“Count,” said Philippe, “I fear you are losing your senses.”
“You wish to kill M. de Cagliostro to please the queen; and, for the same reason, you wish to turn me into ridicule.”
“Ah! this is too much,” cried Philippe, “and proves to me that you have not as generous a heart as I thought.”
“Pierce it then,” cried Charny, exposing himself as Philippe made another pass.
The sword glanced along his ribs, and the blood flowed rapidly.
“At last,” cried Charny, “I am wounded. Now I may kill you if I can.”
“Decidedly,” said Philippe, “you are mad. You will not kill me—you will only be disabled without cause, and without profit; for no one will ever know for what you have fought;” and as Charny made another pass, he dexterously sent his sword flying from his hand; then, seizing it, he broke it across his foot. “M. de Charny,” said he, “you did not require to prove to me that you were brave; you must therefore detest me very much when you fight with such fury.”
Charny did not reply, but grew visibly pale, and then tottered.
Philippe advanced to support him, but he repulsed him, saying, “I can reach my carriage.”
“At least take this handkerchief to stop the blood.”
“And my arm, sir; at the least obstacle you met you would fall, and give yourself unnecessary pain.”
“The sword has only penetrated the skin. I hope soon to be well.”
“So much the better, sir; but I warn you, that you will find it difficult to make me your adversary again.”
Charny tried to reply, but the words died on his lips. He staggered, and Philippe had but just time to catch him in his arms, and bear him half fainting to his carriage.
Dauphin, who had seen what had passed, advanced to meet him, and they put Charny in.
“Drive slowly,” said Philippe, who then took his way back to Paris, murmuring to himself, with a sigh, “She will pity him.”
CHAPTER XXXII. THE HOUSE IN THE RUE ST. GILLES.
Philippe jumped into the first coach he saw, and told the man to drive to the Rue St. Gilles, where he stopped at the house of M. de Cagliostro.
A large carriage, with two good horses, was standing in the courtyard; the coachman was asleep, wrapped in a greatcoat of fox-skins, and two footmen walked up and down before the door.
“Does the Count Cagliostro live here?” asked Philippe.