lock I found him ready
and drinking tea with rum in it--singular man! he made me have some too,
brrr! He was shaved, and dressed in that old frock-coat. His great dog
jumped into the carriage, but he bade her get out, took her paws on his
shoulders, and whispered in her ear some Italian words; a charm, hein!
and back she went, the tail between the legs. We drove slowly, so as not
to shake his arm. He was more gay than I. All the way he talked to me of
you: how kind you were! how good you had been to him! 'You do not speak
of yourself!' I said. 'Have you no friends, nothing to say? Sometimes an
accident will happen!' 'Oh!' he answered, 'there is no danger; but if by
any chance--well, there is a letter in my pocket.' 'And if you should
kill him?' I said. 'But I shall not,' he answered slyly: 'do you think I
am going to fire at him? No, no; he is too young.' 'But,' I said, 'I--'I
am not going to stand that!' 'Yes,' he replied, 'I owe him a shot; but
there is no danger--not the least danger.' We had arrived; already they
were there. Ah bah! You know the preliminaries, the politeness--this
duelling, you know, it is absurd, after all. We placed them at twenty
paces. It is not a bad place. There are pine-trees round, and rocks; at
that hour it was cool and grey as a church. I handed him the pistol.
How can I describe him to you, standing there, smoothing the barrel with
his fingers! 'What a beautiful thing a good pistol!' he said. 'Only a
fool or a madman throws away his life,' I said. 'Certainly,' he replied,
'certainly; but there is no danger,' and he regarded me, raising his
moustachette.

"There they stood then, back to back, with the mouths of their pistols to
the sky. 'Un!' I cried, 'deux! tirez!' They turned, I saw the smoke of
his shot go straight up like a prayer; his pistol dropped. I ran to him.
He looked surprised, put out his hand, and fell into my arms. He was
dead. Those fools came running up. 'What is it?' cried one. I made him
a bow. 'As you see,' I said; 'you have made a pretty shot. My friend
fired in the air. Messieurs, you had better breakfast in Italy.' We
carried him to the carriage, and covered him with a rug; the others drove
for the frontier. I brought him to his room. Here is his letter." Jules
stopped; tears were running down his face. "He is dead; I have closed
his eyes. Look here, you know, we are all of us cads--it is the rule;
but this--this, perhaps, was the ex