I am peculiarly
unhappy, in that my very triumphs have only made matters worse for
me--it would have been better far for me, and for all, if I had been
wounded, or even killed, in this last disastrous encounter, instead of
my rival and enemy, the young Duke of Vallombreuse."
"The de Sigognacs are never beaten," said the old retainer loftily. "No
matter what may come of it, I am glad, my dear young master, that you
killed that insolent duke. The whole thing was conducted in strict
accordance with the code of honour--what more could be desired? How
could any valiant gentleman object to die gloriously, sword in hand,
of a good, honest wound, fairly given? He should consider himself most
fortunate."
"Ah well! perhaps you are right--I will not dispute you," said de
Sigognac, smiling secretly at the old man's philosophy. "But I am very
tired, and would like to go to my own room now--will you light the lamp,
my good Pierre, and lead the way?"
Pierre obeyed, and the baron, preceded by his old servant and followed
by his old dog and cat, slowly ascended the ancient staircase. The
quaint frescoes were gradually fading, growing ever paler and more
indistinct, and there were new stains on the dull blue sky of the
vaulted ceiling, where the rain and melting snow of winter storms had
filtered through from the dilapidated roof.
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