“Mr. Aycon,” he said, in the smoother tones in which he had begun our curious interview, “I came near a little while ago to doing a ruffianly thing, of a sort I am not wont to do. We must fight out our quarrel in the proper way. Have you any friends in the neighborhood?”

“I am quite unknown,” I answered.

He thought for an instant, and then continued:

“There is a regiment quartered at Pontorson, and I have acquaintances among the officers. If agreeable to you, we will drive over there; we shall find gentlemen ready to assist us.”

“You are determined to fight?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, with a snap of his lips. “Have we not matters enough and to spare to fight about?”

“I can’t of course deny that you have a pretext.”

“And I, Mr. Aycon, know that I have also a cause. Will this morning suit you?”

“It is hard on two now.”

“Precisely. We have time for a little rest; then I will order the carriage and we will drive together to Pontorson.”

“You mean that I should stay in your house?”

“If you will so far honor me. I wish to settle this affair at once, so as to be moving.”

“I can but accept.”

“Indeed you could hardly get back to Avranches, if, as I presume, you came on foot. Ah! you’ve never told me why you wished to