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Updated: June 16, 2025
"What's the matter, man?" I asked. "For God's sake, sire, don't do it. Send him a message. You mustn't do it." "My good Vohrenlorf, you are mad," said I. Yet not Vohrenlorf was mad, but I, mad with the vision of my two phantoms freedom and pleasure. I was in the Garden Pavilion only the other morning with one of my sons, teaching him how to use his weapons.
"In everything but the moment of his remark M. Wetter was right," said I. "I didn't remember in time that I am not placed as other men; I will not remember it now. Varvilliers, you mustn't be concerned in this. Vohrenlorf, I put myself in your hands." "Good God, you won't fight?" cried Varvilliers. "Vohrenlorf will do for me what he would for any gentleman who put himself in his hands," said I.
For a moment or two Wetter sat silent, his eyes intently fixed on the Vicomte's face. Then he said in a tone as low as Varvilliers' had been: "I think his Majesty remembers his disabilities too late or has them remembered for him." Vohrenlorf rose to his feet, carried away by anger and excitement. "Sir " he cried loudly. "Vohrenlorf, be quiet. Sit down," said I. "M. Wetter is right." None spoke.
Wetter had insulted the King; the King would cease to be the King to punish him. I had this cool anger in my heart when I went with Vohrenlorf to the Pavilion at six in the morning. But half the bitterness of it was due to my own inmost knowledge that my acts had led him on; that, if he had committed the sacrilege, my hand had flung open the doors of the shrine.
Before more could happen there was a loud rapping at the door, and the handle was twisted furiously. Somebody cried, "Go for a doctor!" Then came Varvilliers' voice, "You go, Wetter. We trust you to go. Who the devil's at the door?" He sprang across and opened it. Vohrenlorf was asking me in trembling whispers where I was hit. I paid no heed to him.
Varvilliers and Vohrenlorf seemed to regard him with a sort of wonder. At the risk of ridicule I must confess to something of the same feeling. Yes, even I myself was a little surprised that Wetter should meet me in a duel. But, while I was surprised, I was glad. "I am greatly indebted to M. Wetter," I said, returning his bow, "in that he does not insist on my disabilities."
The door opened, and to my amazement William Adolphus ran in, closely followed by Coralie Mansoni. I was past speaking, soon I became past consciousness. The last I remember is that Coralie was kneeling by me, Vohrenlorf still supporting me, the rest standing round. Yet, though I did not know it, I spoke. Varvilliers told me afterward that I muttered, "An accident my fault."
"But I'm glad you came," said I, laughing again, and, as the door closed behind him, I added, "Most lucky! His evidence will be invaluable. Fortune is with us, Varvilliers." "A man of ready wit is with us, sire," he answered in his pleasant courtliness; then, as we heard William Adolphus trotting off and Vohrenlorf came back, he went on, "All is ready." Wetter seemed absolutely composed.
He leaned across the table and said in a very low voice to Wetter: "Sir, his Majesty is the only gentleman in Forstadt who can not resent an insult." I recollect well little Madame Briande's pale face, as she half rose from her seat with clasped hands. Coralie still smiled. Vohrenlorf was red and fierce, with his hand on the hilt of his sword. Varvilliers was calm, cool, polished in demeanour.
The position was too hard for young Vohrenlorf. He sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. "No, no, I can't," he muttered. Wetter stood still as a rock, looking not at any of us, but down toward the floor. Varvilliers drank a glass of wine and then wiped his mustache carefully with a napkin.
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