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"I and M. de Barjols' second, your adversary having renounced his rights of the insulted party." "Have you decided upon the weapons?" "I offered my pistols. They were accepted on my word of honor that you were as unfamiliar with them as was M. de Barjols. They are excellent weapons. I can cut a bullet on a knife blade at twenty paces." "Peste! You are a good shot, it would seem, my lord."
"My dear sir," replied the young man of the table d'hote, "I have already told you that there is some mistake. As surely as my name is Alfred de Barjols, this money will be returned to you some day." The wine merchant heaved a sigh and shook his head, as if, in spite of that assurance, he still retained some doubts.
"So much the better!" "But when I saw you throw a plate at M. Alfred de Barjols' head, I was much grieved." "You were grieved, my lord, and why?" "Because in England no gentleman would throw a plate at the head of another gentleman." "My lord," said Roland, rising with a frown, "have you perchance come here to read me a lecture?"
"It is for you to fire, sir," replied M. de Barjols. "But," continued Roland, as if he had not heard, "you will understand my impetuosity, and perhaps excuse it, when you hear that I am a soldier and General Bonaparte's aide-de-camp." "Fire, sir," replied the young nobleman. "Say but one word of retraction, sir," resumed the young officer.
"You will not say that to him?" "Reassure yourself; I tell you to salve your conscience." "Very well; then you will fight?" "That is why I have remained here, at any rate." "What weapons?" "That is not our affair, my lord." "What! not our affair?" "No; M. de Barjols is the one insulted; the choice is his." "Then you will accept whatever he proposes?"
"Come in," said he, twirling his chair on one of its hind legs so as to face his visitor, whom he supposed to be either, M. de Barjols or one of his friends. The door opened with a steady mechanical motion and the Englishman appeared upon the threshold. "Ah!" exclaimed Roland, enchanted with this visit, in view of his general's recommendation; "is it you?" "Yes," said the Englishman, "it is I."
"So that," said Sir John, still hesitating, "I may accept your offer without seeming intrusive?" "I should think so. You will delight us all, especially me." "Then I accept." "Bravo! Now, let's see, when will you start?" "As soon as you wish. My coach was harnessed when you threw that unfortunate plate at Barjols' head.
Then as Roland made no haste to obey this injunction, he shouted, stamping his foot: "Heavens and earth! will you fire?" At these words Roland made a movement as if he intended to fire in the air. "Ah!" exclaimed M. de Barjols. Then with a rapidity of gesture and speech that prevented this, "Do not fire in the air, I beg, or I shall insist that we begin again and that you fire first."
He handed them to M. de Barjols' second to examine. The latter tried the triggers and played with the lock, examining to see if they were double-barrelled. They were single-barrelled. M. de Barjols cast a glance at them but did not even touch them. "Our opponent does not know these weapons?" queried M. Valensolle. "He has not even seen them," replied Sir John, "I give you my word of honor."
And the young man, throwing himself back in his chair, burst into laughter, so aggressive, so nervous, that every one gazed at him in wonderment, while his companion's eyes expressed an almost paternal anxiety. "Sir," said citizen Alfred de Barjols, who, moved like the others by this singular outburst, more sad, or rather dolorous, than gay, had waited for its last echo to subside.
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