"A duel!" said Beaufort. "'Twas near here that poor Castries was killed.
Perhaps it is another friend in trouble, and I had best see," and,
calling to the coachman to stop the horses, he jumped out. Almost at the
same instant a man stumbled out of the allee and ran down the boulevard.
Beaufort would have followed him, but, as he started to do so, he heard
his name called and, looking back, saw another man emerge from the allee
and gaze down the almost deserted street. By the dim light of the
lantern swung from its great iron post the man recognized Monsieur de
Beaufort and ran forward.
"Will you come?" he said, hurriedly. "Monsieur Calvert is here--wounded
by that villain."
"Calvert--impossible! He is not in Paris."
"But he is!--here," said Bertrand, drawing Beaufort toward the allee.
Adrienne's pale face appeared at the coach-door.
"Did I hear someone speak of Monsieur Calvert?"
Beaufort went up to her. "He is here--wounded, I think," he said in a
low voice. "I will go and see--you will not be afraid to wait?"
"To wait!--I am going, too," and before he could prevent it she had
stepped from the coach and was making her way toward the allee.
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