“Presumptuous fellow yourself!” said D’Artagnan, also bending down on his horse’s neck and answering through the carriage window. “I do not go on because it pleases me to stop here.”

You might think that milady, timid as women are in general, would have interposed at this beginning of mutual provocations in order to prevent the quarrel from going too far; but, on the contrary, she threw herself back in her carriage, and called out coolly to the coachman, “Drive home!”

The pretty maid cast an anxious glance at D’Artagnan, whose good looks seemed to have produced an impression on her.

The carriage went on, and left the two men face to face, no material obstacle separating them any longer.

“Well, sir,” said D’Artagnan, “you appear to be more presumptuous that I am, for you forget there is a little quarrel to arrange between us.”

“You see well enough that I have no sword,” said the Englishman. “Do you wish to play the braggart with an unarmed man?”

“I hope you have a sword at home,” replied D’Artagnan. “But, at all events, I have two, and if you like I will throw with you for one of them.”

“Quite unnecessary,” said the Englishman; “I am well furnished with such sorts of playthings.”

“Very well, my worthy gentleman,” replied D’Artagnan; “pick out the longest, and come and show it to me this evening.”

“Where?”

“Behind the Luxembourg. That’s a charming place for such strolls as the one I propose to you.”

“Very well; I will be there.”

“Your hour?”

“Six o’clock. Now, then, who are you?” asked the Englishman.

“I am M. D’Artagnan, a Gascon gentleman, serving in the guards, in the company of M. des Essarts. And you?”

“I am Lord Winter, Baron of Sheffield.”

“Well, then, I am your servant, baron,” said D’Artagnan, “though your names are rather difficult to remember.”

And touching his horse with his spur, he galloped back to Paris.

And D’Artagnan employed himself in arranging a little plan, the carrying out of which we shall see later on, and which promised him an agreeable adventure, as might be seen by the smiles which from time to time passed over his countenance, lighting up his thoughtful expression.


  By PanEris using Melati.

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