“But, you mean, we are still upon soil which is part of the
king’s territory.”
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“Exactly.”
“Well, do you see yonder a kind of little island surrounded
by a circle of water? The pool is increasing every minute,
and the isle is gradually disappearing. This island, indeed,
belongs to Heaven, for it is situated between two seas, and
is not shown on the king’s charts. Do you observe it?”
“Yes; but we can hardly reach it now, without getting our
feet wet.”
“Yes; but observe that it forms an eminence tolerably high,
and that the tide rises on every side, leaving the top free.
We shall be admirably placed upon that little theatre. What
do you think of it?”
“I shall be perfectly happy wherever I may have the honor of
crossing my sword with your lordship’s.”
“Very well, then, I am distressed to be the cause of your
wetting your feet, M. de Wardes, but it is most essential
you should be able to say to the king: `Sire, I did not
fight upon your majesty’s territory.’ Perhaps the
distinction is somewhat subtle, but, since Port-Royal, your
nation delights in subtleties of expression. Do not let us
complain of this, however, for it makes your wit very
brilliant, and of a style peculiarly your own. If you do not
object, we will hurry ourselves, for the sea, I perceive, is
rising fast, and night is setting in.”
“My reason for not walking faster was, that I did not wish
to precede your Grace. Are you still on dry land, my lord?”
“Yes, at present I am. Look yonder! My servants are afraid
we shall be drowned, and have converted the boat into a
cruiser. Do you remark how curiously it dances upon the
crests of the waves? But, as it makes me feel sea-sick,
would you permit me to turn my back towards them?”
“You will observe, my lord, that in turning your back to
them, you will have the sun full in your face.”
“Oh, its rays are very feeble at this hour and it will soon
disappear; do not be uneasy on that score.”
“As you please, my lord; it was out of consideration for
your lordship that I made the remark.”
“I am aware of that, M. de Wardes, and I fully appreciate
your kindness. Shall we take off our doublets?”
“As you please, my lord.”
“Do not hesitate to tell me, M. de Wardes, if you do not
feel comfortable upon the wet sand, or if you think yourself
a little too close to the French territory. We could fight
in England, or even upon my yacht.”
“We are exceedingly well placed here, my lord; only I have
the honor to remark that, as the sea is rising fast, we have
hardly time —- ”
Buckingham made a sign of assent, took off his doublet and
threw it on the ground, a proceeding which De Wardes
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imitated. Both their bodies, which seemed like phantoms to
those who were looking at them from the shore, were thrown
strongly into relief by a dark red violet-colored shadow
with which the sky became overspread.
“Upon my word, your Grace,” said De Wardes, “we shall hardly
have time to begin. Do you not perceive how our feet are
sinking into the sand?”
“I have sunk up to the ankles,” said Buckingham, “without
reckoning that the water is even now breaking in upon us.”
“It has already reached me. As soon as you please,
therefore, your Grace,” said De Wardes, who drew his sword,
a movement imitated by the duke.
“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 I
will do my very utmost to take your life; for I feel assured
that, if you survive this engagement, you will, in the