I?"
"You are the answer to a prayer," said Barbemouche, with an ugly grin.
"You thought you fooled us finely last night, and that when you had made
a hole in my body you had done with me. But I got a look at you after the
mistake was discovered, and I vowed the virgin a dozen candles in return
for another meeting with you.
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