Amid the pleasant tumult the
three entered the hotel together, like people in a play.
As they were going up the stairs, Parpon whispered to the old soldier,
who laid his hand fiercely upon the fine sword at his side, given him
that morning by Valmond; for, looking down, Lagroin saw the young
Seigneur maliciously laughing at them, as if in delight at the mischief
he had caused.
That night, at nine o'clock, the old sergeant went to the Seigneury,
knocked, and was admitted to a room where were seated the young Seigneur,
Medallion, and the avocat.
"Well, General," said De la Riviere, rising with great formality, "what
may I do to serve you? Will you join our party?" He motioned to a chair.
The old man's lips were set and stern, and he vouchsafed no reply to the
hospitable request.
"Monsieur," he said, "to-day you threw dirt at my great master. He is of
royal blood, and he may not fight you. But I, monsieur, his General,
demand satisfaction--swords or pistols!"
De la Riviere sat down, leaned back in his chair, and laughed. Without a
word the old man stepped forward, and struck him across the mouth with
his red cotton handkerchief.
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