"WAIT AND SEE"
When Karl and Helen had been laid in their place of eternal rest,
Benedict considered that the time had now arrived when, having no more
services to perform for the family to which he had devoted himself, he
might remind Sturm that he was Frederic von Bülow's executor.
Always obedient to convention he dressed himself with the greatest care,
hung the Cross of the Legion of Honour and the Guelphic Order to his
buttonhole by a line gold chain and sent in his name to General Sturm.
The general was in his study. He ordered Benedict to be shown in at
once, and as he entered rose from his seat, showed him a chair, and sat
down again. Benedict indicated that he preferred to stand.
"Sir," said he, "the succession of misfortunes which has befallen the
Chandroz family leaves me free, earlier than I expected, to come and
remind you that Frederic, when he was dying, bequeathed to me a sacred
duty--that of vengeance."
The general bowed and Benedict returned his bow.
"Nothing now keeps me in Frankfort but my wish to fulfil my friend's
last injunction. You know what that injunction was, for I have told you;
from this moment I shall have the honour of holding myself at your
disposal."
"That is to say, sir," said General Sturm, striking his fist upon the
writing-table before him, "that you come here to challenge me?"
"Yes, sir," answered Benedict. "A dying man's wishes are sacred, and
Frederic von Bülow's wish was that one of us--either you or I--should
disappear from this world. I deliver it to you the more readily because
I know you, sir, to be brave, skilful in all bodily exercises, and a
first-rate swordsman and shot. I am not an officer in the Prussian army;
you are in no sense my chief. I am a Frenchman, you are a Prussian; we
have Jena behind us and you have Leipzig; we are therefore enemies. All
this makes me hope that you will place no difficulty in my way, and will
consent to send me two seconds to-morrow, who will find mine at my house
between seven and eight in the morning, and will do me the pleasure of
announcing to them the hour, place, and weapons that you have chosen.
Everything will be acceptable to me; make what conditions you like in
the best way you can. I hope that you are satisfied."
General Sturm had shown frequent signs of impatience during Benedict's
speech; but had controlled himself like a well-bred man.
"Sir," said he, "I promise you that you shall hear from me by the hour
you name, and perhaps earlier."
This was all that Benedict wanted. He bowed and withdrew, delighted that
everything had passed off so properly. He was already at the door when
he remembered that he had omitted to give the general his new address,
at Lenhart's. He went to a table and wrote the street and number below
his name on his card.
"Excuse me," said he, "I must not fail to let your Excellency know where
I am to be found."
"Are you not my neighbour?" asked the general.
"No," said Benedict. "I have left this house since the day before
yesterday."
On the same evening, since he expected to leave Frankfort immediately
after next day's duel--unless, indeed, some wound should detain
him--Benedict left cards of farewell at all the houses where he had
visited, withdrew his money from the bank, and, his banker having
detained him, remained at his house until eleven o'clock, and then took
leave to return to Lenhart's. But, as he was crossing the corner of the
Ross Market an officer accosted him and, saying that he had a
communication to make on behalf of the officer in command of the town,
begged Benedict to accompany him. The latter made no difficulty about
entering the market place where military were quartered, and there, at a
sign from the officer, soldiers surrounded him.
"Sir," said the officer, "will you kindly read this paper, which
concerns you."
Benedict took the paper and read it:
"By order of the colonel in command of the town and as a measure of
public safety, M. Benedict Turpin is instructed to leave Frankfort
instantly upon receipt of the present order. Should he refuse to
obey willingly, force is to be employed. Six privates and an
officer will accompany him to the station, enter the same carriage
in the Cologne train and only leave him at the frontier of the
Prussian territory.
"This order to be carried out before midnight.
"Signed ***."
Benedict looked round; he had no possible means of resistance.
"Sir," said he, "if I had any way of escaping from the order that I have
just read, I declare to you that I would do anything in the world to get
out of your hands. The great man who is your minister, and whom I
admire although I do not like him, has said 'Might is right.' I am ready
to yield to force. But I should be greatly obliged if one of you would
go to 17, Beckenheim Street, to a man who lets out carriages, named
Lenhart, and kindly ask him to bring me my dog, of which I am very fond.
I will take occasion to give him some orders in your presence that are
of no particular consequence, but rather important to a man who has been
living in a town for three months and is leaving when he had no
expectation of doing so."
The officer ordered a soldier to fulfil Benedict's wish.
"Sir," said he, "I know that you were intimate with a man to whom we
were all attached, Herr Frederic von Bülow; although I have not the
honour of your personal acquaintance, I should be sorry that you should
carry away a bad impression of me. I was ordered to arrest you in the
manner that I have done. I hope you will pardon an action entirely
outside my own wishes, and which I have tried to perform with as much
courtesy as possible."
Benedict held out his hand.
"I have been a soldier, sir; and therefore I am obliged to you for an
explanation that you might easily have refrained from making."
A minute or so later Lenhart arrived with Frisk.
"My dear Lenhart," said Benedict, "I am leaving Frankfort unexpectedly;
be so kind as to collect any things belonging to me that you may have
and send them to me, in two or three days, unless you prefer to bring
them yourself to Paris, which you do not know and where I would try to
make you spend a pleasant fortnight. I do not offer any terms; you know
that you may safely leave such matters in my hands."
"Oh, I will go, sir, I will go," said. Lenhart. "You may be sure of
that."
"And now," said Benedict, "I think it must be time for the train; no
doubt you have a carriage waiting; let us go if you have nothing more to
wait for, and if you have not a travelling companion to give me."
The soldiers lined up and Benedict passed between them to the carriage
that was waiting. Frisk, always delighted to go from one place to
another, leapt in first, as if to invite his master to follow. Benedict
stepped in, the officer followed him; four privates followed the
officer, a fifth seated himself beside the driver, a sixth jumped up
behind, and the conveyance set out for the station.
The engine was just ready to start as the prisoner arrived; he had not
even the trouble of waiting a few minutes. At the carriage door Frisk
was, as usual, the first to jump in, and although it is not customary,
especially in Prussia, for dogs to travel first-class, Benedict obtained
for him the favour of remaining with them. Next morning they were at
Cologne.
"Sir," said Benedict to the officer, "I am accustomed, every time that I
pass through this town, to provide myself with Farina's eau-de-Cologne
for my dressing-table. If you are not pressed for time I would propose
two things to you: in the first place my word of honour to play fair and
not give you the slip before reaching the frontier; in the second place,
a good breakfast for these gentlemen and you, all breakfasting together
at the same table without any distinction of rank, like brothers. Then
we will take the midday train, unless you prefer to trust my word that I
will go straight to Paris."
The officer smiled.
"Sir," said he, "we will do what you please. I should like you to carry
away the impression that we are only uncivil and tormentors when we are
ordered to be. You want to stay; then let us stay! You offer me your
word; I accept it. You wish to have us all breakfast with you; although
it does not conform either to Prussian habits or Prussian discipline, I
accept. The only precaution we will take--and that rather to do you
honour than because we doubt your word--will be to see you off at the
station. Where do you wish us to meet you again?"
"At the Rhine Hotel, if you please, gentlemen, in an hour's time."
"I need not say," added the officer, speaking in French that the
soldiers should not understand him, "that after the way I have behaved
to you I ought to be cashiered."
Benedict bowed with an air that seemed to say "You need be under no
uneasiness, sir."
Benedict went away to the cathedral square, where Jean Marie Parina's
shop is situated, and the officer took off his men in another direction.
Benedict supplied himself with eau-de-Cologne, which he could the more
easily do because, having no other luggage, he could carry his purchase
with him, and then proceeded to the Rhine Hotel, where he was accustomed
to stay. He ordered the best breakfast that the proprietor could promise
him, and awaited his guests, who appeared at the agreed time.
The breakfast was a thoroughly cheerful one; the prosperity of France
and the prosperity of Prussia were toasted, the Prussians courteously
setting the example; and after breakfast Benedict was escorted to the
station, and, by military order, had a carriage to himself, instead of
sharing one with six private soldiers and an officer.
At the moment of the train's starting the officer put into Benedict's
hand a letter, which the traveller opened as soon as the train had
passed out of the station. He gave a glance at the signature. It came,
as he expected, from General Sturm and contained these words:
"MY DEAR SIR,
"You will understand that it does not become a superior officer to
set a bad example by accepting a challenge of which the object is
to avenge an officer who was punished for disobedience to his
chief. If I were to fight you for a reason so contrary to all
military discipline I should be setting a fatal example to the
army. I refuse, therefore, for the present, to meet you, and in
order to avoid a scandal, I employ one of the most courteous
measures at my disposal. You, yourself, were so good as to
acknowledge that I had a reputation for courage, and you added that
you knew me to be a first-rate shot and swordsman. You cannot,
therefore, attribute my refusal to any fear of facing you. A
proverb, common to all countries, says: 'Mountains do not meet, but
men do.' If we meet anywhere else than in Prussia, and if you are
still desirous of killing me, we will see about settling this
little matter; but I warn you that the result is by no means a
foregone conclusion, and that you will have more trouble than you
expect in keeping your promise to your friend Frederic."
Benedict refolded the letter with the utmost care, placed it in his
pocket-book and slipped his pocket-book into his pocket, arranged
himself as comfortably as he could in a corner, and closing his eyes for
sleep, murmured: "Well, well, we will wait and see!"
CONCLUSION
The presence of the Prussians in Frankfort and the terror that they
caused there did not end with the events which have just been related,
and to which the present narrative ought to confine itself. A few lines
only must be added that our work may close as it opened, by a page of
politics.
Towards the end of September 1866 it was announced that the city of
Frankfort, losing its nationality, its title of a free town, its
privilege of having the Diet held there, and finally its rights as a
member of the Confederation, was to be united on October 8th to the
kingdom of Prussia.
The morrow was gloomy and rainy; no house had hung out the
black-and-white flag; no citizen, sad or cheerful, was in the streets,
every window was shuttered, every door closed. It seemed a city of the
dead. The flag flew only over the barracks, the Exchange, and the post
office.
But in the Roemer Square there was an assemblage of some three or four
hundred men, all belonging to the suburb of Sachsenhausen. It was a
curious thing that each of these men had a dog of some description with
him: a bulldog, mastiff, spaniel, hound, griffon, greyhound, or poodle.
Amidst these bipeds and quadrupeds, Lenhart went up and down relating
what fine things he had seen in Paris, and holding everybody's
attention. He it was who had devised this meeting of his fellow
inhabitants of Sachsenhausen, and who, by whispered instructions, had
invited them to bring their dogs. Men and dogs alike gazed towards the
window from which the proclamation was to be made. They had been waiting
there since nine in the morning.
At eleven the members of the Senate, the Christian and Jewish clergy,
the professors, the chief officials, and Major-General Boyer, with the
officers of the garrison, were gathered together in the Hall of the
Emperors in the Roemer, to witness the taking possession of the formerly
free town of Frankfort by His Gracious Majesty, the King of Prussia.
The civil governor, Baron Patow, and the civil Commissioner, Herr von
Madaï, came from the Senate Hall (once the hall in which the Emperors of
Germany were elected) into the great hall. After some little preamble on
Baron Patow's part he read to the persons present the patent by which
the former free town of Frankfort was taken into possession, and then
the royal proclamation which announced that the town had been added to
the Prussian dominions.
The same documents were now to be read to the people of Frankfort. The
window was opened to an accompaniment of joyful murmurs and mocking
acclamation from the men of Sachsenhausen and the yawns of their dogs.
The square was occupied, we forgot to mention, not only by the men from
Sachsenhausen but by a company of the 34th regiment of the line and its
band.
Herr von Madaï read aloud the following proclamation:
"The very high and very powerful proclamation of His Majesty the King
of Prussia to the inhabitants of the former free town of Frankfort."
Either because the voice of Herr von Madaï was particularly disagreeable
to his hearers or because the words "former free town of Frankfort"
aroused their sensibility, several dogs howled dismally. Herr von Madaï
paused until silence was restored, and continued, still in the king's
name:
"By the patent that I cause to be published to-day I unite you,
inhabitants of the city of Frankfort-on-the-Main and its suburbs, to my
subjects, your German neighbours and brothers."
Five or six howls protested against this union. Herr von Madaï seemed to
give no heed to them and proceeded.
"By the decision of the war and the reorganization of our common German
Fatherland, you are deprived of the independence which you have hitherto
enjoyed, and now enter the union of a great country, whose population is
sympathetic to you by language, customs, and identity of interests."
This news did not appear agreeable to the prejudices of some hearers;
there were complaints, growls, and a certain number of lamentations.
Herr von Madaï seemed to understand these sad protestations.
"If," said he, "it is not without pain that you resign former
connections that were dear to you, I respect such feelings and esteem
them as a guarantee that you and your children will be faithfully
attached to me and my house."
An enormous bulldog replied by a single bark, which appeared, however,
to speak the opinion of the two or three hundred companions around him.
The interruption did not disturb Herr von Madaï, and he went on:
"You will recognize the force of accomplished facts; if the fruits of an
obstinate war and of bloody victories are not to be lost to Germany, the
duty of self-preservation and care for national interests imperatively
demand that the town of Frankfort shall be joined to Prussia, solidly
and for ever."
At this moment a dog broke its chain and despite shouts of "Arrest the
rebel! Arrest the rebel!" and the pursuit of some five or six
Sachsenhausen urchins, disappeared into the Jewry.
"And, as my father of blessed memory declared," resumed Herr von Madaï,
"it is solely for the profit of Germany that Prussia has enlarged its
boundaries. I offer this for your serious reflection, and I confide in
your upright German good sense to swear allegiance to me with the same
sincerity as my own people. May God grant it!"
"WILLIAM"
"Given at my castle of Babelsberg, October 3rd, 1866."
And raising his voice, Herr von Madaï added, by way of peroration:
"Hurrah for King William! Hurrah for the King of Prussia!"
At the same instant the black-and-white flag was hoisted on the topmost
gable of the Roemer. No shout replied to Herr von Madaï's, only the
voice of Lenhart was heard like that of a drill sergeant:
"And now, my little doggies, as you have the honour to be Prussian dogs,
shout 'Hurrah for the King of Prussia!'"
Then every man pressed his toe upon the tail, the ear, or the paw of his
dog, and there arose such frightful uproar, including the deepest and
the shrillest notes, as could only be covered by the band of the 34th
Prussian Regiment playing "_Heil dir im Siegeskranze_," which means
"Hail to thee in the crown of victory."
Thus was the former free town of Frankfort united to the kingdom of
Prussia. But many people say that it is not stitched, but only tacked
on.
EPILOGUE
On June 5th, in the year 1867, a young man of some twenty-five to
twenty-seven years of age, elegantly dressed, and wearing at his
buttonhole a ribbon half red and half blue-and-white, had just finished
his cup of chocolate at the Café Prévôt, which was at the corner of the
Boulevard and the Rue Poissonière. He asked for the "Étandard"
newspaper.
He had to repeat the name twice to the waiter, who, not having the paper
on the premises, went out to the Boulevard for a copy and brought it to
his customer. The latter cast his eyes rapidly over it, looking
evidently for some article that he knew to be there. His glance settled
at last upon the following lines:
"To-day, Wednesday, June 6th, the King of Prussia will enter Paris.
We give a complete list of the persons who will accompany His
Majesty:
"M. de Bismarck.
"General de Moltke.
"Count Puckler, Lord Marshal.
"General de Treskow.
"Count de Goltz, Brigadier-General.
"Count Lehendorff, Aide-de-Camp to the king.
"General Achilles Sturm--"
Doubtless the young man had seen all that he wanted to see, for he
carried no further his investigations into the persons accompanying His
Majesty.
But he tried, to discover at what hour King William was to arrive, and
found that he was expected at a quarter-past four at the Gare du Nord.
He immediately took a carriage and placed himself upon the road which
the king would have to follow in going to the Tuileries.
The king and his escort were some minutes behind their time. Our young
man was waiting at the corner of the Boulevard de Magenta; he placed
himself at the end of the procession, and accompanied it to the
Tuileries, keeping his eyes particularly, as he did so, upon the
carriage which contained General von Treskow, Count von Goltz, and
General Achilles Sturm. That carriage entered the courtyard of the
palace with the King of Prussia's, but came out again, almost
immediately, with the three generals who occupied it, in order to go to
the Hôtel du Louvre.
There the three generals alighted; they were clearly intending to lodge
in the neighbourhood of the Tuileries where their sovereign was staying.
Our young man, who also had alighted, saw a waiter lead them to their
several rooms. He waited a moment, but none of them came out again. He
got into his carriage again and disappeared round the corner of the Rue
des Pyramides. He knew all that he wanted to know.
Next morning, about eleven o'clock, the same young man was walking in
front of the café belonging to the hotel, and smoking a cigarette. At
the end of ten minutes his expectation was satisfied. General Sturm came
from the Hôtel du Louvre into the restaurant, sat down at one of the
marble tables arranged just inside the windows and asked for a cup of
coffee and a glass of brandy. This was just opposite the Zouave
Barracks.
Benedict entered the barracks and came out a minute later, with two
officers. He led them in front of the window and showed them General
Sturm.
"Gentlemen," said he, "that is a Prussian general with whom I have so
serious a quarrel that one of us must be left upon the field. I have
applied to you to do me the favour of acting as my seconds, because you
are officers, because you do not know me, and do not know my adversary,
and consequently, will not have any of those little delicate
considerations for us that fashionable people have towards those for
whom they act as seconds. We will go in and sit down at the same table
with him. I will reproach him with what I have to reproach him with, and
you will see whether the matter is serious enough for a duel to the
death. If you judge it to be so, you will do me the honour of being my
seconds. I am a soldier like yourselves; I went through the Chinese war
with the rank of lieutenant, I fought at the battle of Langensalza as
orderly to Prince Ernest of Hanover, and, finally, I fired one of the
last shots at the battle of Aschaffenburg. My name is Benedict Turpin,
and I am a knight of the Legion of Honour and of the Guelphic Order."
The two officers stepped back a pace, exchanged a few words in a low
voice, and returned to Benedict's side, to tell him that they were at
his command.
All three then entered the café and went to seat themselves at the
general's table. The latter looked up and found himself face to face
with Benedict, whom he recognized at the first glance.
"Ah, it is you, sir," said he, growing rather pale.
"Yes, sir," answered Benedict. "And here are these gentlemen who are
still unacquainted with the explanation that I am about to have with you
and are here to hear what I say, and will be kind enough to assist me in
our combat. Will you allow me to explain to these gentlemen, in your
presence, the cause of our meeting, and afterwards will you give them
details of our antecedents as we go together to the place decided upon?
You remember, sir, that, nearly a year ago you did me the honour of
writing to me that mountains did not meet, but that men did, and that
whenever I had the honour of meeting you outside the kingdom of His
Majesty, King William, you would put no difficulty in the way of giving
me satisfaction."
The general rose.
"It is useless," said he, "to prolong an explanation in a café where
everybody can hear what we say; you can give any explanations to these
gentlemen of the grounds of complaint which you consider yourself to
have against me, and which I am not in any degree bound to disclaim to
you. I wrote to you that I was ready to give you satisfaction; I am.
Give me time to go into the hotel and fetch two friends. That is all I
ask of you."
"Do so, sir," said Benedict, bowing.
Sturm left the café. Benedict and the two officers followed him. He went
into the Hôtel du Louvre. The three gentlemen waited at the door.
In the ten minutes during which they waited Benedict told them the whole
story, and was just concluding it as the general reappeared with his
seconds--two officers of the king's retinue. All three came towards
Benedict and bowed to him. Benedict introduced his own seconds to those
of the general by a wave of the hand. All four drew apart a little.
Presently Benedict's seconds came back to him.
"You have left the choice of weapons to the general?" said he.
"Yes, sir, and he has chosen the sword; we are to go to a sword cutler
and choose a couple of blades that neither of you will have seen
before; then we are to go to the nearest convenient spot for the
meeting. We suggested the fortifications, and these gentlemen have
agreed; they are to take an open carriage, we are to take another; and,
as they do not know the way and we do, we shall guide them along the
boulevard, and at the first sword-cutler's we will buy the swords."
Everything was arranged accordingly. Two waiters were sent for two
carriages. The seconds suggested that the surgeon-major of the Zouaves
should accompany the party, and the suggestion being accepted, one of
the officers went to fetch him. He joined Benedict and the two
Frenchmen, while General Sturm and his seconds followed at some
distance.
At the sword-cutler's--which was Claudin's, Benedict said in an aside to
the shopman, whom he knew:
"The swords are to be charged to me; let the gentlemen who are in the
second carriage choose them."
Three different swords were shown to General Sturm, who selected the one
that best suited his hand, and asked its price; he was told that they
were paid for. The two carriages went as far as the Étoile turnpike by
way of the Maillot gate. Thence they followed the line of the
fortifications for a short distance, then, when they had reached a
tolerably deserted spot, the two Zouave officers alighted from their
chaise, looked up and down the fosse, and finding it empty beckoned
their adversaries to join them. In another minute the whole party was
standing at the base of the walls. The ground was level and offered
every facility for a combat of the kind that was now to take place.
The general's seconds presented the two swords to Benedict who had not
previously seen them; he cast a quick glance at them and saw that they
were _montées en quarte_, a circumstance which suited his designs
admirably. Apparently it suited General Sturm's, also, since he had
chosen the swords.
"When is the fight to stop?" asked the seconds.
"When one of us is killed," answered the two antagonists together.
"Coats off, gentlemen!" said the seconds.
Benedict threw aside his jacket and waistcoat, displaying his shirt.
"Are you ready, gentlemen?" asked the seconds.
"Yes," replied both at the same time.
One of the Zouave officers took one sword and put it into Benedict's
hands; one of the Prussian officers took the other and put it into
General Sturm's hands.
The seconds crossed the two swords at a distance of three inches from
the points, and, moving aside to leave the combatants face to face,
said:
"Now, gentlemen!"
The words were scarcely uttered when the general swiftly made himself
master of his opponent's sword by a double engagement, making as he did
so a stride forward with all the usual impetuosity of a man who knows
himself an adept in fencing.
Benedict leapt back; then, looking at the general's guard:
"Ah, ah!" he murmured, "a quick fellow on his feet. Attention!"
He exchanged a quick glance with his seconds, to tell them not to be
uneasy.
But at the same moment, and without any interval, the general, while
entangling the sword by a skilful pressure advanced in a crouching
attitude, and lunged with so rapid a _dégagement_ that it needed all
Benedict's close handling to parry by a _counter quarte_, which, quick
though it was, could not save his shoulder from a graze. The shirt tore
upon the sword's point and became slightly tinged with blood.
The return thrust came so swiftly that the Prussian by luck or by
instinct had not time to resort to a circular parry and mechanically
employed the _parade de quarte_ and was now on the defensive. The thrust
was parried, but it had been given with such energy that General Sturm
staggered on his legs and could not deliver his counter thrust.
"He is a pretty fencer, after all," thought Benedict. "He gives one
something to do."
Sturm stepped back and lowered his point.
"You are wounded," said he.
"Come, come," returned the young man, "no nonsense! Here's a fuss about
a scratch. You know very well, general, that I have got to kill you. One
must keep one's word, even to a dead man." He put himself in position
again.
"You? Kill me! Upstart!" exclaimed the general.
"Yes, I, greenhorn as you think me," replied Benedict. "Your blood for
his, although all yours is not equal to one drop of his."
"Cursed rascal!" swore Sturm, growing crimson. And, rushing upon
Benedict, he made as he came, two successive _coups de seconde_, so
hasty and so furious that Benedict had barely time to parry them, by
twice retiring, and then a _parade de seconde_ delivered with such
precision and energy that the loose shirt was torn above the waistband,
and Benedict felt the cold steel. Another stain of blood appeared.
"What! Are you trying to tear off my shirt?" said Benedict, sending his
enemy a high _thrust de quarte_, which would have run him through, but
that, feeling himself in danger, he flung himself forward in such a
manner that the hilts touched, and the two adversaries stood with their
swords up face to face.
"Here!" cried Benedict, "this will teach you to steal my thrust."
And before the seconds could interpose their swords to separate them,
Benedict, freeing his arm like a spring, drove the two hilts like the
blow of a fist in his adversary's face, who staggered back, his face
lacerated and bruised by the blow.
Then followed a scene which made those who beheld it shudder.
Sturm drew back for an instant, his mouth half-open and foaming, his
teeth clenched and bleeding, his lips turned back, his eyes gleaming,
bloodshot and almost starting from their sockets, his whole countenance
reddish purple.
"Blackguard! Dog!" he yelled, waving his stiff-held sword and crouching
back for his guard like a jaguar ready to spring.
Benedict stood calm, cold, contemptuous. He extended his sword towards
him.
"You belong to me, now," he said in a solemn voice. "You are about to
die."
He fell back to his guard, exaggerating the pose as a sort of challenge.
He had not to wait long.
Sturm was too good a fencer to throw himself unprotected upon his enemy.
He advanced sharply one pace, making _un double engagement_, of which
Benedict turned aside the second by a _dégagement fait comme on les
passe au mur_.
Anger had disturbed Sturm's guard, he was lunging with his head down--an
attitude which, for this once at least, saved him. The _dégagement_
merely grazed his shoulder by the neck. Blood appeared.
"A sleeve for a sleeve," retorted Benedict, falling back quickly to his
guard, and leaving a great distance between the general and himself.
"Now for it!"
The general found himself too far off, took a step forward, gathered all
his powers, made a frenzied beating with his sword and struck straight,
lunging at the full stretch of his body. All his soul, that is to say,
all his hope, was in that blow.
This time Benedict, planted firmly on his feet, did not yield an inch;
he caught the sword _par un demi cercle_, executed in due form, with his
nails held upwards as though he were in a fencing school, and standing
over the point of his sword inclined towards his feet:
"Now then," he said, delivering his thrust.
The sword entered the upper part of the chest and disappeared completely
in the general's body where Benedict left it, as he sprang back--as a
bull fighter leaves his dagger in the breast of the bull. Then, folding
his arms, he waited.
The general remained standing for a second, staggered, tried to speak;
his mouth became full of blood, he made a movement with his sword and
the sword fell from his hand; then he, himself, like an uprooted tree,
fell full length upon the turf.
The surgeon rushed to the body of Sturm; but he was already dead.
The point of the sword had gone in below the right shoulder blade, and
come out on the left hip, after passing through the heart.
"_Sapristi!_" muttered the surgeon, "that's a man well killed."
Such was Sturm's funeral oration.
THE END