The position was too painful, too tragic, for even
the great emotion in her heart. Behind Iberville's courtesy she read the
deadly mischief. But she had a power born for imminent circumstances,
and her mind was made up as to her course. It had been made up when, at
the critical moment, she had called out Iberville's Christian name. She
rightly judged that this had saved her husband's life, for she guessed
that Iberville was the better swordsman.
She placed her hands with slight resistance on the arms of her husband,
who was about to clasp her to his breast, and said: "I am glad to find
you, George." That was all.
He also had heard that cry, "Pierre," and he felt shamed that his life
was spared because of it--he knew well why the sword had not gone through
his body. She felt less humiliation, because, as it seemed to her, she
had a right to ask of Iberville what no other woman could ask for her
husband.
A moment after, at Iberville's request, they were all seated. Iberville
had pretended not to notice the fingers which had fluttered towards him.
As yet nothing had been said about the duel, as if by tacit consent. So
far as Jessica was concerned it might never have happened.
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