ions went with him. As he
turned into the rue Chartres it showed itself thus:

"Right; it is but right;" he shook his head slowly--"it is but right."

In the rue Douane he spoke again:

"Ah! Frowenfeld"--and smiled unpleasantly, with his head down.

And as he made yet another turn, and took his meditative way down the
city's front, along the blacksmith's shops in the street afterward
called Old Levee, he resumed, in English, and with a distinctness that
made a staggering sailor halt and look after him:

"There are but two steps to civilization, the first easy, the second
difficult; to construct--to reconstruct--ah! there it is! the tearing
down! The tear'--"

He was still, but repeated the thought by a gesture of distress turned
into a slow stroke of the forehead.

"Monsieur Honore Grandissime," said a voice just ahead.

"_Eh, bien_?"

At the mouth of an alley, in the dim light of the streep lamp, stood the
dark figure of Honore Grandissime, f.m.c., holding up the loosely
hanging form of a small man, the whole front of whose clothing was
saturated with blood.

"Why, Charlie Keene! Let him down again, quickly--quickly; do not hold
him so!"

"Hands off," came in a ghastly whisper from the shape.

"Oh, Chahlie, my boy--"

"Go and finish your courtship," whispered the doctor.

"Oh Charlie, I have just made it forever impossible!"

"Then help me back to my bed; I don't care to die in the street."

CHAPTER XLV

MORE REPARATION

"That is all," said the fairer Honore, outside Doctor Keene's sick-room
about ten o'clock at night. He was speaking to the black son of
Clemence, who had been serving as errand-boy for some hours. He spoke
in a low tone just without the half-open door, folding again a paper
which the lad had lately borne to the apothecary of the rue Royale, and
had now brought back with Joseph's answer written under
Honore's inquiry.

"That is all," said the other Honore, standing partly behind the first,
as the eyes of his little menial turned upon him that deprecatory glance
of inquiry so common to slave children. The lad went a little way down
the corridor, curled up upon the floor against the wall, and was soon
asleep. The fairer Honore handed the darker the slip of paper; it was
received and returned in silence. The question was:

"_Can you state anything positive concerning the duel_?"

And the reply:

"_Positively there will be none. Sylvestre my sworn friend for