"I will seek him there." Before the servants he said, "Very well;" but secretly, he exclaimed: "Abominable impertinence! What! I am on horseback at the head of my troops, my life imperilled, and my son goes quietly to bed without even assuring himself of my safety!" He reached his son's room, but found the door closed and locked on the inside.

He rapped.
"Who is there ?" demanded Martial.
"It is I; open the door." Martial drew the bolt; M.de Sairmeuse entered, but the sight that met his gaze made him tremble.
Upon the table was a basin of blood, and Martial, with chest bared, was bathing a large wound in his right breast.
"You have been fighting!" exclaimed the duke, in a husky voice.
"Yes." "Ah! then you were, indeed----" "I was where?
what ?" "At the convocation of these miserable peasants who, in their parricidal folly, have dared to dream of the overthrow of the best of princes!" Martial's face betrayed successively profound surprise, and a more violent desire to laugh.
"I think you must be jesting, Monsieur," he replied.
The young man's words and manner reassured the duke a little, without entirely dissipating his suspicions.
"Then, these vile rascals attacked you ?" he exclaimed.
"Not at all.

I have been simply obliged to fight a duel." "With whom?
Name the scoundrel who has dared to insult you!" A faint flush tinged Martial's cheek; but it was in his usual careless tone that he replied: "Upon my word, no; I shall not give his name.

You would trouble him, perhaps; and I really owe the fellow a debt of gratitude.

It happened upon the highway; he might have assassinated me without ceremony, but he offered me open combat.