ed
Ninny Moulin. "Let us first see if the bottles are of the same
size--equality of weapons being the foremost condition."

During these preparations, profound silence reigned in the room. The
courage of the majority of those present, animated for a moment by the
arrival of the punch, was soon again depressed by gloomy thoughts,
as they vaguely foresaw the danger of the contest between Morok and
Jacques. This impression joined to the sad thoughts occasioned by the
incident of the coffin, darkened by degrees many a countenance. Some
of the guests, indeed, continued to make a show of rejoicing, but their
gayety appeared forced. Under certain circumstances, the smallest things
will have the most powerful effect. We have said that, after sunset,
a portion of this large room was plunged in obscurity; therefore, the
guests who sat in the remote corners of the apartment, had no other
light than the reflection of the flaming punch. Now it is well known,
that the flame of burning spirit throws a livid, bluish tint over the
countenance; it was therefore a strange, almost frightful spectacle, to
see a number of the guests, who happened to be at a distance from the
windows, in this ghastly and fantastic light.

The painter, more struck than all the rest by this effect of color,
exclaimed: "Look! at this end of the table, we might fancy ourselves
feasting with cholera-patients, we are such fine blues and greens."

This jest was not much relished. Fortunately, the loud voice of Ninny
Moulin demanded attention, and for a moment turned the thoughts of the
company.

"The lists are open," cried the religious writer, really more frightened
than he chose to appear. "Are you ready, brave champions?" he added.

"We are ready," said Morok and Jacques.

"Present! fire!" cried Ninny Moulin, clapping his hands. And the two
drinkers each emptied a tumbler full of brandy at a draught.

Morok did not even knit his brow; his marble face remained impassible;
with a steady hand he replaced his glass upon the table. But Jacques, as
he put down his glass, could not conceal a slight convulsive trembling,
caused by internal suffering.

"Bravely done!" cried Ninny Moulin. "The quarter of a bottle of brandy
at a draught--it is glorious! No one else here would be capable of such
prowess. And now, worthy champions, if you believe me, you will stop
where you are."

"Give the word!" answered Jacques, intrepidly. And, with feverish and
shaking hand, h