Thy incivility shall not make me fail to do what becomes me; and since
thou hast more valour than courtesy, I for thee will hazard that life
which thou wouldst take from me.--Cassandra, “elegantly done into
English by Sir Charles Cotterell.”
About the usual hour for the promenade in the Tuileries, I conveyed
myself thither. I set the chain and ring in full display, rendered still
more conspicuous by the dark coloured dress which I always wore. I
had not been in the gardens ten minutes, before I perceived a young
Frenchman, scarcely twenty years of age, look with a very peculiar air
at my new decorations. He passed and repassed me, much oftener than the
alternations of the walk warranted; and at last, taking off his hat,
said in a low tone, that he wished much for the honour of exchanging a
few words with me in private. I saw, at the first glance, that he was
a gentleman, and accordingly withdrew with him among the trees, in the
more retired part of the garden.
“Permit me,” said he, “to inquire how that ring and chain came into your
possession?”
“Monsieur,” I replied, “you will understand me, when I say, that
the honour of another person is implicated in my concealment of that
secret.”
“Sir,” said the Frenchman, colouring violently, “I have seen them
before--in a word, they belong to me!”
I smiled--my young hero fired at this. “Oui, Monsieur,” said he,
speaking very loud, and very quick, “they belong to me, and I insist
upon your immediately restoring them, or vindicating your claim to them
by arms.”
“You leave me but one answer, Monsieur,” said I; “I will find a friend
to wait upon you immediately. Allow me to inquire your address?” The
Frenchman, who was greatly agitated, produced a card. We bowed and
separated.
I was glancing over the address I held in my hand, which was--C.
D’Azimart, Rue de Bourbon Numero--, when my ears were saluted with--
“‘Now do you know me?--thou shouldst be Alonzo.’”
I did not require the faculty of sight to recognize Lord Vincent. “My
dear fellow,” said I, “I am rejoiced to see you!” and thereupon I poured
into his ear the particulars of my morning adventure. Lord Vincent
listened to me with much apparent interest, and spoke very unaffectedly
of his readiness to serve me, and his regret at the occasion.
“Pooh.” said I, “a duel in France, is not like one in England; the
former is a matter of course; a trifle of common occurrence; one makes
an engagement to fight, in the same breath as an engagement to dine;
but the latter is a thing of state and solemnity--long faces--early
rising--and willmaking. But do get this business over as soon as you
can, that we may dine at the Rocher afterwards.”
“Well, my dear Pelham,” said Vincent, “I cannot refuse you my services;
and as I suppose Monsieur D’Azimart will choose swords, I venture to
augur everything from your skill in that species of weapon. It is the
first time I have ever interfered in affairs of this nature, but I hope
to get well through the present,
“‘Nobilis ornatur lauro collega secundo,’
as Juvenal says: au revoir,” and away went Lord Vincent, half forgetting
all his late anxiety for my life, in his paternal pleasure for the
delivery of his quotation.
Vincent is the only punster I ever knew with a good heart. No action to
that race in general is so serious an occupation as the play upon words;
and the remorseless habit of murdering a phrase, renders them perfectly
obdurate to the simple death of a friend. I walked through every variety
the straight paths of the Tuileries could afford, and was beginning to
get exceedingly tired, when Lord Vincent returned. He looked very grave,
and I saw at once that he was come to particularize the circumstances of
the last extreme. “The Bois de Boulogne--pistols--in one hour,” were the
three leading features of his detail.
“Pistols!” said I; “well, be it so. I would rather have had swords, for
the young man’s sake as much as my own: but thirteen paces and a steady
aim will settle the business as soon. We will try a bottle of the
chambertin to-day, Vincent.” The punster smiled faintly, and for once in
his life made no reply. We walked gravely and soberly to my lodgings
for the pistols, and then proceeded to the engagement as silently as
Christians should do.
The Frenchman and his second were on the ground first. I saw that the
former was pale and agitated, not, I think, from fear, but passion. When
we took our ground, Vincent came to me, and said, in a low tone, “For
God’s sake, suffer me to accommodate this, if possible?”
“It is not in our power,” said I, receiving the pistol. I looked
steadily at D’Azimart, and took my aim. His pistol, owing, I suppose,
to the trembling of his hand, went off a moment sooner than he had
anticipated--the ball grazed my hat. My aim was more successful--I
struck him in the shoulder--the exact place I had intended. He staggered
a few paces, but did not fall.
We hastened towards him--his cheek assumed a still more livid hue as I
approached; he muttered some half-formed curses between his teeth, and
turned from me to his second.
“You will inquire whether Monsieur D’Azimart is satisfied,” said I to
Vincent, and retired to a short distance.
“His second,” said Vincent, (after a brief conference with that person,)
“replies to my question, that Monsieur D’Azimart’s wound has left him,
for the present, no alternative.” Upon this answer I took Vincent’s arm,
and we returned forthwith to my carriage.
“I congratulate you most sincerely on the event of this duel,” said
Vincent. “Monsieur de M--(D’Azimart’s second) informed me, when I waited
on him, that your antagonist was one of the most celebrated pistol shots
in Paris, and that a lady with whom he had been long in love, made the
death of the chain-bearer the price of her favours. Devilish lucky for
you, my good fellow, that his hand trembled so; but I did not know you
were so good a shot.”
“Why,” I answered, “I am not what is vulgarly termed ‘a crack shot’--I
cannot split a bullet on a penknife; but I am sure of a target somewhat
smaller than a man: and my hand is as certain in the field as it is in
the practice-yard.”
“Le sentiment de nos forces les augmente,” replied Vincent. “Shall I
tell the coachman to drive to the Rocher?”