Chapter XLIII: A Duel

The adventure of the pie amused the guests mightily; Saint-Arthur alone did not share his friends' gayety; at every mouthful that he swallowed, he muttered:

"My poor parrot! my poor Coco! how prettily he said: 'Dutaillis is lovely!'--What a misfortune!--'Applaud, clap Zizi!'--I shall never be consoled."

"You are going to begin by being consoled right away," said the young actress; "and don't bore us any longer with your complaints. Don't you see that the story of your pie is a hundred times better and funnier than your bird would have been? But here comes the dessert. I want some champagne now, and I want my good friend Roncherolle to keep his promise to us."

"Monsieur is going to begin his exercises!" said Jericourt ironically. "Let us see if it is the same thing as at Nicolet's: worse and worse and more of it."

"We will do our utmost to satisfy monsieur," replied Roncherolle, emptying a glass of champagne.

"But first of all," said Zizi, "as I am rather inquisitive, I want to hear the story of that little bunch of violets that you promised me."

"Ah! so he has stories too!" muttered the literary man; "sapristi! we are going to have a deal of entertainment!"

"Perhaps you will have much more than you expect, monsieur," replied Roncherolle, with a meaning glance at Jericourt. "But I begin--this little bunch of violets I got from a flower girl,--nothing more commonplace than that, eh? But what is less commonplace is that this young flower girl, who is remarkably pretty, is as virtuous and respectable as she is pretty. Now, this is what happened to her last summer: a young man of the world, a dandy, who, I believe, claims to be a literary man, saw the charming flower girl and found her to his liking; he made such speeches to her as all young men make to pretty girls--thus far there was nothing that was not perfectly natural."

"I say!" cried Saint-Arthur; "why, that's like Jericourt and----"

"Pray let monsieur finish!" said Jericourt, who had become very attentive within a few seconds.

"But, as I was saying, the pretty flower girl, who is virtuous and who, moreover, is in love with a handsome young fellow, did not listen to our dandy's suggestions, but received them very coldly. What does he do to triumph over the girl? He sends a man to order and pay for a very handsome bouquet, with a request to the flower girl to carry it herself to a lady whose address he gives her, informing her that that lady will have other orders for her. The girl falls into the snare--for you will guess that she was sent to the gallant himself, who had told his concierge to allow the flower girl to go up to his room."

"Why, this is strange, it resembles----"

"Hold your tongue, Frefred! this story interests me immensely."

Jericourt did not utter a word, but he had become very pale. Roncherolle continued his narrative, with his eyes still fastened upon him.

"Behold then our flower girl in the young man's room, which she had entered without suspicion, for a woman had opened the door. But soon he who has been persecuting her with his addresses appears; he is alone with her, he no longer conceals his purpose to triumph over her resistance; the girl sees her danger, summons all her courage, and resists so effectively that the enterprising gentleman receives upon his face the marks of that stout defence--indeed, they have not altogether disappeared yet; he is obliged to let a woman who defends herself so well go her way. You will assume that that was the end of it all; and indeed, it should have been; but no, because that girl was virtuous, because she did not choose to cease to be virtuous, because she had given her heart to another, the gentleman in question deemed it becoming to proclaim everywhere that the pretty flower girl had been his mistress, that she had come to his room of her own free will,--in short, that she was an abandoned girl; he dishonored her in the eyes of all those who loved her. I say that that is dastardly, infamous! and do not you think that so much lying and slander deserve to be punished?"

Zizi said nothing because she had guessed the truth; Jericourt bit his lips and also held his peace; but Frefred exclaimed:

"This is strange--your story--one would say--where does your pretty flower girl stand?"

"Near here, on Boulevard du Chateau d'Eau; you know her perfectly well."

"What! is it Violette?"

"It is Violette."

"Why, in that case, the young man who pretends to have had her favors--is----"

"Just so; it is monsieur."

Thereupon Jericourt felt called upon to draw himself up and assume an impertinent tone.

"Monsieur," said he to Roncherolle, "I do not understand all the absurd stories and fairy-tales which you have been telling us, and which have neither head nor tail; but what seems even more inconceivable is that a man of your age should pose as the knight of flower girls!"

"A man of my age, monsieur, knows the world well enough to distinguish the false from the true; and when one can avenge a woman who has been shamelessly defamed by a conceited coxcomb, age makes no difference, monsieur, as I hope to prove to your satisfaction."

"Really, I am very condescending to answer you!" retorted Jericourt, throwing himself back and swinging his legs. "Be off with you, monsieur; leave me in peace."

"I will be off, monsieur, but with you, I hope."

"Oh! that would be amusing! Faith, my dear monsieur, lose your temper if you choose, but I will not fight for a flower girl."

"Well! will you fight for this, monsieur?"

As he spoke, Roncherolle, who had left his seat and walked toward Jericourt, struck him across the face with his glove.

The young man leaped from his chair, his face became livid, and he seemed to contemplate rushing upon Roncherolle; but the latter maintained such a calm and impassive attitude, while holding the prongs of a fork toward his adversary to keep him at a respectful distance, that Jericourt contented himself with saying in a voice choked with wrath:

"That insult will cost you dear, monsieur!"

"I shall be enchanted to find out whether that is so, monsieur; and I propose that we finish this matter not later than to-morrow morning."

"Yes, monsieur; to-morrow, at nine o'clock in the morning, I will be in the woods, near Porte Saint-Mande."

"I will be there at that time."

"Saint-Arthur, you witnessed the insult, you must be my second."

"I, your second; why, I don't know if----"

"Be kind enough to have two seconds," said Roncherolle, "for I shall bring two."

"Until to-morrow, monsieur; Saint-Arthur, be at my rooms before eight o'clock."

Jericourt seized his hat and rushed from the room like a madman, without saluting anybody.

The young actress did not think of laughing, she was deeply impressed by all that had happened. As for Alfred, he turned white, red and yellow by turns, and seemed to be inclined to weep.

"My dear friends," said Roncherolle, resuming his seat at the table, "I am truly sorry to have disturbed the end of your dinner thus. But what would you have? I have been waiting for a long time for an opportunity to settle affairs with this fellow Jericourt."

"Then you are certain that the pretty flower girl has been slandered?" said Zizi.

"Perfectly sure. However, this duel will be the judgment of God. Let us drink to the triumph of the truth."

"I am not thirsty any more," faltered Saint-Arthur. "Here I am forced to be a second in a duel! I don't like that at all, for--are your seconds quick-tempered?"

"Not the least in the world; I shall bring two mere boys; you have nothing to fear; your part will be absolutely passive; you will be there only to look on, for there is no possible adjustment of the affair with my adversary."

"Ah! if it's only a matter of looking on, that's different; rely on me."

"Oh! how I wish it were to-morrow noon," said Zizi. "But now good-night, let us separate; I am no longer in the mood for talking nonsense. I am only a good-for-nothing, Monsieur de Roncherolle, but all the same I will pray to God for you; and who knows? perhaps He will listen to me."

On leaving the restaurant, Roncherolle walked back and forth in front of the theatres on Boulevard du Temple; he knew that Chicotin was particularly devoted to that place, where he often succeeded in obtaining an admission ticket, which he did not sell, but with which he went into the theatre. And in fact Roncherolle had not been walking there ten minutes when he spied the person for whom he was looking.

"Hello! is that you, bourgeois?" cried the young messenger. "Have you been to the play? If you are not going back, make me a present of your check."

"No, my boy, I haven't been to the play; but listen carefully to what I am going to say to you, for it is very serious, very important; I need you to-morrow, you must be at my room at eight o'clock at the latest."

"That is easy enough, I will be there. Is that all?"

"No, I also want your friend Georget, Violette's young sweetheart, to come with you; I need him too."

"Is that so? What for, bourgeois?"

"I will tell you both to-morrow, not before; meanwhile, let your friend understand that his future happiness and Violette's are concerned."

"Oh! in that case, never fear; he won't fail to come!"

"But don't mention this to anybody, not even to Violette; it is a secret."

"We won't say a word."

"Are you sure of seeing Georget this evening?"

"Pardi! when he doesn't go to walk with Violette, he is at home; at any rate, he must go home, and I will wait for him."

"Very well, is he still with Monsieur Malberg?"

"Yes, but he sleeps in his own lodgings."

"Don't let him say a word of this to--to Monsieur Malberg."

"Never you fear; indeed, he probably won't see him until after he sees you."

"Until to-morrow then, and both of you."

"We will be there, monsieur."

"By the way, bring a cab with you; don't forget."

"A cab, all right, monsieur."

The next morning at half-past seven, Roncherolle was up and dressed and was cleaning a pair of pistols, which, despite his destitution, he had always kept. At a few minutes before eight, the door was opened softly and Chicotin appeared, accompanied by Georget. The latter, instead of a blouse, wore a short coat buttoned to his chin, and on his head a blue cloth cap of stylish shape; he held himself very erect, and his new costume heightened the attractiveness of his face and the grace of his figure.

Roncherolle could not help admiring the fine appearance of the young man, and he offered him his hand, which Georget took with an air of respect.

"Here we are, bourgeois," said Chicotin; "I hope we haven't kept you waiting; I bring Georget, as you see, and the cab is downstairs."

"That is very good, my boy. Monsieur Georget, I thank you for coming here at my invitation; when you know what is on foot, I am sure that you will not be sorry."

"I am very happy, monsieur, if I can be of use to you in any way; I know you already through Violette, whom you were kind enough to visit when she was sick; and Chicotin told me----"

"I told him that this morning's business had something to do with her; but monsieur will explain the whole thing to us, and tell us why----"

"You are in a great hurry; the most important thing now is to start; and especially to avoid meeting my little neighbor on the stairs, for she would ask questions which we could not very well answer at this moment."

"Oh! it's only eight o'clock; it's cold too, and Violette doesn't go out so early in such weather."

"Very well, let us start, young men."

Roncherolle took his box of pistols, which seemed to puzzle Chicotin greatly. Georget went out first, walked to the stairs cautiously, then motioned to them that they might go down. All three were soon at the door, which was kept by Mirontaine only; he barked when anybody came in, but never when they went out.

Monsieur de Roncherolle entered the cab, told Georget and Chicotin to enter with him, although the latter declared that he would be quite as comfortable behind, and bade the coachman take them to the Porte Saint-Mande, by the Vincennes road.

"Oho! we are going to the country," cried Chicotin; "we shan't find much shade there!"

"I can tell you now, messieurs, why I have brought you with me," said Roncherolle. "It is for the purpose of being my seconds; for I have a duel on hand, I am going to fight a duel with pistols this morning."

"You are going to fight?" cried Georget, deeply moved.

"Yes, my friend; if I had told you that beforehand, would you have refused to come with me?"

"Oh, no! on the contrary, I would have begged you to take me."

"I was sure of it beforehand, young man."

"And I too, bourgeois; I like fights! they just suit me! But what are we two going to fight with? We haven't any weapons; are we to fight with fists? I like that too."

"No, not with fists or anything else; you are my seconds, and you will not be called upon to fight at all."

"So much the worse! of what use shall we be then?"

"To affirm the innocence of a young girl whom I hope to avenge. I am going to fight with Monsieur Jericourt."

"With Monsieur Jericourt?" cried Georget; "with that man who laid the trap for Violette and then slandered her so abominably?"

"Just so; do you consider that I am doing wrong?"

"Oh, monsieur! what good fortune! that Jericourt! I have been looking for him everywhere, and haven't found him. But you are not the one who's going to fight with him, monsieur; I am; for I am the man whom he insulted most cruelly; I am the man whom he injured most; I am to be the husband of the woman whom he tried to dishonor. You must see, monsieur, that I am the one who must fight with him."

"My dear Georget, I was very sure that you would say all that; I expected it; but be calm and listen to me. I was in this gentleman's company yesterday; I have long been looking for an opportunity. I told him what I thought of his conduct toward Violette. I demanded satisfaction for his slanders, but he refused; then I struck him in the face. The duel was instantly arranged for this morning. Now, this gentleman has the right to demand satisfaction for the outrage inflicted upon his face; if I did not fight, if I allowed you to fight in my place, I should act like a coward; and as I have never had that reputation, you will permit me not to earn it now. All that I can do, my dear Monsieur Georget, is, if I fall, to allow you to take my place and to renew the combat with this gentleman. Now it is all understood and arranged. Not a word more on that subject, for it would be useless.--But we have arrived."

The carriage stopped on the outskirts of the wood; Roncherolle alighted with the two young men, Chicotin carrying the box of pistols. They looked about in all directions but saw nobody.

"Is it possible that he will not come?" murmured Georget, stamping the ground impatiently.

"Is he going to squeal?" said Chicotin.

"There is no time wasted yet, messieurs, and his seconds may have kept him waiting.--But look, I see a carriage in the distance.--I'll wager that they're the people we expect."

The carriage reached the wood and they saw Jericourt, Saint-Arthur and little Astianax at once alight from it.

"_Saperlotte!_ the seconds are not big fellows," cried Chicotin; "I know 'em; both of 'em together wouldn't make one decent man. I could eat half a dozen of them without difficulty!"

Roncherolle imposed silence upon Chicotin with a glance. Jericourt came forward with his two friends; Saint-Arthur acted as if he had a pain in his stomach, and little Astianax looked in both directions at once.

"What does this mean?" cried Jericourt, as he scrutinized Chicotin, while Georget glared at him with flaming eyes; "what! Monsieur de Roncherolle chooses a messenger for his second? Really, I should have supposed that he could find some one better than that.--You see, messieurs, the honor that he does you, and with whom you are brought into relations!"

"What's that? what's that?" cried Chicotin, turning up his sleeves; "do I hear anybody sneering at me? Ah! as I live! I'll smash the principal and his seconds in a second."

"Be quiet," said Roncherolle sternly. Then, walking toward his adversary's two seconds, he said to them:

"I have brought this young man, messieurs, Monsieur Georget, because he is the fiance, the future husband of the young girl whom monsieur attempted to ruin. No one has a better right to be here than he, for the honor of the woman whom he is to marry is the motive of this duel. As for my other second, this honest fellow here, he is only a messenger, it is true, but it was he who saved the young flower girl when, driven to desperation by contemptuous treatment and humiliation, and by the thought of passing for what she was not, she was on the point of jumping into the canal and seeking an end to her suffering there. Do you not think, messieurs, that this honest fellow who brought back hope to Violette's heart, also has a right to be present at a battle which is to rehabilitate her honor? Come, messieurs, which of you will undertake to maintain the contrary, and will blush to have to deal with such seconds? Neither of you, I am sure!"

Saint-Arthur and Astianax contented themselves with bowing low to Roncherolle, who continued:

"Very good, everything is arranged; now, my adversary has the choice of weapons."

"He chooses pistols," said Astianax.

"Pistols it is; I have brought some."

"So have we."

"We will take yours, if you choose; it makes no difference to me. My adversary has the right to fire first also, I recognize that; you see that we shall have no difficulty. Let us go a little way into the woods, and have done with it."

The whole party walked into the woods and stopped in a solitary place, where there was a clearing suitable for the duel. Astianax, having spoken to Jericourt, returned to Roncherolle and said:

"Is fifteen paces satisfactory to you, monsieur?"

"Ordinarily, the seconds would decide such matters among themselves; but no matter, that is satisfactory to me; mark off the distance and I will take my place."

Astianax counted the paces, while Saint-Arthur leaned against a tree at a distance; as for Georget and Chicotin, Roncherolle was obliged to hold them back by his glance.

Young Astianax, having finished measuring the distance, handed to each combatant a pistol, which he took from the box he had brought; then he stood aside, saying:

"They are loaded; I believe there is nothing more for me to do now."

"It is for you to begin, monsieur," said Roncherolle, bowing to Jericourt.

Jericourt took a long aim, then fired; the ball from his pistol grazed his adversary's right side and made him turn slightly; Georget started to run to him, but Roncherolle motioned to him not to stir and speedily resumed his position, saying:

"That was not bad, but it was not quite the thing."

He fired almost instantly, and Jericourt, wounded in the breast, fell to the ground.

The four seconds rushed at once to the assistance of the wounded man, who was already discharging blood through his mouth; and when he saw Georget, he said to him in a faint voice:

"I lied--she is innocent--tell her that I confess, that----"

The unhappy wretch closed his eyes and could say no more; Chicotin took him in his arms and carried him to the carriage which had brought him, which Astianax also entered. As for Saint-Arthur, he had disappeared and they were unable to find him.

Georget ran back to Roncherolle, crying:

"He confessed, monsieur; he confessed; he admitted that he had slandered Violette! all those gentlemen heard him as well as I!"

"That is well, my young friend; that is what I wanted. Now you must give me your arm to help me to walk back to the carriage."

"Oh! are you wounded too, monsieur?"

"A scratch, a mere scratch, but it troubles me when walking. I will lean on you."

"Oh! as hard as you please, monsieur. What a debt of gratitude I owe you! And Violette, when she knows it----"

"I knew perfectly well that she deserved to be defended; but I am very glad to have spared you that trouble; and then, you see, I have done a lot of foolish things in my life, and I am not sorry to do some good now and then."

Chicotin reached the carriage just as Monsieur de Roncherolle and Georget entered it. The young messenger's face was all awry, and he faltered:

"All the same, it gives a man a shock--a young man, who was so well a minute ago----"

"Well? Monsieur Jericourt, how is he?" asked Roncherolle.

"He is stone dead!"