s....
Whom have they taken?.... Those two huntsmen!.... Ali, my God! My
God!".... He could say no more. The doctor had hastened to the window to
see what was passing, regardless of the fact that Florent dragged himself
thither as well. Did they remain there a few seconds, fifteen minutes or
longer? They could never tell, so greatly were they terrified.

As Montfanon had anticipated, the conditions of the duel were terrible.
For Pietrapertosa, who seemed to direct the combat, after having measured
a space sufficiently long, of about fifty feet, was in the act of tracing
in the centre two lines scarcely ten or twelve metres apart.

"They have chosen the duel a 'marche interrompue'," groaned the veteran
duellist, whose knowledge of the ground did not deceive him. Dorsenne and
Gorka, once placed, face to face, commenced indeed to advance, now
raising, now lowering their weapons with the terrible slowness of two
adversaries resolved not to miss their mark.

A shot was fired. It was by Boleslas. Dorsenne was unharmed. Several
steps had still to be taken in order to reach the limit. He took them,
and he paused to aim at his opponent with so evident an intention of
killing him that they could distinctly hear Cibo cry:

"Fire! For God's sake, fire!"

Julien pressed the trigger, as if in obedience to that order, incorrect,
but too natural to be even noticed. The weapon was discharged, and the
three spectators at the window of the bedroom uttered three simultaneous
exclamations on seeing Gorka's arm fall and his hand drop the pistol.

"It is nothing," cried the doctor, "but a broken arm."

"The good Lord has been better to us than we deserve," said the Marquis.

"Now, at least, the madman will be quieted.... Brave Dorsenne!" cried
Florent, who thought of his brother-in-law and who added gayly, leaning
on Montfanon and the doctor in order to reach the couch: "Finish quickly,
doctor, they will need you below immediately."

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

One of those trustful men who did not judge when they loved
That suffering which curses but does not pardon

COSMOPOLIS

By PAUL BOURGET

BOOK 4.

CHAPTER IX

LUCID ALBA

The doctor had diagnosed the case correctly. Dorsenne's ball had struck
Gorka below the wrist. Two centimetres more to the right or to the left,
and undoubtedly Boleslas would have been killed. He escaped with a
fracture of the forearm, which would confine him for a f