"M.de Wardes," said Buckingham, "one final word.I am about to fight you because I do not like you, -- because you have wounded me in ridiculing a certain devotional regard I have entertained, and one which I acknowledge that, at this moment, I still retain, and for which I would very willingly die.You are a bad and heartless man, M.de Wardes, and Iwill do my very utmost to take your life; for I feel assured that, if you survive this engagement, you will, in the future, work great mischief towards my friends.That is all I have to remark, M.de Wardes," concluded Buckingham, as he saluted him.
"And I, my lord, have only this to reply to you: I have not disliked you hitherto, but, since you give me such a character, I hate you, and will do all I possibly can to kill you; "and De Wardes saluted Buckingham.
Their swords crossed at the same moment, like two flashes of lightning on a dark night.The swords seemed to seek each other, guessed their position, and met.Both were practiced swordsmen, and the earlier passes were without any result.
The night was fast closing in, and it was so dark that they attacked and defended themselves almost instinctively.
Suddenly De Wardes felt his sword arrested, -- he had just touched Buckingham's shoulder.The duke's sword sunk as his arm was lowered.
"You are wounded, my lord," said De Wardes, drawing back a step or two.
"Yes, monsieur, but only slightly."
"Yet you quitted your guard."
"Only from the first effect of the cold steel, but I have recovered.Let us go on, if you please." And disengaging his sword with a sinister clashing of the blade, the duke wounded the marquis in the breast.
"A hit?" he said.
"No," cried De Wardes, not moving from his place.
"I beg your pardon, but observing that your shirt was stained ---- " said Buckingham.
"Well," said De Wardes furiously, "it is now your turn."And with a terrible lunge, he pierced Buckingham's arm, the sword passing between the two bones.Buckingham, feeling his right arm paralyzed, stretched out his left, seized his sword, which was about falling from his nerveless grasp, and before De Wardes could resume his guard, he thrust him through the breast.De Wardes tottered, his knees gave way beneath him, and leaving his sword still fixed in the duke's arm, he fell into the water, which was soon crimsoned with a more genuine reflection than that which it had borrowed from the clouds.De Wardes was not dead; he felt the terrible danger that menaced him, for the sea rose fast.The duke, too, perceived the danger.With an effort and an exclamation of pain he tore out the blade which remained in his arm, and turning towards De Wardes said, "Are you dead, marquis?""No," replied De Wardes, in a voice choked by the blood which rushed from his lungs to his throat, "but very near it.""Well, what is to be done; can you walk?" said Buckingham, supporting him on his knee.