The duke’s attendants had received directions to have a boat in readiness at the jetty head, and to watch the embarkation of their master, without approaching him until either he or his friend should summon them—“whatever may happen,” he had added, laying a stress upon these words, so that they might not be misunderstood. Having walked a few paces upon the strand, Buckingham said to de Wardes, “I think it is now time to take leave of each other. The tide, you perceive, is rising; ten minutes hence it will have soaked the sands where we are now walking in such a manner that we shall not be able to keep our footing.”
“I await your orders, my lord, but—”
“But, you mean, we are still upon soil which is part of the king’s territory.”
“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 up 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 seasick, 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 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 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 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
