THE COMBAT.
The place where this terrible combat was to take place was
sequestered and shaded by trees. It was generally frequented
only by children, who came to play there during the day, or by
drunkards or robbers, who made a sleeping-place of it by night.
Chicot, his heart palpitating, although he was not of a very
tender nature, seated himself before the lackeys and pages, on
a wooden balustrade.
He did not love the Angevins, and detested the minions, but they
were all brave young men, and in their veins flowed a generous
blood, which he was probably destined to see flow before long.
D’Epernon made a last bravado, “What! you are all afraid of me?”
he cried.
“Hold your tongue,” said Antragues.
“Come away, bravest of the brave,” said Chicot, “or else you will
lose another pair of shoes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that there will soon be blood on the ground, and that
you will walk in it, as you did last night.”
D’Epernon became deadly pale, and, moving away, he seated himself
at some distance from Chicot.
The combat began as five o’clock struck, and for a few minutes
nothing was heard but the clashing of swords; not a blow was
struck. At last Schomberg touched Ribeirac in the shoulder, and
the blood gushed out; Schomberg tried to repeat the blow, but
Ribeirac struck up his sword, and wounded him in the side.
“Now let us rest a few seconds, if you like,” said Ribeirac.
Quelus, having no dagger, was at a great disadvantage; for he
was obliged to parry with his left arm, and, as it was bare, on
each occasion it cost him a wound. His hand was soon bleeding
in several places, and Antragues had also wounded him in the
breast; but at each wound he repeated, “It is nothing.”
Livarot and Maugiron were still unwounded.
Ribeirac and Schomberg recommenced; the former was pierced through
the breast, and Schomberg was wounded in the neck.
Ribeirac was mortally wounded, and Schomberg rushed on him and gave
him another; but he, with his right hand, seized his opponent’s,
and with his left plunged his dagger into his heart.
Schomberg fell back, dragging Ribeirac with him. Livarot ran to
aid Ribeirac to disengage himself from the grasp of his adversary,
but was closely pursued by Maugiron, who cut open his head with a
blow of his sword. Livarot let his sword drop, and fell on his
knees; then Maugiron hastened to give him another wound, and
he fell altogether.
Quelus and Maugiron remained against Antragues. Quelus was bleeding,
but from slight wounds.
Antragues comprehended his danger; he had not the least wound,
but he began to feel tired, so he pushed aside Quelus’ sword and
jumped over a barrier; but at the same moment, Maugiron attacked
him behind; Antragues turned, and Quelus profited by this movement
to get under the barrier.
“He is lost!” thought Chicot.
“Vive le roi!” cried D’Epernon.
“Silence, if you please, monsieur,” said Antragues. At this instant
Livarot, of whom no one was thinking, rose on his knees, hideous
from the blood with which he was covered, and plunged his dagger
between the shoulders of Maugiron, who fell, crying out, “Mon
Dieu! I am killed!”
Livarot fell back again, fainting.
“M. de Quelus,” said Antragues, “you are a brave man; yield--I
offer you your life.”
“And why yield?”
“You are wounded, and I am not.”
“Vive le roi!” cried Quelus; “I have still my sword!” And he
rushed on Antragues, who parried the thrust, and, seizing his
arm, wrested his sword from him, saying, “Now you have it no
longer.”
“Oh, a sword!” cried Quelus; and, bounding like a tiger on Antragues,
he threw his arms round him.
Antragues struck him with his dagger again and again, but Quelus
managed to seize his hands, and twisted round him like a serpent,
with arms and legs. Antragues, nearly suffocated, reeled and
fell, but on the unfortunate Quelus. He managed to disengage
himself, for Quelus’ powers were failing him, and, leaning on
one arm, gave him a last blow.
“Vive le r----” said Quelus, and that was all. The silence and
terror of death reigned everywhere.
Antragues rose, covered with blood, but it was that of his enemy.
D’Epernon made the sign of the cross, and fled as if he were pursued
by demons.
Chicot ran and raised Quelus, whose blood was pouring out from
nineteen wounds.
The movement roused him, and he opened his eyes.
“Antragues,” said he, “on my honor, I am innocent of the death
of Bussy.”
“Oh! I believe you, monsieur,” cried Antragues, much moved.
“Fly!” murmured Quelus; “the king will never forgive you.”
“I cannot abandon you thus, even to escape the scaffold.”
“Save yourself, young man,” said Chicot; “do not tempt Providence
twice in one day.”
Antragues approached Ribeirac, who still breathed.
“Well?” asked he.
“We are victors,” said Antragues, in a low tone, not to offend
Quelus.
“Thanks,” said Ribeirac; “now go.”
And he fainted again.
Antragues picked up his own sword, which he had dropped, then
that of Quelus, which he presented to him. A tear shone in the
eyes of the dying man. “We might have been friends,” he murmured.
“Now fly,” said Chicot; “you are worthy of being saved.”
“And my companions?”
“I will take care of them, as of the king’s friends.”
Antragues wrapped himself in a cloak which his squire handed
to him, so that no one might see the blood with which he was
covered, and, leaving the dead and wounded, he disappeared through
the Porte St. Antoine.