HOW TWO FRIENDS BECAME ENEMIES.
Aldegonde, however, had gone to fetch the guard; but before she
returned they had had time to light a fire with the first numbers, and
were throwing them in, one after another, as quickly as possible, when
the guard appeared, followed by a crowd of ragged men, women, and boys.
Happily, Philippe and Charny knew Reteau’s secret exit, so when they
caught sight of the guard they made their escape through it, carrying
the key with them.
Then Reteau began crying “Murder!” while Aldegonde, seeing the flames
through the window, cried “Fire!”
The soldiers arrived, but finding the young men gone, and the house not
on fire, went away again, leaving Reteau to bathe his bruises. But the
crowd lingered about all day, hoping to see a renewal of the fun.
When Taverney and Charny found themselves in the Rue Vieux Augustins,
“Monsieur,” said Charny, “now we have finished that business, can I be
of any use to you?”
“Thanks, sir, I was about to ask you the same question.”
“Thank you, but I have private business which will probably keep me in
Paris all day.”
“Permit me, then, to take leave of you; I am happy to have met you.”
“And I you, sir;” and the two young men bowed, but it was easy to see
that all this courtesy went no further than the lips.
Philippe went towards the boulevards, while Charny turned to the river;
each turned two or three times till he thought himself quite out of
sight, but after walking for some time Charny entered the Rue Neuve St.
Gilles, and there once more found himself face to face with Philippe.
Each had again the same idea of demanding satisfaction from the Count
de Cagliostro. They could not now doubt each other’s intentions, so
Philippe said:
“I left you the seller, leave me the buyer; I left you the cane, leave
me the sword.”
“Sir,” replied Charny, “you left it to me simply because I came first,
and for no other reason.”
“Well,” replied Taverney, “here we arrive both together, and I will
make no concession.”
“I did not ask you for any, sir; only I will defend my right.”
“And that, according to you, M. de Charny, is to make M. de Cagliostro
burn his thousand copies.”
“Remember, sir, that it was my idea to burn the others.”
“Then I will have these torn.”
“Monsieur, I am sorry to tell you that I wish to have the first turn
with M. de Cagliostro.”
“All that I can agree to, sir, is to take our chance. I will throw up a
louis, and whoever guesses right shall be first.”
“Thanks, sir, but I am not generally lucky, and should probably lose,”
and he stepped towards the door.
Charny stopped him.
“Stay, sir, we will soon understand each other.”
“Well, sir?” answered Philippe, turning back.
“Then, before asking satisfaction of M. de Cagliostro, suppose we take
a turn in the Bois de Boulogne: it will be out of our way, but perhaps
we can settle our dispute there. One of us will probably be left
behind, and the other be uninterrupted.”
“Really, monsieur,” said Philippe, “you echo my own thoughts—where
shall we meet?”
“Well, if my society be not insupportable to you, we need not part. I
ordered my carriage to wait for me in the Place Royale, close by here.”
“Then you will give me a seat?” said Philippe.
“With the greatest pleasure;” and they walked together to the carriage,
and getting in, set off for the Champs Elysées.
First, however, Charny wrote a few words on his tablets, and gave them
to the footman to take to his hotel.
In less than half an hour they reached the Bois de Boulogne. The
weather was lovely, and the air delightful, although the power of the
sun was already felt: the fresh leaves were appearing on the trees, and
the violets filled the place with their perfume.
“It is a fine day for our promenade, is it not, M. de Taverney?” said
Charny.
“Beautiful, sir.”
“You may go,” said Charny to his coachman.
“Are you not wrong, sir, to send away your carriage?—one of us may need
it.”
“No, sir,” replied Charny; “in this affair secrecy before everything,
and once in the knowledge of a servant, we risk it being talked of all
over Paris to-morrow.”
“As you please, but do you think the fellow does not know what he came
here for? These people know well what brings two gentlemen to the Bois
de Boulogne, and even if he did not feel sure now, he will perhaps
afterwards see one of us wounded, and will have no doubts left then. Is
it not then better to keep him here to take back either who shall need
him, than to be left, or leave me here, wounded and alone?”
“You are right, monsieur,” replied Charny; and, turning to the
coachman, he said, “No, stop, Dauphin; you shall wait here.”
Dauphin remained accordingly, and as he perfectly guessed what was
coming, he arranged his position, so as to see through the still
leafless trees all that passed.
They walked on a little way, then Philippe said, “I think, M. de
Charny, this is a good place.”
“Excellent, monsieur,” said Charny, and added: “Chevalier, if it were
any one but you, I would say one word of courtesy, and we were friends
again; but to you, coming from America, where they fight so well, I
cannot.”
“And I, sir, to you, who the other evening gained the admiration of an
entire court by a glorious feat of arms, can only say, M. le Comte, do
me the honor to draw your sword.”
“Monsieur,” said Charny, “I believe we have neither of us touched on
the real cause of quarrel.”
“I do not understand you, comte.”
“Oh! you understand me perfectly, sir; and you blush while you deny
it.”
“Defend yourself,” cried Philippe; their swords crossed. Philippe soon
perceived that he was superior to his adversary, and therefore became
as calm as though he had been only fencing, and was satisfied with
defending himself without attacking.
“You spare me, sir,” said Charny; “may I ask why?”
Philippe went on as before; Charny grew warm, and wished to provoke him
from this sang froid, therefore he said:
“I told you, sir, that we had not touched on the real cause of the
quarrel.”
Philippe did not reply.
“The true cause,” continued Charny, “why you sought a quarrel, for it
was you who sought it, was, that you were jealous of me.”
Still Philippe remained silent.
“What is your intention?” again said Charny. “Do you wish to tire my
arm? that is a calculation unworthy of you. Kill me if you can, but do
not dally thus.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Philippe at last, “your reproach is just; the
quarrel did begin with me, and I was wrong.”
“That is not the question now. You have your sword in your hand; use it
for something more than mere defense.”
“Monsieur,” said Philippe, “I have the honor to tell you once more I
was wrong, and that I apologize.”
But Charny was by this time too excited to appreciate the generosity of
his adversary. “Oh!” said he, “I understand; you wish to play the
magnanimous with me; that is it, is it not, chevalier? You wish to
relate to the ladies this evening how you brought me here, and then
spared my life.”
“Count,” said Philippe, “I fear you are losing your senses.”
“You wish to kill M. de Cagliostro to please the queen; and, for the
same reason, you wish to turn me into ridicule.”
“Ah! this is too much,” cried Philippe, “and proves to me that you have
not as generous a heart as I thought.”
“Pierce it then,” cried Charny, exposing himself as Philippe made
another pass.
The sword glanced along his ribs, and the blood flowed rapidly.
“At last,” cried Charny, “I am wounded. Now I may kill you if I can.”
“Decidedly,” said Philippe, “you are mad. You will not kill me—you will
only be disabled without cause, and without profit; for no one will
ever know for what you have fought;” and as Charny made another pass,
he dexterously sent his sword flying from his hand; then, seizing it,
he broke it across his foot. “M. de Charny,” said he, “you did not
require to prove to me that you were brave; you must therefore detest
me very much when you fight with such fury.”
Charny did not reply, but grew visibly pale, and then tottered.
Philippe advanced to support him, but he repulsed him, saying, “I can
reach my carriage.”
“At least take this handkerchief to stop the blood.”
“Willingly.”
“And my arm, sir; at the least obstacle you met you would fall, and
give yourself unnecessary pain.”
“The sword has only penetrated the skin. I hope soon to be well.”
“So much the better, sir; but I warn you, that you will find it
difficult to make me your adversary again.”
Charny tried to reply, but the words died on his lips. He staggered,
and Philippe had but just time to catch him in his arms, and bear him
half fainting to his carriage.
Dauphin, who had seen what had passed, advanced to meet him, and they
put Charny in.
“Drive slowly,” said Philippe, who then took his way back to Paris,
murmuring to himself, with a sigh, “She will pity him.”