The messenger took from his pocket the pistols Madame Baldimer had given him, and called Albert's attention to them.

"Then this is my last word," he said. "I am ready when you are."

The young man seemed more surprised than alarmed.

"What's this? do you want to fight me, Sans-Cravate?" he said, glancing at the weapons.

"That surprises you, does it? You thought that I would allow myself to be dishonored and say nothing; that I would be satisfied with your excuses? No, no, I must have something more than that. Come, I am waiting for you, monsieur."

"I am sorry, Sans-Cravate, that I cannot give you the satisfaction you ask; but it is out of the question. A young man in my position doesn't fight duels with a messenger!"

"Then a man of your position is content to be a coward and a blackguard.

Then he prefers to be struck and beaten and strangled; and that's what I'll do to you, if you refuse to fight me."

As he spoke, Sans-Cravate, beside himself with rage, sprang at Albert, seized him by the collar, shook him violently, and struck him across the face with the b.u.t.t of one of his pistols. The young man turned purple, and shouted:

"I will fight you, monsieur; yes, you are right; we must fight."

"Ah! that's very lucky!" said the messenger, relaxing his grasp. "Shall it be right away? I'm in a hurry, you see!"

"One always has some arrangements to make before fighting, monsieur."

"I haven't got any."

"I will be ready in two hours. It isn't nine o'clock yet; at eleven, at the latest, be----"

"Behind Romainville Forest, on the slope from Pantin; there are some quarries near there, and we shan't be disturbed."

"Very good; I will be there. Shall you have a second?"

"What for?"

"True; between us, seconds are unnecessary. I shall come in a carriage, with my servant only."

"As you choose. I will go and wait for you, monsieur, and I hope you won't let me take cold."

Sans-Cravate left the house and started at once for the rendezvous. He walked less quickly now, knowing that he had plenty of time before him.

Moreover, he was less excited; the certainty that his vengeance was near at hand appeased his anger. He reflected profoundly. At the moment one is about to risk his life he remembers the persons whom it would be most painful to him to leave forever; and, in spite of himself, Sans-Cravate found that Bastringuette's face often forced its way in among his recollections.

It was hardly half-past ten when the messenger reached the spot agreed upon. He sat on the ground and waited. He was on the slope of Romainville Forest; at his feet were plaster kilns and a brick kiln; in front of him was the village of Pantin; but the road in that direction, bordered with high hedges enclosing gardens, was silent and deserted. To the right were the low hills upon which stands the fortress that commands the whole plain; and in the hollow at the left, four rows of poplar trees, forming a rectangle, seemed to indicate a private estate or a promenade: it was the Pantin cemetery.

Sans-Cravate let his eyes wander in all directions, but frequently turned them toward Pantin, for that was the only direction from which a carriage could reach the rendezvous; so he presumed that Albert would come that way. He took his pistols from his pocket, made sure that they were properly loaded, and heaved a profound sigh.

The weather was fine, but cold. The trees were without leaves, and few people pa.s.sed through the wood; now and then, a peasant went down the hill toward Pantin, a quarryman appeared at the door of his hut, or a soldier on the fortifications; but none of them paid any attention to the messenger.

But as he looked about, Sans-Cravate saw a woman come out of the wood and walk slowly down toward the cemetery. She was a long distance from him, but he could tell by her dress and her bearing that she was not a peasant. A large hat, over which a veil was thrown, made it impossible to distinguish her features; and still Sans-Cravate said to himself as he looked after her:

"It seems to me that I know that woman."

While he was trying to think who it could be, he heard the sound of carriage wheels in the direction of Pantin; and in a moment a cab appeared on the village street, and stopped as near as possible to the foot of the hill leading to the wood.

Sans-Cravate paid no further attention to the woman; he hurried down the slope and soon found himself face to face with Albert, who had left his carriage.

The young man greeted the messenger with a friendly nod, in which there was no trace of resentment or anger, and said, pointing to the cemetery:

"Let us go there; n.o.body but the men working in the brick kiln can see us, and they will not think of interfering with us; on the contrary, they will be grateful to us for affording them such an entertaining spectacle."

Sans-Cravate made no reply, but went with Albert; the servant walked behind, carrying a case of pistols.

When they reached the road that skirted the cemetery, Albert said:

"I see no reason why we should go any farther.--Give me my pistols, Joseph."

The servant opened the case and, trembling like a leaf, handed the pistols to his master. Meanwhile, the messenger, who had taken his from his pocket, offered them to his adversary, saying:

"Would you prefer to take one of these and give me one of yours? It shall be as you choose."

Albert glanced at Sans-Cravate's weapons, and exclaimed:

"The devil! you have some very handsome pistols there, Sans-Cravate!

It's a strange thing, but the more I examine them, the more certain I feel that I know them, that I have seen them somewhere."

"It's quite possible, monsieur, for I got them from an acquaintance of yours. It was Madame Baldimer who gave them to me."

"Baldimer!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Albert. "Ah! yes, it was in her hands that I saw them. I can remember her saying to me laughingly, more than once: 'I mean to kill you with these pistols.'--It seems that she did not say it in jest. Clearly that woman has a bitter grudge against me.--Keep your own weapons, and I will keep mine, and let us take our places."

Albert walked away some fifteen paces, then asked:

"Is this satisfactory to you?"

"Yes, monsieur," Sans-Cravate replied, in a trembling voice.

"Pull yourself together, my poor Sans-Cravate; you seem agitated."

"It's true, monsieur, I am trembling; though you may be sure that it ain't with fear. I've never fought with anything but fists, you see. A man gets hurt that way, but not killed. At all events, I never tried to fight unfair. And when I think that with this little steel tube I may kill you---- Look you, monsieur--if you would--it rests with you----"

"Enough! enough, Sans-Cravate! let's not continue our conversation of this morning. You are the insulted party--fire first."

"No, monsieur; I won't begin."

"It's your right."

"I insulted you this morning, by shaking you; it's your place to begin."

"Listen: my servant will clap his hands three times, and at the third we will fire together."

"That's all right."

Albert told his servant what he was to do. He clapped his hands, turning his head so that he could not see the combatants. At the third signal, Sans-Cravate fired; there was no second report, but Albert fell in the road.