pleasant an acquaintance, so languid a friend, and--so
remorseless an--enemy. In short, Louis Grayle claimed the right to be
courted,--he was shunned; to be admired,--he was loathed. Even his old
college acquaintances were shamed out of knowing him. Perhaps he
could have lived through all this had he sought to glide quietly into
position; but he wanted the tact of the well-bred, and strove to storm
his way, not to steal it. Reduced for companions to needy parasites,
he braved and he shocked all decorous opinion by that ostentation of
excess, which made Richelieus and Lauzuns the rage. But then Richelieus
and Lauzuns were dukes! He now very naturally took the Polite World into
hate,--gave it scorn for scorn. He would ally himself with Democracy;
his wealth could not get him into a club, but it would buy him into
parliament; he could not be a Lauzun, nor, perhaps, a Mirabeau, but he
might be a Danton. He had plenty of knowledge and audacity, and with
knowledge and audacity a good hater is sure to be eloquent. Possibly,
then, this poor Louis Grayle might have made a great figure, left his
mark on his age and his name in history; but in contesting the borough,
which he was sure to carry, he had to face an opponent in a real fine
gentleman whom his father had ruined, cool and highbred, with a tongue
like a rapier, a sneer like an adder. A quarrel of course; Louis Grayle
sent a challenge. The fine gentleman, known to be no coward (fine
gentlemen never are), was at first disposed to refuse with contempt. But
Grayle had made himself the idol of the mob; and at a word from Grayle,
the fine gentleman might have been ducked at a pump, or tossed in
a blanket,--that would have made him ridiculous; to be shot at is a
trifle, to be laughed at is serious. He therefore condescended to accept
the challenge, and my father was his second.

"It was settled, of course, according to English custom, that both
combatants should fire at the same time, and by signal. The antagonist
fired at the right moment; his ball grazed Louis Grayle's temple. Louis
Grayle had not fired. He now seemed to the seconds to take slow and
deliberate aim. They called out to him not to fire; they were rushing to
prevent him, when the trigger was pulled, and his opponent fell dead on
the field. The fight was, therefore, considered unfair; Louis Grayle was
tried for his life: he did not stand the trial in person.(1) He escaped
to the Continent; hurried on to some distan