"Have no
fear. There shall be no duel!"
"Then I am content, monsieur, and you shall see your friend."
I thanked him, and we talked of other things thereafter as we rode
in the early morning along the Toulouse road. Our conversation
found its way, I scarce know how, to the topic of Paris and the
Court, and when I casually mentioned, in passing, that I was well
acquainted with the Luxembourg, he inquired whether I had ever
chanced to meet a young spark of the name of Mironsac.
"Mironsac?" I echoed. "Why, yes." And I was on the point of adding
that I knew the youth intimately, and what a kindness I had for him,
when, deeming it imprudent, I contented myself with asking, "You
know him?"
"Pardieu!" he swore. "The fellow is my cousin. We are both
Mironsacs; he is Mironsac of Castelvert, whilst I, as you may
remember I told you, am Mironsac of Castelroux. To distinguish us,
he is always known as Mironsac, and I as Castelroux. Peste! It is
not the only distinction, for while he basks in the sunshine of the
great world of Paris - they are wealthy, the Mironsacs of Castelvert
--I, a poor devil of a Gascony cadet, am playing the catchpoll in
Languedoc!"
I looked at him with fresh interest, for the mention of that dear
lad Mironsac brought back to my mind the night in Paris on which my
ill-starred wager had been laid, and I was reminded of how that
high-minded youth had sought - when it was too late to reason me out
of the undertaking by alluding to the dishonour with which in his
honest eyes it must be fraught.
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