One was a man of some fifty years, tall and thin, with a decidedly unamiable manner, a rigid bearing, and a severely simple costume. The other, who was at least fifteen years younger, with a pleasant face, and dressed in the height of fashion, had all the manners of a modern Don Juan. He entered the room first, and, having glanced about, exclaimed:

"This isn't the place; it can't be; the woman directed us wrong."

"But there are some people here," said the other; "we had better inquire.--Monsieur Cherami, if you please?" he continued, addressing the Auvergnat, who stood in the centre of the room.

The water-carrier buried his chin in his cravat, and answered, without hesitation:

"Very well; we agree."

The old gentleman turned to his companion, who said:

"He did not understand you."--Whereupon he, in his turn, addressed the Auvergnat: "We desire to know, monsieur, if this is where Monsieur Cherami lives."

Again Michel replied in his deep voice:

"Very well; we agree."

At that, the young man burst out laughing.

"Gad!" he exclaimed; "this is evidently a joke, a wager! What do you think about it, Monsieur de Maugrille?"

"I think that we did not come here to joke, and if I knew that there was any purpose to make fools of us----"

Cherami, who was listening, and saw that his seconds were in a fair way to wreck the whole business, hastily left the closet, and saluted the new-comers with much courtesy, saying:

"Pardon, messieurs, a thousand pardons! I crave a little indulgence for my seconds,--most respectable persons, by the way,--one of whom, being a Pole, recently arrived in France, is not able as yet to express his thoughts in our language. As for the other, Monsieur de Saint-Michel, a wealthy land-holder in the outskirts of Clermont, in Auvergne--he is not yet at home in all the details of affairs of this sort. However, messieurs, as I have determined in advance to agree to what Monsieur de la Beriniere may suggest, it seems to me that your mission is very much simplified, and that the affair will settle itself; my seconds are here only as a matter of form."

"Ordinarily, monsieur, the details of a meeting are not arranged with the adversary himself, but with his seconds."

"I know it, monsieur. Pardieu! you cannot teach me how affairs are managed in duels; this isn't the first time I have fought."

"In that case, monsieur," queried the younger man, with a smile, "why did you select seconds who apparently have no understanding of what is going on?"

"Because I found no others at hand, in all probability," retorted Cherami, biting his lips wrathfully. "Come, messieurs, let us come to terms. Is it such a difficult matter, pray, to tell us where, when, and how the count proposes to fight?"

"I beg your pardon, monsieur," observed Monsieur de Maugrille; "but, as I, for my part, insist that everything shall be done in accordance with the established etiquette of duels, I will tell your seconds, and no one else."

"Tell my concierge, if you choose; it makes confounded little difference to me, after all."

"What does that tone mean, monsieur?"

"It means that you make me very weary with all your nonsense; and if you're not satisfied with the tone I adopt, why, I'll give you satisfaction as soon as I have done with the count; or before, if you choose."

"Monsieur!"

The discussion was on the verge of ending in a quarrel, when the Auvergnat, seeing that things seemed to be approaching a crisis, shouted in stentorian tones:

"Very well, _fouchtra!_ very well! We agree, I say!"

This outburst was delivered in such unique fashion by the water-carrier, that the younger of the count's seconds roared with laughter again, and Cherami himself could not keep a sober face. He turned his back and put his handkerchief to his mouth. The old gentleman alone retained an air of displeasure; but his young companion said to him earnestly:

"Come, Monsieur de Maugrille, let us not have trouble over an affair which really seems to me quite simple.--Monsieur de la Beriniere selects swords; he wishes to fight to-morrow, about nine o'clock, in Vincennes Forest; we will meet at the entrance to the forest, near Porte Saint-Mande, on the highroad. Those are our conditions, messieurs; are they satisfactory to you?"

Then or never was the time for the water-carrier to repeat the phrase he had been taught; but, just as it frequently happens on the stage, that, when an actor has begun his lines too soon, he is silent when he ought to speak, so did the Auvergnat look stolidly at the others and utter never a word.

Cherami, who was gazing at him impatiently, at last walked up behind him and struck him in the side, crying:

"Well, Monsieur de Saint-Michel, have you suddenly lost your voice?"

"Ah! bless my soul! what was I thinking about?--Very well, very well! We agree to everything," said the water-carrier.

Thereupon the young man took his companion's arm and led him from the room, laughing still, and saying in his ear:

"I think that we may retire, now that everything is settled."

Cherami saluted them, and escorted them to the door.

"Be sure, monsieur," he said, "that we shall be on hand promptly at the rendezvous; we shall not keep you waiting. By the way! it will be very kind of you to bring swords for both, for I broke mine recently and have not yet replaced it."

"Very good, monsieur; we will do so."

The younger man bowed with much affability; his older a.s.sociate bent his head almost imperceptibly, retaining his ill-humored expression; then they left the house and returned to their carriage.

LIV

TWO!

"Sapristi!" cried Cherami, when the count's witnesses had gone; "I thought that we weren't going to get out of that hole; they had difficulty in swallowing my seconds, and I don't wonder."

"Ain't you satisfied with us?" inquired the water-carrier; "I should say that I said just what you told me to."

"That is to say, you said it when you shouldn't have, and held your tongue when you should have answered."

"I didn't say a single word," observed the Piedmontese.

"It's lucky you didn't! That would have been the last straw! Well, that's all for to-day; you may go back to your cask; but be here to-morrow at half-past seven sharp, dressed just the same; don't forget it!"

"For five francs more apiece?"

"Of course, as that's what we agreed."

"We won't fail."

The next day, the two water-carriers appeared at seven o'clock, each in his costume of the preceding day: the Piedmontese in the late Louchard's green sack-coat and gray hat, which he was obliged to push up from his face every minute, so that he could see where he was going. Cherami dressed in haste; he paid particular attention to his toilet, which presented a striking contrast to that of his two seconds; then he requested his landlady to send for a cab. Madame Louchard was much disturbed when she recognized the coat and hat of her deceased husband on the water-carrier.