Then after a moment's silence, turning gaily to Zerbinette, who was holding herself prudently aloof, the dowager added:
"That story of the osprey has recalled hundreds of other pleasant reminiscences. I've a great mind to amuse myself by writing my memoirs some day. They might serve both to instruct and edify my grandson," the octogenarian continued, with a hearty laugh, in which Zerbinette joined.
For several minutes the sound of their laughter could be distinctly heard as the two slowly wended their way down the path.
When the sound had entirely died away, Frederick, his face livid, his expression frightful to behold, emerged from the cave where he had heard every word of the conversation between the dowager-marquise and Zerbinette, and, gun in hand, hastened toward another part of the forest.
CHAPTER XIII
THE Vieille Coupe road, which Raoul de Pont Brillant would be obliged to take on his return from the Château de Montel homeward, was a sort of deep hollow way, with high banks covered with tall pine-trees, whose heads formed such an impenetrable dome that the light was dim there even at noontime, and at sunset it was so dark that two men who met there would not be able to distinguish each other's features.
It was about six o'clock in the evening when Raoul de Pont Brillant turned in this path, which seemed all the darker and more gloomy from the fact that the highway he had just left was still lighted by the rays reflected from the setting sun. He was alone, having sent his groom to the château to inform the marquise of his change of plans.
He had proceeded only twenty yards when his vision became sufficiently accustomed to the obscurity to enable him to distinguish a human being standing motionless in the middle of the road, a short distance in front of him.
"Hallo there, get to one side of the road or the other," he shouted.
"One word, M. le Marquis de Pont Brillant," responded a voice.
"What do you want?" asked Raoul, checking his horse and leaning over upon his saddle, in a vain effort to distinguish the features of his interlocutor. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"M. de Pont Brillant, did you receive a note this morning requesting you to meet some one at Grand Sire's Rock?"
"No; for I left Pont Brillant at eight o'clock; but once more, what does all this mean? Who the devil are you?"
"I am the writer of the letter sent you this morning."
"Ah, well, my friend, you can – "
"I am not your friend," interrupted the voice, "I am your enemy."
"What's that you say?" exclaimed Raoul, in surprise.
"I say that I am your enemy."
"Indeed!" retorted Raoul, in a half-amused, half-contemptuous tone, for he was naturally very brave. "And what is your name, Mister Enemy?"
"My name is a matter of no consequence."
"Probably not, but why the devil do you stop me in the road at nightfall, then? Ah, I remember you said you wrote to me."
"Yes."
"To tell me what?"
"That you were a coward if you – "
"Wretch!" exclaimed Raoul, starting his horse.
But Madame Bastien's son struck the horse in the head with the barrel of his gun, forcing him to stop.
Raoul, a trifle startled at first, but really curious to know what the stranger was coming at, calmed himself, and remarked, coldly:
"You did me the honour to write to me, you say?"
"Yes, to tell you that if you were not a coward, you would come to Grand Sire's Rock to-day with your gun loaded like mine."
"And may I ask what we were to do with our guns?"
"We were to place ourselves ten paces apart, and then fire at each other."
"And for what object may I ask?"
"So I would kill you or you would kill me."
"That would probably have been the case at that distance unless we were very poor shots. But if one is so anxious to kill people, one should at least tell me why."
"I want to kill you – because I hate you."
"Bah!"
"Do not sneer, M. de Pont Brillant, do not sneer."
"It is very difficult not to, but I'll try simply to oblige you. You hate me, you say, and why?"
"The cause of my hatred concerns you as little as my name."
"Do you really think so?"
"I do."
"Well, you hate me, you say? What of it?"
"You must kill me or I shall kill you."
"That seems to be a settled thing with you. Where are we to fight?"
"Here, right here and now."
"But it isn't light enough to see."
"There is no need of its being light enough to see."
"But what are we to fight with?"
"With my gun."
"One gun?"
"Yes."
"That's a strange idea. How are we to do it?"
"Get down off your horse."
"And after that?"
"Pick up a handful of stones out of the road."
"Stones! So it is with stones that we are going to fight. It reminds me of the famous battle between David and Goliath."
"I said that you were to pick up a handful of stones out of the road. The darkness will prevent you from counting the stones, and you will hold them in your closed hand. The one who guesses the number correctly is to have the gun. He will place it against the other's breast and fire. You see that no daylight is needed for that, M. de Pont Brillant."
Frederick's manner was so resolute and his voice so incisive that the young marquis, strange as the whole affair seemed to be, decided that the speaker was really in earnest; then, suddenly remembering a conversation that had taken place in his grandmother's drawing-room, he burst into a hearty laugh and exclaimed:
"This is a good joke, upon my word. I understand everything now."
"Explain, M. de Pont Brillant."
"Last night at the château they were all telling stories about robbers and midnight attacks, and they laughed about what I would do under such circumstances. I talked a little boastfully of my courage, I suppose, so they concocted this little scheme to test it, for they knew that I would have to pass through this road in returning from Montel. You can tell the persons that paid you to waylay me that I behaved myself very creditably, for, upon my word as a gentleman, I took the thing seriously at first. Good night, my worthy friend. Let me pass now, for it is getting late, and I shall scarcely have time to reach Pont Brillant and dress before dinner."
"This is no joke, M. de Pont Brillant, nor is it a test. You will not be allowed to pass, and you are going to get down off your horse."
"I have had enough of this, I tell you," exclaimed Raoul, imperiously. "You have earned your money. Now stand aside so I can pass."
"Dismount, M. de Pont Brillant, dismount, I say!"
"So much the worse for you, I'll ride right over you," cried Raoul, now thoroughly enraged.
And he urged his horse on.
But Frederick seized the horse by the bridle, and with a violent jerk forced the animal back upon its haunches.
"How dare you touch my horse, you scoundrel!" roared Raoul, raising his whip and striking at random, but the blow fell only upon empty air.
"I consider the blow and the insulting epithet received, M. de Pont Brillant, and now you will indeed be