CHAPTER XIV.THEnext day, or rather the same day, at ten o’clock, I called upon M. Louis de Franchi.As I was ascending the staircase, I met two young men coming down. One was evidently a civilian, the other wore the Legion of Honour, and though inmuftiI could see he was an officer.I had, no doubt, that these gentlemen had just been with M. de Franchi, and I watched them downstairs. Then I continued my way to Louis’ apartments and rang the bell.The servant opened the door. His master was in his study.When the man announced me, Louis, who was writing, looked up and exclaimed—“Ah, welcome! I was just writing to you. I am very glad to see you. Joseph, I am not at home to any one.”The servant went out and left us alone.“Didn’t you meet two gentlemen upon the stairs?” asked Louis, as he placed a chair.“Yes, one of them was decorated.”“The same.”“I fancied they had called upon you.”“You are quite right.”“Did they come on behalf of M. de Chateau Renaud?”“They are his seconds.”“Ah! so he has taken this matter seriously it seems.”“He could scarcely do otherwise,” replied Louis.“So they came to——.”“To request me to name two friends who would confer with them; I thought of you.”“I am really honoured by your kindness. But I cannot go alone.”“I have also written to ask an old friend, the Baron Giordano Martelli, to breakfast here. He will come at eleven. We will breakfast together, and at twelve, perhaps, you will be kind enough to go and see these gentlemen who have promised to remain at home until three o’clock. Here are their names and addresses.”Louis handed me two cards as he spoke.One card represented the Baron René de Chateaugrand, the other M. Adrien de Boissy.The former lived in the Rue de la Paix, No. 12.The latter, who I now saw, belonged to the army, was a lieutenant of Chasseurs d’Afrique, and lived in the Rue de Lille, No. 29.I turned the cards over and over in my fingers.“Well, what embarrasses you?” asked Louis.“I should like to be told frankly if you look upon this as a serious matter. You know we must mould our conduct upon that.”“Indeed, I do consider it a very serious matter. You heard me place myself at M. de Chateau Renaud’s disposal, he has sent to me. I must now go with the current.”“Yes, of course, but after all——”“Go on,” said Louis, smilingly.“After all,” I continued, “we must know what you are going to fight for. We cannot put two men up to cut and slash each other without having some ground for the encounter.”“Very well, let me tell you in as few words as possible, the head and front of the offending.“When I first arrived in Paris I was introduced by a friend of mine, a captain in the navy, to his wife. She was young and beautiful. She made a deep impression upon me, and as I was really afraid I might end by falling in love with her, I very rarely went to my friend’s house, although frequently pressed to do so.“My friend was rather piqued at my absence, and at last I frankly told him the truth, that his wife being so charming I was rather afraid to go to his house. He laughed, shook hands with me, and asked me, even pressed me, to dine with him that same evening.“ ‘My dear Louis,’ said he, after dinner. ‘In a few weeks I shall sail for Mexico. I may be absent three months, perhaps six—or longer. We sailors sometimes know when we shall sail, but never when we may return. To you, I commend Emily during my absence. Emily, I beg of you to look upon M. Louis de Franchi as a brother.’“The lady gave me her hand in token of agreement. I was stupefied! I did not know what to say, and I daresay I appeared very stupid to my future sister.“Three weeks after this my friend sailed.“During those three weeks he insisted that I should dine at least once a week with themen famille.“Emily’s mother then came to live with her. I need scarcely say that her husband’s confidence was not abused, and though I loved her dearly I regarded her simply as a sister.“Six months elapsed.“Emily’s mother still remained with her, but when hewent away, her husband had entreated her to receive as usual. There was nothing my poor friend had a greater horror of than to appear as a jealous husband. He adored Emily and had every confidence in her.“So Emily continued to receive, and they were very friendly receptions. But her mother’s presence silenced all scandal or cause for it, and no one could say a word against her reputation.“At the end of three months or so M. de Chateau Renaud appeared.“You believe in presentiments, I daresay. When I first saw that man I disliked him and would not speak to him. I hated him.“But why I disliked him I cannot tell you. I did!“Most likely because I saw that even at his first appearance Emily seemed inclined to like him, and he evidently admired her. Perhaps I am mistaken, but, as at the bottom of my heart I had never ceased to love Emily, I suspect I was jealous.“So on the next occasion I did not lose sight of M. de Chateau Renaud. Perhaps he noticed my looks and it seemed to me that he was chatting in undertones to Emily and holding me up to ridicule.“Had I yielded to my feelings I would have challenged him that evening, but I reflected that such conduct would be absurd, and restrained myself.“Every Wednesday thenceforth was a greater trial than the last.“M. de Chateau Renaud is quite a man of the world, a dandy—a lion—I know how superior he is to me in many respects. But it seems to me that Emily values him more highly than he deserves.“Soon I found out that I was not the only one whoremarked her preference for M. de Chateau Renaud, and this preference increased to such an extent and became so obvious that one day Giordano, who like me was an habitué of the house, spoke to me about it.“From that moment my resolution was taken. I determined to speak to Emily on the subject, convinced that she was only acting thoughtlessly and I had but to call her attention to the matter to have it remedied.“But to my great astonishment she took my remonstrances in joke, pretended that I was mad, and that those who agreed with me were as stupid as I was.“However, I insisted.“Emily only replied, that she would leave to my own decision as to whether a man in love was not necessarily a prejudiced judge.“I remained perfectly stupefied; her husband must have told her everything.“Now you will understand that under these circumstances, and being an unhappy and jealous lover, and only making myself objectionable to the lady, I ceased to visit at the house.“But although I did not go to her parties I did not the less hear the gossip that was afloat, nor was I the less unhappy, for these reports were assuming a tangible shape.“I resolved therefore to write to her, and beg her in the strongest language of which I was capable, for her own and her husband’s sake, to be careful. She never answered my letter.“Some time afterwards I heard it publicly stated that Emily was actually the mistress of Chateau Renaud. What I suffered I cannot express.“It was then my poor brother became conscious of my grief.“Then, after about a fortnight, you came back to Paris. The very day you called upon me I received an anonymous letter from a lady unknown appointing a meeting at the Opera Ball.“This woman said that she had certain information to convey to me respecting a lady friend of mine, whose Christian name only she would mention.“The name was Emily.“My correspondent said I should recognize her by her carrying a bouquet of violets.“I told you at the time that I did not wish to go to the ball, but I repeat I was hurried thither by fate.“I went as you know. I found my domino at the place at the hour indicated. She confirmed what I had already heard respecting Chateau Renaud and Emily, and if I wished proof, she would give it me, for Chateau Renaud had made a bet that he would take his new mistress to supper at M. D——’s house that evening.“Chance revealed to me that you knew M. D——, you suggested that I should accompany you. I accepted, you know the rest.”“Now, what more could I do but await and accept the proposals that were made to me?”“But,” I said, at length, as a sensation of fear crossed my mind, “I am afraid I heard your brother say that you had never handled a sword or a pistol.”“That is quite true!”“Then you are absolutely at the mercy of your adversary!”“I cannot help it. I am in the hands of Providence.”CHAPTER XV.ASLouis was speaking, the servant announced the Baron Giordano Martelli.He was a young Corsican from Sartène. He had served in the 11th Regiment, in which his gallantry had secured him promotion at the age of twenty-three.“Well,” he said, after having bowed to me, “so things have come to a crisis, and no doubt you will soon have a visit from the seconds of Monsieur de Chateau Renaud.”“They have been here already.”“I suppose they have left their names and addresses?”“Here are their cards.”“Good.”“Well, your servant has just told me that breakfast is waiting. Suppose we sit down, and after breakfast we can return their visit.”We entered thesalle à manger,and put aside all business for the present.During the meal Louis questioned me closely concerning my journey in Corsica, and I told him all the incidents with which the reader is acquainted. He made me repeat, over and over again, all that his mother and brother had said. He was quite touched, knowing the true Corsican instincts of Lucien, with the care he had taken to reconcile the Orlandi and the Colona.The clock struck twelve.“I do not wish to hurry you, gentlemen,” said Louis, “but I think you should return the visit of those gentlemen. It will not do to put ourselves in the wrong.”“Oh, you may be quite easy on that point,” I said, “we have plenty of time before us.”“No matter,” said the Baron Giordano, “Louis is right.”“Now,” said I, “we must know whether you prefer to fight with sword or pistol?”“Ah,” he replied, “it is all the same to me; I know as little about one as the other. Besides, Monsieur de Chateau Renaud will save me all trouble in choosing; he looks upon himself, no doubt, as the offended party, and as such will retain the choice of weapons.”“However, the offence is doubtful, you only offered your arm, as you were asked to do.”“My opinion is,” said Louis, “that all discussion should tend towards a peaceable arrangement of this matter. My tastes are not warlike, as you know. Far from being a duellist, this is the first affair of the kind I have had, and just for this very reason I wish to come well out of it.”“That is very easy to say, my friend, but you have to play for your life, and you leave to us and before your family the responsibility of the result.”“Ah, as to that you may make your mind quite easy, I know my mother and brother well enough; they would only ask whether I had conducted myself as a brave man, and if you replied in the affirmative they would be satisfied.”“But, hang it, we must know which arm you prefer.”“Well, if they propose pistols, accept them at once.”“That is my advice, also,” said the Baron.“Very well, then, the pistol be it,” I replied, “since that is the advice of both of you, but the pistol is a horrible weapon.”“Have I time to learn to fence between this and to-morrow?”“No, unless, perhaps, you studied Grissier, and then you might learn enough to defend yourself.”Louis smiled.“Believe me,” said he, “that what will happen tomorrow is already written on high, and whatever we may do we cannot alter that.”We then shook hands with him and went downstairs.Our first visit was naturally to the nearer of the two gentlemen who had called on behalf of our adversary.We, therefore, visited Monsieur René de Chateaugrand, who lived, as we have said, at 12, Rue de la Paix.Any other visitors were forbidden while we were calling, and we were at once introduced to his presence.We found Monsieur de Chateaugrand a perfect man of the world—he would not for one moment give us the trouble of calling upon Monsieur de Boissy—he sent his own servant for him.While we were waiting his appearance, we spoke of everything but the subject which had brought usthither, and in about ten minutes Monsieur de Boissy arrived.The two gentlemen did not advance any pretensions to the choice of arms, the sword or pistol was equally familiar to M. de Chateau Renaud. They were quite willing to leave the selection to M. de Franchi, or to toss up. A louis was thrown into the air, face for sword, reverse for pistols. The coin came down reverse.So it was decided. The combat was arranged to take place next morning at nine o’clock, in the wood of Vincennes, where the adversaries would be placed at twenty paces, and after the third signal given by clapping the hands they were to fire.We returned to convey this decision to Louis de Franchi.On my return home the same evening, I found the cards of MM. de Chateaugrand and de Boissy.CHAPTER XVI.ATeight o’clock that evening I called upon M. Louis de Franchi, to inquire whether he had anything to confide to me. But he begged me to wait till next morning, saying:“The night will bring counsel with it.”Next morning, therefore, instead of calling at eight, which would have given us plenty of time to go to the meeting, I called at half-past seven.Louis was already writing in his study.He looked up as I entered, and I noticed how very pale he was.“Excuse me,” he said, “I am writing to my mother. You will find the morning papers there; if you can amuse yourself with them you will see a charming feuilleton by M. Mèry in thePresse.”I took the paper thus indicated, and contrasted the livid pallor of the speaker with his calm and sweet voice.I endeavoured to read, but I could not fix my attention, the letters brought no meaning with them.In about five minutes Louis said,“There, I have finished.” And he rang for his valet.“Joseph,” said he, “I am at home to no one, not even to the Baron Giordano. If he calls, ask him to wait in thesalon.I wish to be alone with this gentlemen for ten minutes.”The valet shut the door and disappeared.“Now, my dear Alexander, listen. Giordano is a Corsican, and has Corsican ideas. I cannot, therefore, confide all I desire to him. I will ask him to keep the secret, that’s all. But as regards yourself, I wish you, if you will permit me, to request that you will promise to observe my instructions.”“Certainly. Is not that the duty of a second?”“A duty more real than you imagine, for you can save our family a second misfortune if you will.”“A second misfortune!” I exclaimed.“Wait. Read this letter.”I took the letter addressed to Madame de Franchi, and read as follows, with growing astonishment:—“MY DEARESTMOTHER,—“If I did not know that you possessed Spartan fortitude allied with Christian submission, I would have used means to prepare you for the blow in store for you—for when you receive this letter you will have but one son!“Lucien, my dear brother, love our mother forbothin future.“For some time I have been suffering from brain fever. I paid no attention to the premonitory symptoms—the doctor came too late. Darling mother, there is no hope for me now. I cannot be saved but by a miracle, and what right have I to suppose that Providence will work a miracle on my behalf?“I am writing to you in a lucid interval. If I die, this letter will be posted immediately after my death; for in the selfishness of my love for you I wish thatyou should know that I am dead without regretting anything in the world except your tenderness and my brother’s.“Adieu, mother!“Do not weep for me. It is the soul that lives, not the body, and when the latter perishes the former will still live and love you.“Adieu, Lucien! Never leave our mother; and remember that she has you only to look to now.“Your Son,“Your Brother,“LOUIS DEFRANCHI.”When I had finished the letter I turned to the writer and said—“Well, and what does this mean?”“Do you not understand?” he said.“No!”“I am going to be shot at ten minutes past nine.”“You are going to be shot?”“Yes.”“You are mad! Why, what has put such an idea into your head?”“I am not mad, my dear friend. I have been warned—that’s all.”“Warned! By whom?”“My brother has already told you, I think, that the male members of our family enjoy a singular privilege?”“True,” I replied, shuddering, in spite of myself. “He spoke to me about apparitions.”“Quite so. Well, then, my father appeared to melast night. That is why you find me so pallid. The sight of the dead pales the living!”I gazed at him with astonishment, not unmixed with terror.“You saw your father last night, you say?”“Yes.”“And he spoke to you?”“He announced my death!”“Oh, it was some terrible dream!”“It was a terriblereality.”“You were asleep, my friend.”“I was wide awake. Do you not believe that a father can appear to his son?”I hung my head, for at the bottom of my heart Ididbelieve in the possibility.“What passed between you?” I asked.“It is a very simple and very natural story. I was reading, expecting my father—for I knew if any danger threatened that he would appear to me—and at midnight the lamp burnt low, the door opened slowly, and my father appeared.”“In what form?” I asked.“Just as if he were alive—dressed in his usual manner—only he was very pale, and his eyes were without expression.”“Good heavens!” I ejaculated.“He slowly approached my bed. I raised myself with my elbow, and said, ‘You are welcome, father.’“He came close, and regarded me fixedly, and it then appeared to me as if some sort of paternal solicitude was expressed in his face.”“Go on,” I said; “this is terrible!”“Then his lips moved, and, though I could hear no sound, I seemed to hear his words distinctly, though distant as an echo.”“What did he say?”“ ‘Think of God, my son!’“ ‘I shall be killed in this duel, then?’ I asked.“I saw the tears roll down the pallid visage of the spectre.“ ‘And at what hour?’“He pointed towards the timepiece. I followed the direction of his finger. The clock showed ten minutes past nine.“ ‘So be it, my father,’ I said; ‘God’s will be done. I leave my mother, but I rejoin you.’“Then a faint smile passed over his face, he waved me a sign of farewell and glided away.“The door opened as he advanced towards it, and when he had disappeared it shut of its own accord.”This recital was so simply and so naturally told, that it was evident to me the event had occurred just as de Franchi had related it, or he was the victim of an illusion, which he had believed to be real in consequence of the pre-occupation of his mind, and was therefore all the more terrible.I wiped the perspiration from my forehead.“Now,” continued Louis; “you know my brother, don’t you?”“Yes.”“What do you think he will do when he learns that I have been killed in a duel?”“He will leave Sullacaro at once to challenge the man who has killed you.”“Just so, and if he is killed in his turn, my mother will be thrice a widow; widowed by the loss of her husband, widowed by the loss of her two sons.”“Ah! I understand. This is fearful!”“Well, this must be avoided, and that is why I have written this letter. Believing that I have died from brain fever my brother will not seek to avenge me, and my mother will be the more easily consoled, knowing it was the will of God, and that I did not fall by the hand of man. At least——”“At least what?” I repeated.“Oh, nothing,” replied Louis. “I hope that will not come to pass.”I saw that he was referring to some personal fear, and I did not insist farther.At this moment the door opened, and the Baron de Giordano entered.“My dear de Franchi,” he said, “I respect your privacy more than anything, but it is past eight, and the meeting is appointed for nine; we have quite a league and a half to drive, and we should start at once.”“I am ready, my dear fellow,” said Louis. “I have told my friend here all I had to say to him.”He put his finger on his lips as our eyes met.“For you, my friend,” he continued, turning to the table and taking up a sealed letter, “there is this; if anything should happen to me read this letter, and I pray you to carry out my request contained in it.”“To the very letter,” replied the Baron.“You were to provide the arms,” said Louis.“Yes,” I replied, “but just as I was coming away I found that one of the dogs did not bark properly, so we shall be obliged to get a case of pistols from Devisme.”Louis looked at me, smiled, and held out his hand. He knew quite well that I did not wish to see him killed with my pistols.“Have you a carriage?” he asked; “if not I will send Joseph for one.”“My coupé is here,” said the Baron, “and can carry three at a pinch; besides, my horses will take us more quickly than afiacre.”“Let us go,” said Louis.We went downstairs. Joseph was waiting at the door.“Shall I accompany you, sir?” he said.“No, Joseph,” replied his master, “I shall not require your services to-day.”Then, stepping back a pace and pressing a roll of gold into the man’s hand, he said, “Take this, and if at any time I have appeared brusque to you, pardon my ill-humour.”“Oh, monsieur!” said Joseph, with tears in his eyes, “what is the meaning of this?”“Chut!” said Louis, and he sprang into the carriage.“He is a good servant,” he murmured, “and if either of you can ever be of use to him I shall be obliged.”“Is he about to leave you?” said the Baron.“No,” said Louis, smiling; “I am leaving him, that is all!”We stopped at Devismes just long enough to secure a case of pistols, powder and bullets, and then resumed our way at a brisk trot.CHAPTER XVII.WEreached Vincennes at five minutes to nine.Another carriage, that of Chateau Renaud, arrived at the same time.We proceeded into the wood by different paths. Our carriages were to await us in the broad avenue. A few minutes later we met at the rendezvous.“Gentlemen,” said Louis, “recollect that no arrangement is possible now.”“Nevertheless——,” I said“Oh, my dear sir,” he replied, “after what I have told you, you should be the last person to think that any reconciliation is possible.”I bowed before this absolute will, which for me was supreme.We left Louis near the carriages, and advanced towards M. de Boissy and M. de Chateaugrand.The Baron de Giordano carried the case of pistols.The seconds exchanged salutes.“Gentlemen,” said the Baron, “under these circumstances the shortest compliments are the best, for we may be interrupted any moment. We were requested to provide weapons—here they are. Examine them if you please. We have just procured them from the gunsmith, and we give you our word of honour that M. Louis de Franchi has not even seen them.”“Such an assurance is unnecessary, gentlemen,” replied Chateaugrand, “we know with whom we have todeal,” and taking one pistol, while M. de Boissy took the other, the seconds examined the bore.“These are ordinary pistols, and have never been used,” said the Baron; “now the question is, how shall the principals fire.”“My advice,” said M. de Boissy, “is that they should fire just as they are accustomed to do, together.”“Very well,” said the Baron Giordano, “then all chances are equalized.”“Will you advise M. de Franchi, then, and we will tell M. de Chateau Renaud, monsieur.”“Now that is settled, will you have the goodness to load the pistols?”Each one took a pistol, measured carefully the charges of powder, took two bullets at hazard, and rammed them home.While the weapons were being loaded, I approached Louis, who received me with a smile.“You won’t forget what I asked you?” he said, “and you will obtain from Giordano a promise that he will say nothing to my mother, or even to my brother. Will you take care, also, that this affair does not get into the papers, or, if it does, that no names are mentioned.”“You are still of opinion, then, this duel will prove fatal to you?” I said.“I am more than ever convinced of it,” he replied, “but you will do me this justice at least, that I met death like a true Corsican.”“My dear de Franchi, your calmness is so astounding that it gives me hopes that you yourself are not convinced on this point.”Louis took out his watch.“I have but seven minutes to live,” he said; “here is my watch, keep it, I beg of you, in remembrance of me.” I took the watch, and shook my friend’s hand.“In eight minutes I hope to restore it to you,” I said.“Don’t speak of that,” he replied. “See, here are the others.”“Gentlemen,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand, “a little distance from here, on the right, is an open space where I had a little practice of my own last year; shall we proceed thither—we shall be less liable to interruption.”“If you will lead the way,” said the Baron Giordano, “we will follow.”The Viscount preceded us to the spot indicated. It was about thirty paces distant, at the bottom of a gentle slope surrounded on all sides by a screen of brushwood, and seemed fitted by nature as the theatre of such an event as was about to take place.“M. Martelli,” said the Viscount, “will you measure the distance by me?” The Baron assented, and thus side by side he and M. de Chateaugrand measured twenty ordinary paces.I was then left for a few seconds alone with M. de Franchi.“Apropos,” he said, “you will find my will on the table where I was writing when you came in this morning.”“Good,” I replied, “you may rest quite easy on that score.”“When you are ready, gentlemen,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand.“I am here,” replied Louis. “Adieu, dear friend! thank you for all the trouble you have taken for me,without counting all you will have to do for me later on.” I pressed his hand. It was cold, but perfectly steady.“Now,” I said, “forget the apparition of last night, and aim your best.”“You remember de Freyschutz?”“Yes.”“Well, you know, then, that every bullet has its billet. Adieu!”He met the Baron Giordano, who handed him the pistol; he took it, and, without looking at it, went and placed himself at the spot marked by the handkerchief.M. de Chateau Renaud had already taken up his position.There was a moment of mournful silence, during which the young men saluted their seconds, then their adversary’s seconds, and finally each other.M. de Chateau Renaud appeared perfectly accustomed to these affairs, and was smiling like a man sure of success; perhaps, also, he was aware that Louis de Franchi never had fired a pistol in his life.Louis was calm and collected, his fine head looked almost like a marble bust.“Well, gentlemen,” said Chateau Renaud, “you see we are waiting.”Louis gave me one last glance, and smiling, raised his eyes to heaven.“Now, gentlemen, make ready,” said Chateaugrand. Then, striking his hands one against the other, he cried—“One! Two! Three!”The two shots made but one detonation.An instant afterwards I saw Louis de Franchi turn round twice and then fall upon one knee.M. de Chateau Renaud remained upright. The lappel of his coat had been shot through.I rushed towards Louis de Franchi.“You are wounded?” I said.He attempted to reply, but in vain. A red froth appeared upon his lips.At the same moment he let fall his pistol, and pressed his hand against his right side.On looking closely, we perceived a tiny hole not large enough for the point of a little finger.I begged the Baron to hasten to the barracks, and bring the surgeon of the regiment.But de Franchi collected all his strength, and stopping Giordano, signed that all assistance would be useless. This exertion caused him to fall on both knees.M. de Chateau Renaud kept at a distance, but his seconds now approached the wounded man.Meanwhile, we had opened his coat and torn away his waistcoat and shirt.The ball had entered the right side, below the sixth rib, and had come out a little above the left hip.At each breath the wounded man drew, the blood welled out. It was evident he was mortally hurt.“M. de Franchi,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand, “we regret extremely the issue of this sad affair. We trust you bear no malice against M. de Chateau Renaud.”“Yes, yes,” murmured the wounded man, “I forgive him.”Then turning towards me with an effort he said,“Remember your promise!”“I swear to you I will do all you wish.”“And now,” he said, smiling, “look at the watch!”He breathed a long sigh, and fell back. That sigh was his last.I looked at the watch, it was exactly ten minutes past nine.I turned to Louis de Franchi—he was dead.We took back the body to the Rue de Helder, and while the Baron went to make the usual declaration to the Commissary of Police, I went upstairs with Joseph.The poor lad was weeping bitterly.As I entered, my eyes unconsciously turned towards the timepiece; it marked ten minutes past nine.No doubt he had forgotten to wind it, and it had stopped at that hour.The Baron Giordano returned almost immediately with the officers, who put the seals on the property.The Baron wished to advise the relatives and friends of the affair, but I begged him, before he did so, to read the letter that Louis had handed to him before we set out that morning.The letter contained his request that the cause of his death should be concealed from his brother, and that his funeral should be as quiet as possible.The Baron Giordano charged himself with these details, and I sought MM. de Boissy and de Chateaugrand, to request their silence respecting the unhappy affair, and to induce Chateau Renaud to leave Paris for a time, without mentioning my reason for this last suggestion.They promised me to do all they could to meet my views, and as I walked to Chateau Renaud’s house I posted the letter to Madame de Franchi, informing her that her son had died of brain fever.CHAPTER XVIII.CONTRARYto custom, the duel was very little talked about; even the papers were silent on the subject.A few intimate friends followed the body to Père la Chaise. Chateau Renaud refused to quit Paris, although pressed to do so.At one time I thought of following Louis’ letter to Corsica with one from myself, but although my intentions were good, the misleading statements I should have to make were so repugnant to me that I did not do so. Besides, I was quite convinced that Louis himself had fully weighed before he had decided upon his course of action.So at the risk of being thought indifferent, or even ungrateful, I kept silence, and I was sure that the Baron Giordano had done as much.Five days after the duel, at about eleven o’clock in the evening, I was seated by my table in a rather melancholy frame of mind, when my servant entered and shutting the door quickly behind him said, in an agitated whisper, that M. de Franchi desired to speak with me.I looked at him steadily; he was quite pale.“Whom did you say, Victor?” I asked.“Oh, monsieur, in truth I hardly know myself.”“What M. de Franchi wishes to speak to me?”“Monsieur’s friend. The gentleman who was here two or three times.”“You are mad, my good man. Do you not know that I had the misfortune to lose my friend five days ago?”“Yes, sir; and that is the reason I am so upset. He rang, I was in the ante-chamber, and opened thedoor, but recoiled at his appearance. However, he entered, and asked if you were at home. I replied that you were, and then he said, ‘Go and announce M. de Franchi, who wishes to speak with your master,’ and so I came.”“You are stupid, Victor, the ante-chamber is not properly lighted. You were asleep, no doubt, and did not hear correctly. Go, and ask the gentleman his name.”“It would be useless, sir. I swear to you I am not deceived. I heard him, and saw him, distinctly.”“Then go and show him in.”Victor turned tremblingly to the door, opened it, and then standing still in the room, said—“Will monsieur be kind enough to come in?”I immediately heard the footsteps of my visitor crossing the ante-chamber, and sure enough, at the door there appeared M. de Franchi.I confess that I was terrified, and took a step backwards as he approached.“I trust you will excuse my appearance so late,” said my visitor; “I only arrived ten minutes ago, and you will understand that I could not wait till tomorrow without seeing you.”“Oh, my dear Lucien,” I exclaimed, advancing quickly, and embracing him. “Then it is really you.” And, in spite of myself, tears really came into my eyes.“Yes,” he said, “it is I.”I made a calculation of the time that had elapsed, and could scarcely imagine that he had received the letter—it could hardly have reached Ajaccio yet.“Good Heavens! then you do not know what has happened?” I exclaimed.“I know all,” was his reply.“Victor,” I said, turning towards my servant, who was still rather embarrassed, “leave us, and return in a quarter of an hour with some supper. You will have something to eat, and will sleep here of course.”“With great pleasure,” he replied. “I have eaten nothing since we left Auxerre. Then, as to lodgings, as nobody knew me in the Rue de Helder, or rather,” he added, with a sad smile, “as everybody recognized me there, they declined to let me in, so I left the whole house in a state of alarm.”“In fact, my dear Lucien, your resemblance to Louis is so very striking that even I myself was just now taken aback.”“How,” exclaimed Victor, who had not yet ventured to leave us. “Is monsieur the brother——”“Yes,” I replied, “go and get supper.”Victor went out, and we found ourselves alone.I took Lucien by the hand, and leading him to an easy chair seated myself near him.“I suppose (I began) you were on your way to Paris when the fatal news met you?”“No, I was at Sullacaro!”“Impossible! Why your brother’s letter could not have reached you.”“You forget the ballad ofBurger,my dear Alexander—the dead travel fast!”I shuddered! “I do not understand,” I said.“Have you forgotten what I told you about the apparitions familiar to our family?”“Do you mean to say that you haveseenyour dead brother?”—“Yes.”—“When?”“On the night of the 16th inst.”“And he told you everything?”—“All!”“That he was dead?”“He told me that he had been killed. The dead never lie!”“And he said in what way?”“In a duel.”“By whom?”“By M. de Chateau Renaud.”“Oh no, Lucien, that cannot be,” I exclaimed, “you have obtained your information in some other way.”“Do you think I am likely to joke at such a time?”“I beg your pardon. But truly what you tell me is so strange, and everything that relates to you and your brother so out of ordinary nature, that——”“That you hesitate to believe it. Well, I can understand the feeling. But wait. My brother was hit here,” he continued, as he opened his shirt and showed me the blue mark of the bullet on his flesh, “he was wounded above the sixth rib on the right side—do you believe that?”“As a matter of fact,” I replied, “that is the very spot where he was hit.”“And the bullet went out here,” continued Lucien, putting his finger just above his left hip.“It is miraculous,” I exclaimed.“And now,” he went on, “do you wish me to tell you the time he died?”“Tell me!”“At ten minutes past nine.”“That will do, Lucien;” I said, “but I lose myself in questions. Give me a connected narrative of the events. I should prefer it.”
THEnext day, or rather the same day, at ten o’clock, I called upon M. Louis de Franchi.
As I was ascending the staircase, I met two young men coming down. One was evidently a civilian, the other wore the Legion of Honour, and though inmuftiI could see he was an officer.
I had, no doubt, that these gentlemen had just been with M. de Franchi, and I watched them downstairs. Then I continued my way to Louis’ apartments and rang the bell.
The servant opened the door. His master was in his study.
When the man announced me, Louis, who was writing, looked up and exclaimed—
“Ah, welcome! I was just writing to you. I am very glad to see you. Joseph, I am not at home to any one.”
The servant went out and left us alone.
“Didn’t you meet two gentlemen upon the stairs?” asked Louis, as he placed a chair.
“Yes, one of them was decorated.”
“The same.”
“I fancied they had called upon you.”
“You are quite right.”
“Did they come on behalf of M. de Chateau Renaud?”
“They are his seconds.”
“Ah! so he has taken this matter seriously it seems.”
“He could scarcely do otherwise,” replied Louis.
“So they came to——.”
“To request me to name two friends who would confer with them; I thought of you.”
“I am really honoured by your kindness. But I cannot go alone.”
“I have also written to ask an old friend, the Baron Giordano Martelli, to breakfast here. He will come at eleven. We will breakfast together, and at twelve, perhaps, you will be kind enough to go and see these gentlemen who have promised to remain at home until three o’clock. Here are their names and addresses.”
Louis handed me two cards as he spoke.
One card represented the Baron René de Chateaugrand, the other M. Adrien de Boissy.
The former lived in the Rue de la Paix, No. 12.
The latter, who I now saw, belonged to the army, was a lieutenant of Chasseurs d’Afrique, and lived in the Rue de Lille, No. 29.
I turned the cards over and over in my fingers.
“Well, what embarrasses you?” asked Louis.
“I should like to be told frankly if you look upon this as a serious matter. You know we must mould our conduct upon that.”
“Indeed, I do consider it a very serious matter. You heard me place myself at M. de Chateau Renaud’s disposal, he has sent to me. I must now go with the current.”
“Yes, of course, but after all——”
“Go on,” said Louis, smilingly.
“After all,” I continued, “we must know what you are going to fight for. We cannot put two men up to cut and slash each other without having some ground for the encounter.”
“Very well, let me tell you in as few words as possible, the head and front of the offending.
“When I first arrived in Paris I was introduced by a friend of mine, a captain in the navy, to his wife. She was young and beautiful. She made a deep impression upon me, and as I was really afraid I might end by falling in love with her, I very rarely went to my friend’s house, although frequently pressed to do so.
“My friend was rather piqued at my absence, and at last I frankly told him the truth, that his wife being so charming I was rather afraid to go to his house. He laughed, shook hands with me, and asked me, even pressed me, to dine with him that same evening.
“ ‘My dear Louis,’ said he, after dinner. ‘In a few weeks I shall sail for Mexico. I may be absent three months, perhaps six—or longer. We sailors sometimes know when we shall sail, but never when we may return. To you, I commend Emily during my absence. Emily, I beg of you to look upon M. Louis de Franchi as a brother.’
“The lady gave me her hand in token of agreement. I was stupefied! I did not know what to say, and I daresay I appeared very stupid to my future sister.
“Three weeks after this my friend sailed.
“During those three weeks he insisted that I should dine at least once a week with themen famille.
“Emily’s mother then came to live with her. I need scarcely say that her husband’s confidence was not abused, and though I loved her dearly I regarded her simply as a sister.
“Six months elapsed.
“Emily’s mother still remained with her, but when hewent away, her husband had entreated her to receive as usual. There was nothing my poor friend had a greater horror of than to appear as a jealous husband. He adored Emily and had every confidence in her.
“So Emily continued to receive, and they were very friendly receptions. But her mother’s presence silenced all scandal or cause for it, and no one could say a word against her reputation.
“At the end of three months or so M. de Chateau Renaud appeared.
“You believe in presentiments, I daresay. When I first saw that man I disliked him and would not speak to him. I hated him.
“But why I disliked him I cannot tell you. I did!
“Most likely because I saw that even at his first appearance Emily seemed inclined to like him, and he evidently admired her. Perhaps I am mistaken, but, as at the bottom of my heart I had never ceased to love Emily, I suspect I was jealous.
“So on the next occasion I did not lose sight of M. de Chateau Renaud. Perhaps he noticed my looks and it seemed to me that he was chatting in undertones to Emily and holding me up to ridicule.
“Had I yielded to my feelings I would have challenged him that evening, but I reflected that such conduct would be absurd, and restrained myself.
“Every Wednesday thenceforth was a greater trial than the last.
“M. de Chateau Renaud is quite a man of the world, a dandy—a lion—I know how superior he is to me in many respects. But it seems to me that Emily values him more highly than he deserves.
“Soon I found out that I was not the only one whoremarked her preference for M. de Chateau Renaud, and this preference increased to such an extent and became so obvious that one day Giordano, who like me was an habitué of the house, spoke to me about it.
“From that moment my resolution was taken. I determined to speak to Emily on the subject, convinced that she was only acting thoughtlessly and I had but to call her attention to the matter to have it remedied.
“But to my great astonishment she took my remonstrances in joke, pretended that I was mad, and that those who agreed with me were as stupid as I was.
“However, I insisted.
“Emily only replied, that she would leave to my own decision as to whether a man in love was not necessarily a prejudiced judge.
“I remained perfectly stupefied; her husband must have told her everything.
“Now you will understand that under these circumstances, and being an unhappy and jealous lover, and only making myself objectionable to the lady, I ceased to visit at the house.
“But although I did not go to her parties I did not the less hear the gossip that was afloat, nor was I the less unhappy, for these reports were assuming a tangible shape.
“I resolved therefore to write to her, and beg her in the strongest language of which I was capable, for her own and her husband’s sake, to be careful. She never answered my letter.
“Some time afterwards I heard it publicly stated that Emily was actually the mistress of Chateau Renaud. What I suffered I cannot express.
“It was then my poor brother became conscious of my grief.
“Then, after about a fortnight, you came back to Paris. The very day you called upon me I received an anonymous letter from a lady unknown appointing a meeting at the Opera Ball.
“This woman said that she had certain information to convey to me respecting a lady friend of mine, whose Christian name only she would mention.
“The name was Emily.
“My correspondent said I should recognize her by her carrying a bouquet of violets.
“I told you at the time that I did not wish to go to the ball, but I repeat I was hurried thither by fate.
“I went as you know. I found my domino at the place at the hour indicated. She confirmed what I had already heard respecting Chateau Renaud and Emily, and if I wished proof, she would give it me, for Chateau Renaud had made a bet that he would take his new mistress to supper at M. D——’s house that evening.
“Chance revealed to me that you knew M. D——, you suggested that I should accompany you. I accepted, you know the rest.”
“Now, what more could I do but await and accept the proposals that were made to me?”
“But,” I said, at length, as a sensation of fear crossed my mind, “I am afraid I heard your brother say that you had never handled a sword or a pistol.”
“That is quite true!”
“Then you are absolutely at the mercy of your adversary!”
“I cannot help it. I am in the hands of Providence.”
ASLouis was speaking, the servant announced the Baron Giordano Martelli.
He was a young Corsican from Sartène. He had served in the 11th Regiment, in which his gallantry had secured him promotion at the age of twenty-three.
“Well,” he said, after having bowed to me, “so things have come to a crisis, and no doubt you will soon have a visit from the seconds of Monsieur de Chateau Renaud.”
“They have been here already.”
“I suppose they have left their names and addresses?”
“Here are their cards.”
“Good.”
“Well, your servant has just told me that breakfast is waiting. Suppose we sit down, and after breakfast we can return their visit.”
We entered thesalle à manger,and put aside all business for the present.
During the meal Louis questioned me closely concerning my journey in Corsica, and I told him all the incidents with which the reader is acquainted. He made me repeat, over and over again, all that his mother and brother had said. He was quite touched, knowing the true Corsican instincts of Lucien, with the care he had taken to reconcile the Orlandi and the Colona.
The clock struck twelve.
“I do not wish to hurry you, gentlemen,” said Louis, “but I think you should return the visit of those gentlemen. It will not do to put ourselves in the wrong.”
“Oh, you may be quite easy on that point,” I said, “we have plenty of time before us.”
“No matter,” said the Baron Giordano, “Louis is right.”
“Now,” said I, “we must know whether you prefer to fight with sword or pistol?”
“Ah,” he replied, “it is all the same to me; I know as little about one as the other. Besides, Monsieur de Chateau Renaud will save me all trouble in choosing; he looks upon himself, no doubt, as the offended party, and as such will retain the choice of weapons.”
“However, the offence is doubtful, you only offered your arm, as you were asked to do.”
“My opinion is,” said Louis, “that all discussion should tend towards a peaceable arrangement of this matter. My tastes are not warlike, as you know. Far from being a duellist, this is the first affair of the kind I have had, and just for this very reason I wish to come well out of it.”
“That is very easy to say, my friend, but you have to play for your life, and you leave to us and before your family the responsibility of the result.”
“Ah, as to that you may make your mind quite easy, I know my mother and brother well enough; they would only ask whether I had conducted myself as a brave man, and if you replied in the affirmative they would be satisfied.”
“But, hang it, we must know which arm you prefer.”
“Well, if they propose pistols, accept them at once.”
“That is my advice, also,” said the Baron.
“Very well, then, the pistol be it,” I replied, “since that is the advice of both of you, but the pistol is a horrible weapon.”
“Have I time to learn to fence between this and to-morrow?”
“No, unless, perhaps, you studied Grissier, and then you might learn enough to defend yourself.”
Louis smiled.
“Believe me,” said he, “that what will happen tomorrow is already written on high, and whatever we may do we cannot alter that.”
We then shook hands with him and went downstairs.
Our first visit was naturally to the nearer of the two gentlemen who had called on behalf of our adversary.
We, therefore, visited Monsieur René de Chateaugrand, who lived, as we have said, at 12, Rue de la Paix.
Any other visitors were forbidden while we were calling, and we were at once introduced to his presence.
We found Monsieur de Chateaugrand a perfect man of the world—he would not for one moment give us the trouble of calling upon Monsieur de Boissy—he sent his own servant for him.
While we were waiting his appearance, we spoke of everything but the subject which had brought usthither, and in about ten minutes Monsieur de Boissy arrived.
The two gentlemen did not advance any pretensions to the choice of arms, the sword or pistol was equally familiar to M. de Chateau Renaud. They were quite willing to leave the selection to M. de Franchi, or to toss up. A louis was thrown into the air, face for sword, reverse for pistols. The coin came down reverse.
So it was decided. The combat was arranged to take place next morning at nine o’clock, in the wood of Vincennes, where the adversaries would be placed at twenty paces, and after the third signal given by clapping the hands they were to fire.
We returned to convey this decision to Louis de Franchi.
On my return home the same evening, I found the cards of MM. de Chateaugrand and de Boissy.
ATeight o’clock that evening I called upon M. Louis de Franchi, to inquire whether he had anything to confide to me. But he begged me to wait till next morning, saying:
“The night will bring counsel with it.”
Next morning, therefore, instead of calling at eight, which would have given us plenty of time to go to the meeting, I called at half-past seven.
Louis was already writing in his study.
He looked up as I entered, and I noticed how very pale he was.
“Excuse me,” he said, “I am writing to my mother. You will find the morning papers there; if you can amuse yourself with them you will see a charming feuilleton by M. Mèry in thePresse.”
I took the paper thus indicated, and contrasted the livid pallor of the speaker with his calm and sweet voice.
I endeavoured to read, but I could not fix my attention, the letters brought no meaning with them.
In about five minutes Louis said,
“There, I have finished.” And he rang for his valet.
“Joseph,” said he, “I am at home to no one, not even to the Baron Giordano. If he calls, ask him to wait in thesalon.I wish to be alone with this gentlemen for ten minutes.”
The valet shut the door and disappeared.
“Now, my dear Alexander, listen. Giordano is a Corsican, and has Corsican ideas. I cannot, therefore, confide all I desire to him. I will ask him to keep the secret, that’s all. But as regards yourself, I wish you, if you will permit me, to request that you will promise to observe my instructions.”
“Certainly. Is not that the duty of a second?”
“A duty more real than you imagine, for you can save our family a second misfortune if you will.”
“A second misfortune!” I exclaimed.
“Wait. Read this letter.”
I took the letter addressed to Madame de Franchi, and read as follows, with growing astonishment:—
“MY DEARESTMOTHER,—
“If I did not know that you possessed Spartan fortitude allied with Christian submission, I would have used means to prepare you for the blow in store for you—for when you receive this letter you will have but one son!
“Lucien, my dear brother, love our mother forbothin future.
“For some time I have been suffering from brain fever. I paid no attention to the premonitory symptoms—the doctor came too late. Darling mother, there is no hope for me now. I cannot be saved but by a miracle, and what right have I to suppose that Providence will work a miracle on my behalf?
“I am writing to you in a lucid interval. If I die, this letter will be posted immediately after my death; for in the selfishness of my love for you I wish thatyou should know that I am dead without regretting anything in the world except your tenderness and my brother’s.
“Adieu, mother!
“Do not weep for me. It is the soul that lives, not the body, and when the latter perishes the former will still live and love you.
“Adieu, Lucien! Never leave our mother; and remember that she has you only to look to now.
“Your Son,
“Your Brother,
“LOUIS DEFRANCHI.”
When I had finished the letter I turned to the writer and said—
“Well, and what does this mean?”
“Do you not understand?” he said.
“No!”
“I am going to be shot at ten minutes past nine.”
“You are going to be shot?”
“Yes.”
“You are mad! Why, what has put such an idea into your head?”
“I am not mad, my dear friend. I have been warned—that’s all.”
“Warned! By whom?”
“My brother has already told you, I think, that the male members of our family enjoy a singular privilege?”
“True,” I replied, shuddering, in spite of myself. “He spoke to me about apparitions.”
“Quite so. Well, then, my father appeared to melast night. That is why you find me so pallid. The sight of the dead pales the living!”
I gazed at him with astonishment, not unmixed with terror.
“You saw your father last night, you say?”
“Yes.”
“And he spoke to you?”
“He announced my death!”
“Oh, it was some terrible dream!”
“It was a terriblereality.”
“You were asleep, my friend.”
“I was wide awake. Do you not believe that a father can appear to his son?”
I hung my head, for at the bottom of my heart Ididbelieve in the possibility.
“What passed between you?” I asked.
“It is a very simple and very natural story. I was reading, expecting my father—for I knew if any danger threatened that he would appear to me—and at midnight the lamp burnt low, the door opened slowly, and my father appeared.”
“In what form?” I asked.
“Just as if he were alive—dressed in his usual manner—only he was very pale, and his eyes were without expression.”
“Good heavens!” I ejaculated.
“He slowly approached my bed. I raised myself with my elbow, and said, ‘You are welcome, father.’
“He came close, and regarded me fixedly, and it then appeared to me as if some sort of paternal solicitude was expressed in his face.”
“Go on,” I said; “this is terrible!”
“Then his lips moved, and, though I could hear no sound, I seemed to hear his words distinctly, though distant as an echo.”
“What did he say?”
“ ‘Think of God, my son!’
“ ‘I shall be killed in this duel, then?’ I asked.
“I saw the tears roll down the pallid visage of the spectre.
“ ‘And at what hour?’
“He pointed towards the timepiece. I followed the direction of his finger. The clock showed ten minutes past nine.
“ ‘So be it, my father,’ I said; ‘God’s will be done. I leave my mother, but I rejoin you.’
“Then a faint smile passed over his face, he waved me a sign of farewell and glided away.
“The door opened as he advanced towards it, and when he had disappeared it shut of its own accord.”
This recital was so simply and so naturally told, that it was evident to me the event had occurred just as de Franchi had related it, or he was the victim of an illusion, which he had believed to be real in consequence of the pre-occupation of his mind, and was therefore all the more terrible.
I wiped the perspiration from my forehead.
“Now,” continued Louis; “you know my brother, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“What do you think he will do when he learns that I have been killed in a duel?”
“He will leave Sullacaro at once to challenge the man who has killed you.”
“Just so, and if he is killed in his turn, my mother will be thrice a widow; widowed by the loss of her husband, widowed by the loss of her two sons.”
“Ah! I understand. This is fearful!”
“Well, this must be avoided, and that is why I have written this letter. Believing that I have died from brain fever my brother will not seek to avenge me, and my mother will be the more easily consoled, knowing it was the will of God, and that I did not fall by the hand of man. At least——”
“At least what?” I repeated.
“Oh, nothing,” replied Louis. “I hope that will not come to pass.”
I saw that he was referring to some personal fear, and I did not insist farther.
At this moment the door opened, and the Baron de Giordano entered.
“My dear de Franchi,” he said, “I respect your privacy more than anything, but it is past eight, and the meeting is appointed for nine; we have quite a league and a half to drive, and we should start at once.”
“I am ready, my dear fellow,” said Louis. “I have told my friend here all I had to say to him.”
He put his finger on his lips as our eyes met.
“For you, my friend,” he continued, turning to the table and taking up a sealed letter, “there is this; if anything should happen to me read this letter, and I pray you to carry out my request contained in it.”
“To the very letter,” replied the Baron.
“You were to provide the arms,” said Louis.
“Yes,” I replied, “but just as I was coming away I found that one of the dogs did not bark properly, so we shall be obliged to get a case of pistols from Devisme.”
Louis looked at me, smiled, and held out his hand. He knew quite well that I did not wish to see him killed with my pistols.
“Have you a carriage?” he asked; “if not I will send Joseph for one.”
“My coupé is here,” said the Baron, “and can carry three at a pinch; besides, my horses will take us more quickly than afiacre.”
“Let us go,” said Louis.
We went downstairs. Joseph was waiting at the door.
“Shall I accompany you, sir?” he said.
“No, Joseph,” replied his master, “I shall not require your services to-day.”
Then, stepping back a pace and pressing a roll of gold into the man’s hand, he said, “Take this, and if at any time I have appeared brusque to you, pardon my ill-humour.”
“Oh, monsieur!” said Joseph, with tears in his eyes, “what is the meaning of this?”
“Chut!” said Louis, and he sprang into the carriage.
“He is a good servant,” he murmured, “and if either of you can ever be of use to him I shall be obliged.”
“Is he about to leave you?” said the Baron.
“No,” said Louis, smiling; “I am leaving him, that is all!”
We stopped at Devismes just long enough to secure a case of pistols, powder and bullets, and then resumed our way at a brisk trot.
WEreached Vincennes at five minutes to nine.
Another carriage, that of Chateau Renaud, arrived at the same time.
We proceeded into the wood by different paths. Our carriages were to await us in the broad avenue. A few minutes later we met at the rendezvous.
“Gentlemen,” said Louis, “recollect that no arrangement is possible now.”
“Nevertheless——,” I said
“Oh, my dear sir,” he replied, “after what I have told you, you should be the last person to think that any reconciliation is possible.”
I bowed before this absolute will, which for me was supreme.
We left Louis near the carriages, and advanced towards M. de Boissy and M. de Chateaugrand.
The Baron de Giordano carried the case of pistols.
The seconds exchanged salutes.
“Gentlemen,” said the Baron, “under these circumstances the shortest compliments are the best, for we may be interrupted any moment. We were requested to provide weapons—here they are. Examine them if you please. We have just procured them from the gunsmith, and we give you our word of honour that M. Louis de Franchi has not even seen them.”
“Such an assurance is unnecessary, gentlemen,” replied Chateaugrand, “we know with whom we have todeal,” and taking one pistol, while M. de Boissy took the other, the seconds examined the bore.
“These are ordinary pistols, and have never been used,” said the Baron; “now the question is, how shall the principals fire.”
“My advice,” said M. de Boissy, “is that they should fire just as they are accustomed to do, together.”
“Very well,” said the Baron Giordano, “then all chances are equalized.”
“Will you advise M. de Franchi, then, and we will tell M. de Chateau Renaud, monsieur.”
“Now that is settled, will you have the goodness to load the pistols?”
Each one took a pistol, measured carefully the charges of powder, took two bullets at hazard, and rammed them home.
While the weapons were being loaded, I approached Louis, who received me with a smile.
“You won’t forget what I asked you?” he said, “and you will obtain from Giordano a promise that he will say nothing to my mother, or even to my brother. Will you take care, also, that this affair does not get into the papers, or, if it does, that no names are mentioned.”
“You are still of opinion, then, this duel will prove fatal to you?” I said.
“I am more than ever convinced of it,” he replied, “but you will do me this justice at least, that I met death like a true Corsican.”
“My dear de Franchi, your calmness is so astounding that it gives me hopes that you yourself are not convinced on this point.”
Louis took out his watch.
“I have but seven minutes to live,” he said; “here is my watch, keep it, I beg of you, in remembrance of me.” I took the watch, and shook my friend’s hand.
“In eight minutes I hope to restore it to you,” I said.
“Don’t speak of that,” he replied. “See, here are the others.”
“Gentlemen,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand, “a little distance from here, on the right, is an open space where I had a little practice of my own last year; shall we proceed thither—we shall be less liable to interruption.”
“If you will lead the way,” said the Baron Giordano, “we will follow.”
The Viscount preceded us to the spot indicated. It was about thirty paces distant, at the bottom of a gentle slope surrounded on all sides by a screen of brushwood, and seemed fitted by nature as the theatre of such an event as was about to take place.
“M. Martelli,” said the Viscount, “will you measure the distance by me?” The Baron assented, and thus side by side he and M. de Chateaugrand measured twenty ordinary paces.
I was then left for a few seconds alone with M. de Franchi.
“Apropos,” he said, “you will find my will on the table where I was writing when you came in this morning.”
“Good,” I replied, “you may rest quite easy on that score.”
“When you are ready, gentlemen,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand.
“I am here,” replied Louis. “Adieu, dear friend! thank you for all the trouble you have taken for me,without counting all you will have to do for me later on.” I pressed his hand. It was cold, but perfectly steady.
“Now,” I said, “forget the apparition of last night, and aim your best.”
“You remember de Freyschutz?”
“Yes.”
“Well, you know, then, that every bullet has its billet. Adieu!”
He met the Baron Giordano, who handed him the pistol; he took it, and, without looking at it, went and placed himself at the spot marked by the handkerchief.
M. de Chateau Renaud had already taken up his position.
There was a moment of mournful silence, during which the young men saluted their seconds, then their adversary’s seconds, and finally each other.
M. de Chateau Renaud appeared perfectly accustomed to these affairs, and was smiling like a man sure of success; perhaps, also, he was aware that Louis de Franchi never had fired a pistol in his life.
Louis was calm and collected, his fine head looked almost like a marble bust.
“Well, gentlemen,” said Chateau Renaud, “you see we are waiting.”
Louis gave me one last glance, and smiling, raised his eyes to heaven.
“Now, gentlemen, make ready,” said Chateaugrand. Then, striking his hands one against the other, he cried—
“One! Two! Three!”
The two shots made but one detonation.
An instant afterwards I saw Louis de Franchi turn round twice and then fall upon one knee.
M. de Chateau Renaud remained upright. The lappel of his coat had been shot through.
I rushed towards Louis de Franchi.
“You are wounded?” I said.
He attempted to reply, but in vain. A red froth appeared upon his lips.
At the same moment he let fall his pistol, and pressed his hand against his right side.
On looking closely, we perceived a tiny hole not large enough for the point of a little finger.
I begged the Baron to hasten to the barracks, and bring the surgeon of the regiment.
But de Franchi collected all his strength, and stopping Giordano, signed that all assistance would be useless. This exertion caused him to fall on both knees.
M. de Chateau Renaud kept at a distance, but his seconds now approached the wounded man.
Meanwhile, we had opened his coat and torn away his waistcoat and shirt.
The ball had entered the right side, below the sixth rib, and had come out a little above the left hip.
At each breath the wounded man drew, the blood welled out. It was evident he was mortally hurt.
“M. de Franchi,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand, “we regret extremely the issue of this sad affair. We trust you bear no malice against M. de Chateau Renaud.”
“Yes, yes,” murmured the wounded man, “I forgive him.”
Then turning towards me with an effort he said,
“Remember your promise!”
“I swear to you I will do all you wish.”
“And now,” he said, smiling, “look at the watch!”
He breathed a long sigh, and fell back. That sigh was his last.
I looked at the watch, it was exactly ten minutes past nine.
I turned to Louis de Franchi—he was dead.
We took back the body to the Rue de Helder, and while the Baron went to make the usual declaration to the Commissary of Police, I went upstairs with Joseph.
The poor lad was weeping bitterly.
As I entered, my eyes unconsciously turned towards the timepiece; it marked ten minutes past nine.
No doubt he had forgotten to wind it, and it had stopped at that hour.
The Baron Giordano returned almost immediately with the officers, who put the seals on the property.
The Baron wished to advise the relatives and friends of the affair, but I begged him, before he did so, to read the letter that Louis had handed to him before we set out that morning.
The letter contained his request that the cause of his death should be concealed from his brother, and that his funeral should be as quiet as possible.
The Baron Giordano charged himself with these details, and I sought MM. de Boissy and de Chateaugrand, to request their silence respecting the unhappy affair, and to induce Chateau Renaud to leave Paris for a time, without mentioning my reason for this last suggestion.
They promised me to do all they could to meet my views, and as I walked to Chateau Renaud’s house I posted the letter to Madame de Franchi, informing her that her son had died of brain fever.
CONTRARYto custom, the duel was very little talked about; even the papers were silent on the subject.
A few intimate friends followed the body to Père la Chaise. Chateau Renaud refused to quit Paris, although pressed to do so.
At one time I thought of following Louis’ letter to Corsica with one from myself, but although my intentions were good, the misleading statements I should have to make were so repugnant to me that I did not do so. Besides, I was quite convinced that Louis himself had fully weighed before he had decided upon his course of action.
So at the risk of being thought indifferent, or even ungrateful, I kept silence, and I was sure that the Baron Giordano had done as much.
Five days after the duel, at about eleven o’clock in the evening, I was seated by my table in a rather melancholy frame of mind, when my servant entered and shutting the door quickly behind him said, in an agitated whisper, that M. de Franchi desired to speak with me.
I looked at him steadily; he was quite pale.
“Whom did you say, Victor?” I asked.
“Oh, monsieur, in truth I hardly know myself.”
“What M. de Franchi wishes to speak to me?”
“Monsieur’s friend. The gentleman who was here two or three times.”
“You are mad, my good man. Do you not know that I had the misfortune to lose my friend five days ago?”
“Yes, sir; and that is the reason I am so upset. He rang, I was in the ante-chamber, and opened thedoor, but recoiled at his appearance. However, he entered, and asked if you were at home. I replied that you were, and then he said, ‘Go and announce M. de Franchi, who wishes to speak with your master,’ and so I came.”
“You are stupid, Victor, the ante-chamber is not properly lighted. You were asleep, no doubt, and did not hear correctly. Go, and ask the gentleman his name.”
“It would be useless, sir. I swear to you I am not deceived. I heard him, and saw him, distinctly.”
“Then go and show him in.”
Victor turned tremblingly to the door, opened it, and then standing still in the room, said—
“Will monsieur be kind enough to come in?”
I immediately heard the footsteps of my visitor crossing the ante-chamber, and sure enough, at the door there appeared M. de Franchi.
I confess that I was terrified, and took a step backwards as he approached.
“I trust you will excuse my appearance so late,” said my visitor; “I only arrived ten minutes ago, and you will understand that I could not wait till tomorrow without seeing you.”
“Oh, my dear Lucien,” I exclaimed, advancing quickly, and embracing him. “Then it is really you.” And, in spite of myself, tears really came into my eyes.
“Yes,” he said, “it is I.”
I made a calculation of the time that had elapsed, and could scarcely imagine that he had received the letter—it could hardly have reached Ajaccio yet.
“Good Heavens! then you do not know what has happened?” I exclaimed.
“I know all,” was his reply.
“Victor,” I said, turning towards my servant, who was still rather embarrassed, “leave us, and return in a quarter of an hour with some supper. You will have something to eat, and will sleep here of course.”
“With great pleasure,” he replied. “I have eaten nothing since we left Auxerre. Then, as to lodgings, as nobody knew me in the Rue de Helder, or rather,” he added, with a sad smile, “as everybody recognized me there, they declined to let me in, so I left the whole house in a state of alarm.”
“In fact, my dear Lucien, your resemblance to Louis is so very striking that even I myself was just now taken aback.”
“How,” exclaimed Victor, who had not yet ventured to leave us. “Is monsieur the brother——”
“Yes,” I replied, “go and get supper.”
Victor went out, and we found ourselves alone.
I took Lucien by the hand, and leading him to an easy chair seated myself near him.
“I suppose (I began) you were on your way to Paris when the fatal news met you?”
“No, I was at Sullacaro!”
“Impossible! Why your brother’s letter could not have reached you.”
“You forget the ballad ofBurger,my dear Alexander—the dead travel fast!”
I shuddered! “I do not understand,” I said.
“Have you forgotten what I told you about the apparitions familiar to our family?”
“Do you mean to say that you haveseenyour dead brother?”—“Yes.”—“When?”
“On the night of the 16th inst.”
“And he told you everything?”—“All!”
“That he was dead?”
“He told me that he had been killed. The dead never lie!”
“And he said in what way?”
“In a duel.”
“By whom?”
“By M. de Chateau Renaud.”
“Oh no, Lucien, that cannot be,” I exclaimed, “you have obtained your information in some other way.”
“Do you think I am likely to joke at such a time?”
“I beg your pardon. But truly what you tell me is so strange, and everything that relates to you and your brother so out of ordinary nature, that——”
“That you hesitate to believe it. Well, I can understand the feeling. But wait. My brother was hit here,” he continued, as he opened his shirt and showed me the blue mark of the bullet on his flesh, “he was wounded above the sixth rib on the right side—do you believe that?”
“As a matter of fact,” I replied, “that is the very spot where he was hit.”
“And the bullet went out here,” continued Lucien, putting his finger just above his left hip.
“It is miraculous,” I exclaimed.
“And now,” he went on, “do you wish me to tell you the time he died?”
“Tell me!”
“At ten minutes past nine.”
“That will do, Lucien;” I said, “but I lose myself in questions. Give me a connected narrative of the events. I should prefer it.”