I had better be getting to the story of the duel. I have been hanging
back with it long enough, and I shall tell it at once. I remember my
father saying that the most aggravating creature in life was one who
would be keeping back the best part of a story through mere reasons of
trickery, although I have seen himself dawdle over a tale until his
friends wished to hurl the decanters at him. However, there can be no
doubting of the wisdom of my father's remark. Indeed there can be
little doubting of the wisdom of anything that my father said in life,
for he was a very learned man. The fact that my father did not
invariably defer to his own opinions does not alter the truth of those
opinions in my judgment, since even the greatest of philosophers is
more likely to be living a life based on the temper of his wife and
the advice of his physician than on the rules laid down in his books.
Nor am I certain that my father was in a regular habit of delaying a
story. I only remember this one incident, wherein he was recounting a
stirring tale of a fight with a lancer, and just as the lance was
within an inch of the paternal breast my father was reminded, by a
sight of the walnuts, that Mickey Clancy was not serving the port with
his usual rapidity, and so he addressed him. I remember the words
well.
"Mickey, you spalpeen," said my father, "would you be leaving the
gentlemen as dry as the bottom of Moses' feet when he crossed the Red
Sea? Look at O'Mahoney there! He is as thirsty as a fish in the top of
a tree. And Father Donovan has had but two small quarts, and he never
takes less than five. Bad luck to you, Mickey, if it was a drink for
your own stomach, you would be moving faster. Are you wishing to ruin
my reputation for hospitality, you rogue you?"
And my father was going on with Mickey, only that he looked about him
at this time and discovered his guests all upon their feet, one with
the tongs and one with the poker, others with decanters ready to
throw.
"What's this?" said he.
"The lance," said they.
"What lance?" said he.
"The lance of the lancer," said they.
"And why shouldn't he have a lance?" said my father. "'Faith, 'twould
be an odd lancer without a lance!"
By this time they were so angry that Mickey, seeing how things were
going, and I being a mere lad, took me from the room. I never heard
precisely what happened to the lancer, but he must have had the worst
of it, for wasn't my father, seated there at the table, telling the
story long years after?
Well, as to my duel with Forister: Colonel Royale was an extremely
busy man, and almost tired my life out with a quantity of needless
attentions. For my part, I thought more of Lady Mary and the fact that
she considered me no more than if I had been a spud. Colonel Royale
fluttered about me. I would have gruffly sent him away if it were not
that everything he did was meant in kindliness and generous feeling. I
was already believing that he did not have more than one brain in his
head, but I could not be ungrateful for his interest and enthusiasm in
getting me out to be hurt correctly. I understood, long years
afterward, that he and Lord Strepp were each so particular in the
negotiations that no less than eighteen bottles of wine were consumed.
The morning for the duel dawned softly warm, softly wet, softly foggy.
The Colonel popped into my room the moment I was dressed. To my
surprise, he was now quite mournful. It was I, now, who had to do the
cheering.
"Your spirits are low, Colonel?" said I banteringly.
"Aye, O'Ruddy," he answered with an effort, "I had a bad night, with
the gout. Heaven help this devil from getting his sword into your
bowels."
He had made the appointment with Strepp, of course, and as we walked
toward the ground he looked at me very curiously out of the ends of
his eyes. "You know--ah, you have the honour of the acquaintance of
Lady Mary Strepp, O'Ruddy?" said he suddenly and nervously.
"I have," I answered, stiffening. Then I said: "And you?"
"Her father and I were friends before either of you were born," he
said simply. "I was a cornet in his old regiment. Little Lady Mary
played at the knee of the poor young subaltern."
"Oh," said I meanly, "you are, then, a kind of uncle."
"Aye," said he, "a kind of uncle. So much of an uncle," he added with
more energy, "that when she gave me this note I thought much of acting
like a real uncle. From what I have unfortunately overheard, I suspect
that the Earl--aw--disagrees with you on certain points."
He averted his face as he handed me the note, and eagerly I tore it
open. It was unsigned. It contained but three words: "God spare you!"
And so I marched in a tumult of joy to a duel wherein I was expected
to be killed.
I glanced at the Colonel. His countenance was deeply mournful. "'Tis
for few girls I would become a dove to carry notes between lovers," he
said gloomily. "Damn you for it, O'Ruddy!"
"Nay, Colonel," said I. "'Tis no missive of love. Look you!"
But still he kept his eyes averted. "I judge it was not meant for my
eyes," he said, still very gloomy.
But here I flamed up in wrath:
"And would the eye of an angel be allowed to rest upon this paper if
it were not fit that it should be so?" I demanded in my anger.
"Colonel, am I to hear you bleat about doves and lovers when a glance
of your eye will disabuse you? Read!"
He read. "'God spare you!'" he repeated tenderly. Then he addressed me
with fine candor. "Aye, I have watched her these many years, O'Ruddy.
When she was a babe I have seen her in her little bath. When she was a
small girl I have seen her asleep with some trinket clasped in her
rosy hand on the coverlet. Since she has been a beautiful young lady I
have--but no matter. You come along, named nobody, hailing from
nowhere; and she--she sends me out to deliver her prayer that God may
spare you!"
I was awed by this middle-aged sorrow. But, curse him! when she was a
babe he had seen her in her little bath, had he? Damn his eyes! He had
seen the baby naked in her tiny tub? Damn his eyes again! I was in
such a fury that I longed to fight Royale on the spot and kill him,
running my sword through his memory so that it would be blotted out
forever, and never, never again, even in Paradise, could he recall the
image in the little tub.
But the Colonel's next words took the rage out of me.
"Go in, O'Ruddy," he cried heartily. "There is no truer man could win
her. As my lady says, 'God spare you!'"
"And if Forister's blade be not too brisk, I will manage to be
spared," I rejoined.
"Oh, there is another thing touching the matter," said the Colonel
suddenly. "Forister is your chief rival, although I little know what
has passed between them. Nothing important, I think, although I am
sure Forister is resolved to have her for a bride. Of that I am
certain. He is resolved."
"Is he so?" said I.
I was numb and cold for a moment. Then I slowly began to boil, like a
kettle freshly placed on the fire. So I was facing a rival? Well, and
he would get such a facing as few men had received. And he was my
rival and in the breast of my coat I wore a note--"God spare you!" Ha,
ha! He little knew the advantages under which he was to play. Could I
lose with "God spare you!" against my heart? Not against three
Foristers!
But hold! might it not be that the gentle Lady Mary, deprecating this
duel and filled with feelings of humanity, had sent us each a note
with this fervid cry for God to spare us? I was forced to concede it
possible. After all, I perfectly well knew that to Lady Mary I was a
mere nothing. Royale's words had been so many plumes in my life's
helmet, but at bottom I knew better than to set great store by them.
The whole thing was now to hurry to the duelling-ground and see if I
could discover from this black Forister's face if he had received a
"God spare you!" I took the Colonel's arm and fairly dragged him.
"Damme, O'Ruddy!" said he, puffing; "this can be nought but genuine
eagerness."
When we came to the duelling-place we found Lord Strepp and Forister
pacing to and fro, while the top of a near-by wall was crowded with
pleasant-minded spectators. "Aye, you've come, have ye, sirs?" called
out the rabble. Lord Strepp seemed rather annoyed, and Colonel Royale
grew red and stepped peremptorily toward the wall, but Forister and I
had eyes only for each other. His eye for me was a glad, cruel eye. I
have a dim remembrance of seeing the Colonel take his scabbard and
incontinently beat many worthy citizens of Bristol; indeed, he seemed
to beat every worthy citizen of Bristol who had not legs enough to get
away. I could hear them squeaking out protests while I keenly studied
the jubilant Forister.
Aye, it was true. He too had a "God spare you!" I felt my blood begin
to run hot. My eyes suddenly cleared as if I had been empowered with
miraculous vision. My arm became supple as a whip. I decided upon one
thing. I would kill Forister.
I thought the Colonel never would give over chasing citizens, but at
last he returned breathless, having scattered the populace over a wide
stretch of country. The preliminaries were very simple. In a
half-minute Forister and I, in our shirts, faced each other.
And now I passed into such a state of fury that I cannot find words to
describe it; but, as I have said, I was possessed with a remarkable
clearness of vision and strength of arm. These phenomena amaze me even
at this day. I was so airy upon my feet that I might have been a
spirit. I think great rages work thus upon some natures. Their
competence is suddenly made manifold. They live, for a brief space,
the life of giants. Rage is destruction active. Whenever anything in
this world needs to be destroyed, nature makes somebody wrathful.
Another thing that I recall is that I had not the slightest doubt of
my ability to kill Forister. There were no more misgivings: no
quakings. I thought of the impending duel with delight.
In all my midnight meditations upon the fight I had pictured myself as
lying strictly upon the defensive and seeking a chance opportunity to
damage my redoubtable opponent. But the moment after our swords had
crossed I was an absolute demon of attack. My very first lunge made
him give back a long pace. I saw his confident face change to a look
of fierce excitement.
There is little to say of the flying, spinning blades. It is only
necessary to remark that Forister dropped almost immediately to
defensive tactics before an assault which was not only impetuous but
exceedingly brilliant, if I may be allowed to say so. And I know that
on my left a certain Colonel Royale was steadily growing happier.
The end came with an almost ridiculous swiftness. The feeling of an
ugly quivering wrench communicated itself from the point of my sword
to my mind; I heard Strepp and Royale cry "Hold!" I saw Forister fall;
I lowered my point and stood dizzily thinking. My sight was now
blurred; my arm was weak.
My sword had gone deep into Forister's left shoulder, and the bones
there had given that hideous feeling of a quivering wrench. He was not
injured beyond repair, but he was in exquisite agony. Before they
could reach him he turned over on his elbows and managed in some way
to fling his sword at me. "Damn your soul!" he cried, and he gave a
sort of howl as Lord Strepp, grim and unceremonious, bounced him over
again upon his back. In the mean time Colonel Royale was helping me on
with my coat and waistcoat, although I hardly knew that either he or
the coat or waistcoat were in existence.
I had my usual inclination to go forward and explain to everybody how
it all had happened. But Royale took me forcibly by the arm, and we
turned our backs on Strepp and Forister and walked toward the inn.
As soon as we were out of their sight, Colonel Royale clasped my hands
with rapture. "My boy," he cried, "you are great! You are renowned!
You are illustrious! What a game you could give Ponsonby! You would
give him such a stir!"
"Never doubt me," said I. "But I am now your legitimate grandfather,
and I should be treated with great respect."
When we came near the inn I began to glance up at the windows. I
surely expected to see a face at one of them. Certainly she would care
to know who was slain or who was hurt. She would be watching, I fondly
hoped, to see who returned on his legs. But the front of the inn
stared at us, chilly and vacant, like a prison wall.
When we entered, the Colonel bawled lustily for an immediate bottle of
wine, and I joined him in its drinking, for I knew that it would be a
bellows to my flagging spirits. I had set my heart upon seeing a face
at the window of the inn.