dawn of a gloomy winter morning, the two sleighs
crossed over a mile of ice to the Jersey shore. Large flakes of snow
were falling as Schmidt drove, the little doctor, Chovet, beside him, De
Courval silent on the back seat. Nothing could keep Chovet quiet very
long. "I was in the duel of Laurens, the President of the Congress. Oh,
it was to be on Christmas Day and near to Seven Street. Mr. Penn--oh,
not the fat governor but the senator from Georgia--he slipped in the mud
on the way, and Laurens he help him with a hand, and they make up all at
once and no further go, and I am disappoint." It was an endless chatter.
"And there was the Conway duel, too. Ah, that was good business!"

Schmidt, out of patience, said at last, "If you talk any more, I will
throw you out of the sleigh."

"Oh, _le diable!_ and who then will heal these which go to stick one the
other? Ha! I ask of you that?"

"The danger will be so much the less," said Schmidt. Chovet was
silenced.

On the shore they met De la Foret and Carteaux, and presently found in
the woods an open space with little snow. The two men stripped to the
shirt, and were handed the dueling-swords, Schmidt whispering: "Be cool;
no temper here. Wait to attack."

"And now," said the consul, as the seconds fell back, "on guard,
Messieurs!"

Instantly the two blades rang sharp notes of meeting steel as they
crossed and clashed in the cold morning air. "He is lost!" murmured
Schmidt. The slighter man attacked furiously, shifting his ground, at
first imprudently sure of his foe. A prick in the chest warned him. Then
there was a mad interchange of quick thrusts and more or less competent
defense, when De Courval, staggering, let fall his rapier and dropped,
while Carteaux, panting, stood still.

Schmidt knelt down. It was a deep chest wound and bled but little
outwardly. De Courval, coughing up foamy blood, gasped, "It is over for
a time--over." Chovet saw no more to do than to get his man home, and so
strangely does associative memory play her tricks that Schmidt, as he
rose in dismay, recalled the words of the dying _Mercutio_. Then, with
apparent ease, he lifted Rene, and, carrying him to the sleigh, wrapped
him in furs, and drove swiftly over the ice to the foot of the garden.
"Fasten the horse, Doctor," he said, "and follow me." Rene smiled as the
German carried him. "The second time of home-coming wounded. How
strange! Don't be troubled, sir. I do not mean to die. Tell my mot