“Always the gallant and victorious adversary salutes the vanquished as you, fair lady, have saluted me — imputing to my insignificant prowess the very skill and address which has overthrown me.”

“Are you overthrown?”

“Prone in the dust, mademoiselle! Draw Mr. Loskiel’s knife and end me now in mercy.”

“Then I will strike� . Who is the handsome wench who passed us but a moment since, and who looked at you with her very heart trembling in her eyes?”

“How should I know?”

They stood looking smilingly at each other; and their smile did not seem quite genuine to me, but too clear, and a trifle hard, as though somehow it