cket he felt the other pistol, and
said,--

"You are going to fight a duel; I should like to see it. I won't
interfere with the affair, but neither will I leave you."

I tried to put on a smile, and assured him that he was mistaken, and that
I was only going for a walk to pass the time.

"Very good," said Edgar, "then I hope my society is as pleasant to you as
yours is to me; I won't leave you. After we have taken a walk we will go
and dine at the 'Canon.' I will get two girls to come and join us, and we
shall have a gay little party of four."

"My dear friend, you must excuse me; I am in a melancholy mood, and I
want to be alone to get over it."

"You can be alone to-morrow, if you like, but I am sure you will be all
right in the next three hours, and if not, why I will share your madness.
Where did you think of dining?"

"Nowhere; I have no appetite. I have been fasting for the last three
days, and I can only drink."

"Ah! I begin to see daylight. Something has crossed you, and you are
going to let it kill you as it killed one of my brothers. I must see what
can be done."

Edgar argued, insisted, and joked till at last I said to myself, "A day
longer will not matter, I can do the deed when he leaves me, and I shall
only have to bear with life a few hours longer."

When Edgar heard that I had no particular object in crossing the bridge
he said that we had better turn back, and I let myself be persuaded; but
in half an hour I begged him to take me somewhere where I could wait for
him, as I could not bear the weight of the lead any longer. I gave him my
word of honour that I would meet him at the "Canon."

As soon as I was alone I emptied my pockets, and put the leaden balls
into a cupboard. Then I lay down and began to consider whether the
good-natured young man would prevent me committing suicide, as he had
already made me postpone it.

I reasoned, not as one that hopes, but rather as one that foresaw that
Edgar would hinder me from shortening my days. Thus I waited in the
tavern for the young Englishman, doubtful whether he was doing me a
service or an injury.

He came back before long, and was pleased to find me.

"I reckoned on your keeping your word," said he.

"You did not think that I would break my word of honour."

"That's all right; I see you are on the way to recovery."

The sensible and cheerful talk of the young man did me good, and I began
to feel better, when the two young wantons, one