I went to the rendezvous at the appointed hour. The weather was fine,
delightful for walking, and everybody was out of doors. I could not
avoid the reflection that my neighbor had selected for our duel an hour
when it was very hard not to be seen; I knew that he was very fond of
putting himself in evidence, but it seemed to me that that was not an
opportune occasion for so doing; he was evidently quite capable of
choosing his ground in front of a guardhouse. However, I concluded to be
patient and to await events before judging him.
When I arrived at Porte Maillot I did not see Raymond. It was not yet
one o'clock, so I strolled about in the neighborhood. Little did I think
that morning that I should go to the Bois de Boulogne before night, and
alone. Caroline, I thought, must be surprised at my non-appearance. In
truth, it did imply rather a lack of warmth; and if she were exacting,
she would be justified in scolding me. But I knew a sure way to make
peace with her; it is easy enough to find a way when love still exists;
only in old liaisons, or between those who have been long married, do
quarrels destroy love, because in such cases the methods of
reconciliation are no longer the same.
At half-past one, no one had appeared. Could it be that my neighbor had
deliberately sent me on a fool's errand; I realized that he was likely
to require a vast deal of preparation before fighting a duel; but it
seemed to me that he had had plenty of time since eight o'clock in the
morning to make his little arrangements, and to go about to tell all his
acquaintances that he had an affair of honor on hand. Could he have gone
to warn the police? Such things had been done; but, no, it was he who
had sent the challenge; I was doing him an injustice. Poor Raymond! the
dinner episode was terrific, beyond question, and he must have been
terribly incensed at me, especially if he believed me to be the author
also of the ingenious trick of pasting his picture on the wall on Rue
Vivienne. But why that rhodomontade of sending me a challenge by the
concierge? if he had no intention of fighting, he should have come to
see me at my rooms; I would have confessed my faults, while laughing at
the affair, for I am not one of those men who refuse to atone for the
foolish pranks they have committed except by cutting the throats of the
persons they have offended. I consider that there is more glory in
avowing one's fault frankly, and fighting afterward if the avowal does
not give satisfaction.
Almost two o'clock! I lost my patience; I was tired of walking;
moreover, the weather had changed, and the sky was overcast; a storm
seemed impending, and I had no desire to await it in the woods. The
idlers had become fewer, the riders were digging their spurs into their
horses' sides, the coachmen cracking their whips; everybody was hurrying
back to the city. I determined to go with the rest. But who were the
three men walking so fast toward the woods? I soon recognized the one
who marched so proudly at their head: it was Raymond. He had brought two
seconds, after telling me that he would come alone. But, no matter;
doubtless he would be obliging enough to let me have one of them. I
began to think that he had urged me not to bring one because he
preferred to choose one for me.
As the three drew near, I recognized Raymond's seconds: one was Vauvert
the melomaniac, the other Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche. Parbleu!
thought I, there is sport ahead! I had a strong suspicion that my
neighbor was preparing some trick he had conceived. What in the devil
had induced him to choose such seconds? Friquet only was lacking; I
should not have been surprised to find him standing guard a short
distance away, ready to summon the police at the first signal from his
uncle.
All three were drenched with perspiration; and yet, they had had time
enough to make the trip. Apparently, they had postponed their decision
long enough to be sure of warming themselves up on the road. Raymond was
as red as a turkey cock, Vauvert pale as a bride, and the baron made
such fiendish grimaces that I could not tell just the color of his face.
They seemed more at ease when they saw that I was alone. I very much
regretted that I had not brought a second; I had an idea that by doing
so I should have disarranged Raymond's plan.
They saluted me as soon as they caught sight of me; I returned their
salutation, then went back into the woods I had just left.
"Where are you going? Wait, wait!" cried Vauvert, stammering and hardly
able to speak at all, he was so excited. I pretended not to hear, and
went farther into the woods.
Vauvert started to run after me; he overtook me and seized my hand, and
I felt that he was trembling like a rabbit.
"Where on earth are you going, my dear fellow? why do you go so far into
the woods? Don't you see that we're going to have a storm?"
"It seems to me that the affair that brings us here can hardly be
adjusted on the highroad; it would be as sensible to choose Boulevard
Saint-Denis for the battlefield."
"My friend, I hope that--at all events----"
"As for the storm, that needn't disturb us; on the contrary, it will
keep bystanders away."
While I was talking with Vauvert, I heard my neighbor shouting in the
distance:
"No adjustment, Monsieur Vauvert, no adjustment! I don't propose to
consent to any compromise; I am determined to fight!"
"You hear him!" said Vauvert; "he's crazy. Oh! he's a terrible fellow
when he gets started. He has said everywhere that he proposed to have
your life, or that you should have his."
I could not help laughing at Raymond's bluster; and I ventured to
reassure poor Vauvert, who did not know which way to turn, having never
been present at such a function. At last we were joined by my adversary
and the Baron de Witcheritche, the latter of whom wore a three-cornered
hat, eight inches high, cocked over his left ear, which gave him the
aspect of a bully from the Rue Coquenard.
"Monsieur!" said Raymond, striding toward me with a warlike air, "I
wrote you that I should come alone, and that was my intention; but, as I
passed through the Palais-Royal, I met my friend Vauvert, who had come
out to buy a roll for his second breakfast, and who, when he learned
that I had an affair of honor with you, dropped everything to come with
me, and----"
"That is to say," interrupted Vauvert, "that you didn't tell me that
that was what was up, and that I didn't find it out till we got to the
barrier; for, when you saw me, you grabbed my arm and didn't give me
time to pay for my newspaper."
Raymond pretended not to hear what Vauvert said, and continued:
"So I yielded to his urgent entreaties. Besides, he is as much your
friend as mine, and his presence cannot be disagreeable to you. As for
Monsieur le Baron de Witcheritche, we met him at the barrier, going out
to dine in the country with his good wife. I thought it better to have
two seconds than one, because then I could let you have one of them.
Monsieur de Witcheritche consented to leave madame la baronne, who is
waiting for him under the trees not far away. He will be my second then,
and Monsieur Vauvert yours, if agreeable to you."
Monsieur le baron, who had bowed every time that his name was mentioned,
took his place beside Raymond, and Vauvert stood behind me.
"Monsieur Raymond," said I, "it seems to me that we might very well
settle this affair between ourselves, without troubling these gentlemen.
I am afraid that madame la baronne may get wet during our engagement,
and Vauvert would be better off at his desk than here."
"That is true enough," said Vauvert, who asked nothing better than to go
away; "I have a great deal of work to do to-day, and I'm afraid I shall
be reproved by my deputy chief clerk."
"Matame la paronne, she haf ov te shtorm no fear; she loaf mooch to see
te lidening flashes," said Monsieur de Witcheritche, smiling so
expansively that his mouth seemed to reach from ear to ear.
"Well, since these gentlemen have been good enough to come," said I,
with a smile, "it must not be for nothing; so I accept Monsieur Vauvert
for my second."
Vauvert fell back with an air of dismay.
"Don't be alarmed," I said to him; "seconds rarely fight; if, however, I
should fall, and you should choose to avenge me, it will be in your
power."
"I, my dear friend! I do not need to tell you how fond I am of you; and
certainly--I wish the affair might be settled amicably. Friends ought
not to fall out!--Monsieur de Witcheritche, we ought not to allow these
gentlemen to fight."
The baron seemed much more deeply interested in something that he had in
his pocket than in our combat, and to no purpose did Vauvert, with tears
in his eyes, strive frantically to make him understand that it was their
duty to reconcile Raymond and myself. But my neighbor was obstinate.
"I intend to fight," he said; "nobody shall insult me with impunity! I
have seen Monsieur Gerville, and I know that he did not dine with you
and Agathe; I need say no more! And my silhouette on the wall--that was
a betrayal of confidence! You must give me satisfaction, Monsieur
Dorsan; this affair will make a sensation."
"Oh! bless my soul, neighbor, I am at your service! Let us get through
with it, for it is going to rain, and I shall be distressed to have
these gentlemen get wet, and especially madame la baronne, who is under
the trees."
"I am the insulted party; I have the choice of weapons."
"That is true."
"I am very skilful with the sword; I have taken lessons from the most
expert teacher in Paris; but I will not fight with anything but
pistols, because I don't wish to make an unfair use of my advantages."
"That is very generous on your part; I divined your purpose and brought
some pistols along."
As I spoke, I took mine from my pocket; I saw that Raymond was disturbed
and changed color; then he produced a pair of great holster pistols and
showed them to me.
"That's all right," said I; "each of us will have his own pistols."
"No, no! put yours back in your pocket; we must use mine. You understand
what an advantage I should have in using one of my pistols against one
of yours, which are two inches shorter."
"Your behavior is truly noble. Very well, since you insist upon it."
"I do, monsieur; besides, I have the choice of weapons, and I fight with
none but my own."
"Very well; let us call our friends to load them."
I turned to look for Vauvert, who, as soon as we produced our pistols,
had walked away in the direction of the highroad and could with
difficulty be induced to come near us.
"The pistols are loaded," said Raymond; "I always look after that in
advance."
"Ordinarily, my dear neighbor, that is the duty of the seconds."
"Oh! but I don't trust anybody but myself with that. Besides, my friend
Witcheritche has examined them;--isn't that so, monsieur le baron?"
The baron was busily engaged in wrapping in two thicknesses of paper
some small Neufchâtel cheeses, which he seemed to fear would be
dissolved in his pocket by the rain; so he replied to my adversary's
question only by a smile of assent. Everything that I saw tended to
confirm my suspicions: Raymond's valor was unnatural; his insistence
upon using his own pistols, the pains he had taken to load them at home,
certainly implied some trickery on his part, which I was determined. He
handed me his pistols and asked me to choose one.
"How many paces apart shall we stand?" I asked.
"Why--about twenty-five."
"Great God!" cried Vauvert; "why, that's point-blank range. Forty paces,
messieurs! that's quite near enough when you're hit!"
"No; let's call it thirty; that's the most I can consent to.--Monsieur
de Witcheritche, come and measure the ground."
Monsieur le baron regretfully parted from his cheeses, which he laid on
the grass, taking care to put his hat over them, for the rain was
beginning to fall violently. He came toward us; I took my place, and he
measured thirty gigantic paces, so that I could hardly see Raymond. As
for my second, he was so afraid of being hit that he did not know where
to go. He urged us to be very careful not to aim at the wrong man, and I
reassured him. Monsieur de Witcheritche gave the signal by beating time,
as if we were to play a Haydn quartette.
Raymond fired, and either the noise or downright terror felled Vauvert
to the ground, where he lay with his face buried in the grass. I was not
touched; I did not even hear the bullet whistle by my ears.