worked painfully. There was at first a fury in Doltaire's face and
a metallic hardness in his eyes, and I was sure he meant to pass
his sword through the other's body; but after standing for a moment,
death hanging on his sword-point, he quietly lowered his weapon,
and, sitting on a chair-arm, looked curiously at Voban, as one
might sit and watch a mad animal within a cage. Voban did not stir,
but stood rooted to the spot, his eyes, however, never moving
from Doltaire. It was clear that he had looked for death, and now
expected punishment and prison. Doltaire took out his handkerchief
and wiped a sweat from his cheeks. He turned to me soon, and said,
in a singularly impersonal way, as though he were speaking of some
animal:

"He had great provocation. The Duchess de Valois had a young panther
once which she had brought up from the milk. She was inquisitive,
and used to try its temper. It was good sport, but one day she
took away its food, gave it to the cat, and pointed her finger at
monsieur the panther. The Duchess de Valois never bared her breast
thereafter to an admiring world--a panther's claws leave scars." He
paused, and presently continued: "You remember it, Voban; you were
the Duke's valet then--you see I recall you! Well, the panther lost
his head, both figuratively and in fact. The panther did not mean to
kill, maybe, but to kill the lady's beauty was death to her....
Voban, yonder spear was poisoned!"

He wiped his face, and said to me, "I think you saw that at the
dangerous moment I had no fear; yet now when the game is in my own
hands, my cheek runs with cold sweat. How easy to be charged with
cowardice! Like evaporation, the hot breath of peril passing
suddenly into the cold air of safety leaves this!"--he wiped his