"Ah! it is he, really; it is Ernanton!" cried St. Maline. "I recognize his voice; but as to his person, devil take me if I can see it in this darkness."
"You do not reply to my question, monsieur," said Ernanton.
St. Maline began to laugh noisily, which reassured some of his comrades, who were thinking of retiring.
"I spoke; did you not hear me, M. de St. Maline?" said Ernanton.
"We wished to know, my dear friend, if it was you up here."
"Well, monsieur, now you know it, leave me in peace."
"Cap de Bious! have you become a hermit?"
"As for that, monsieur, permit me to leave you in doubt."
"Ah! bah!" cried St. Maline, trying to enter, "are you really alone? you have no light."
"Gentlemen!" said Ernanton, "I know that you are half drunk, and I forgive you; but there is a limit even to the patience that one owes to men beside themselves; your joke is over, do me the favor to retire."
"Oh! oh! retire! how you speak!" said St. Maline.
"I speak so as you may not be deceived in my wishes, and I repeat, gentlemen, retire, I beg."
"Not before we have been admitted to the honor of saluting the person for whom you desert our company. M. de Montcrabeau," continued he, "go down and come back with a light."
"M. de Montcrabeau," cried Ernanton, "if you do that, remember it will be a personal offense to me."
"Good," replied St. Maline, "we have our oath, and M. de Carmainges is so strict that he will not infringe discipline; we cannot draw our swords against each other; therefore, a light, Montcrabeau, a light!"
Montcrabeau descended, and in five minutes returned with a light, which he offered to St. Maline.
"No, no," said he; "keep it; I may, perhaps, want both hands."
"I take you all to witness," cried Ernanton, "that I am insulted without reason, and that in consequence"--and he drew his sword--"I will bury this sword in the breast of the first man who advances."
St. Maline, furious, was about to draw his sword also; but before he had time to do so, the point of Ernanton's was on his breast, and as he advanced a step, without Ernanton's moving his arm, St. Maline felt the iron on his flesh, and drew back furious, but Ernanton followed him, keeping the sword against his breast. St. Maline grew pale; if Ernanton had wished it, he could have pinned him to the wall, but he slowly withdrew his sword.