As we have remarked before, Raoul was naturally brave; he was also as experienced in the ways of the world as most young men of twenty-five, so this time he answered very seriously and with remarkable good sense and firmness:
"You have charged me with cowardice, and you have grossly insulted me besides, so I tried to chastise you as one chastises a vagabond who insults you on a street corner. Unfortunately the darkness rendered my attempts futile, and you will be obliged to take the will for the deed. If this doesn't satisfy you, you know who I am and you can come to the Château de Pont Brillant to-morrow with two honourable men, if you know any, which I doubt very much, judging from your actions. These gentlemen can confer with the Vicomte de Marcilly and M. le Duc de Morville, my seconds. Your seconds will tell my seconds your name and the cause of the challenge you say you sent me this morning. These gentlemen will decide between them what should be done. I am perfectly willing to abide by their decision. That is the way such affairs are managed among well-bred people. As you don't know, I will endeavour to teach you."
"And you refuse to fight me here and now?"
"I do, most decidedly."
"Take care. Either you or I will remain here!"
"Then it will be you, so good night," said Raoul.
As he spoke he plunged his spurs into his horse's sides. The animal made a powerful spring forward, hurling Frederick to the ground.
When Madame Bastien's son, still stunned from his fall, staggered to his feet, he heard the sound of Raoul's horse's hoofs already dying away in the distance.
After a brief moment of stupor, Frederick uttered a cry of ferocious joy, and, picking up his gun, climbed one of the almost perpendicular banks on the side of the road with the aid of the pine saplings, and plunged headlong into the forest.
CHAPTER XIV
WHILE these events were transpiring in the forest of Pont Brillant, Madame Bastien was a prey to the most poignant anxiety. Faithful to the promise she had made Frederick the evening before, she waited until nearly one o'clock in the afternoon before entering her son's room. Believing he was still sleeping, she hoped he would derive much benefit from this restful slumber.
The young mother was in her chamber, which adjoined her son's room, listening every now and then for some sound that would seem to indicate that her son was awake, when Marguerite, their old servant, came in to ask for some instructions.
"Speak low, and close the door carefully," said Marie. "I don't want my son waked."
"M. Frederick, madame; why, he went out this morning at sunrise with his gun."
To rush into her son's bedroom was the work of only an instant.
Frederick was not there; his gun, too, was missing.
Several hours passed, but Frederick did not appear, and the light of the dull November day was already beginning to wane when Marguerite came running in.
"Madame, madame," she exclaimed, "here is Father André! He saw M. Frederick this morning."
"You saw my son this morning, André? What did he say to you? Where is he now?" cried Madame Bastien, eagerly.
"Yes, madame, M. Frederick came to me for some bullets about sunrise this morning."
"Bullets? What did he want of them?" asked the anxious mother, trying to drive away the horrible suspicion that had suddenly presented itself to her mind. "Did he want them for hunting?"
"Of course, madame; for M. Frederick told me that Jean François – you know Jean François, the farmer near Coudraie?"
"Yes, yes, I know; go on."
"It seems that Jean François told M. Frederick yesterday that a wild boar got into his garden a night or two ago, and ruined his potatoes; and M. Frederick told me he was going to station himself in a hiding-place that Jean François knew of, and kill the animal."
"But that is so dangerous," cried Madame Bastien. "Frederick never shot at a boar in his life. If he misses, he is sure to be killed."
"I don't think you need feel any anxiety, madame. M. Frederick is an excellent shot, and – "
"Then my son is at the farmer's house now, I suppose?"
"I presume so, as he is going with the farmer this evening."
A quarter of an hour afterward the young mother, panting and breathless, – for she had run every step of the way, – knocked at the door of the farmhouse, where Jean François and his wife and children were seated around the fire.
"Jean François, take me where my son is at once," cried Madame Bastien; then she added, reproachfully, "How could you allow a youth of his age to expose himself to such danger? But come, I entreat you, come, it may not be too late to prevent this imprudence on his part."
The farmer and his wife exchanged looks of profound astonishment, then Jean François said:
"Excuse me, madame, but I've no idea what you mean."
"Didn't you complain to my son last night of a wild boar that had been ravaging your garden?"
"Oh, the boars find so many nuts in the forest this year that they are not inclined to leave it. They have done us no damage up to the present time, thank Heaven."
"But you urged my son to come and take a shot at some boar."
"No, madame, no; I never even spoke of any boar to him."
Overcome with dread and consternation, Marie stood perfectly silent and motionless for a moment. At last she murmured:
"Frederick lied to André. And those bullets – my God! – those bullets, what did he intend to do with them?"
The honest farmer, seeing Madame Bastien's intense anxiety, and thinking to reassure her at least in a measure, said to her:
"I never said anything to M. Frederick about hunting boars, but if you want to find him, I think I know where he is."
"You have seen him, then?"
"Yes, madame. Madame knows that steep hill about a mile from the Vieille Coupe road, as you go to the château through the forest?"
"Yes, yes; what of it?"
"Why, just at dusk I was coming down that hill on my way home, when I saw M. Frederick come out of the forest and cross the road on the run."
"How long ago was this?"
"At least half an hour."
"Jean François, you are a good man. I am in great trouble. Take me to the place where you saw my son, I implore you," pleaded the young mother.
"I see what the trouble is, madame, and I don't know but you have good cause to feel anxious – "
"Go on – go on."
"Well, the fact is that you're afraid that M. Frederick may be caught poaching in the Pont Brillant woods. I feel in the same way, madame, and I honestly think we have reason to be alarmed, for the young marquis is bitter against poachers, and as jealous of his game as his deceased father used to be. His guards are always on the watch, and if they find M. Frederick poaching it will go hard with him."
"Yes, yes, that is what I am afraid of," replied Madame Bastien, quickly. "You see we haven't a minute to lose. Jean François, I must get my son away at any cost."
CHAPTER XV
WHEN Marie Bastien and her guide left the farmhouse they found that the fog had lifted, and that the moon was shining brightly.
A profound silence reigned.
Jean François strode on for a moment or two in silence, then, moderating his pace, he turned and said:
"Pardon, me, madame, I am going too fast, perhaps."
"Too fast? Oh, no, my friend, you cannot go too fast. Go on, go on, I can keep up with you."
Then, after they had walked a few minutes longer in silence, Marie asked:
"When