the turn of a path, a woman in a Madras neckerchief
was chatting with a man in a blouse; and in the large avenue under the
chestnut-trees some grooms in vests of linen-cloth were walking horses
up and down.

Cisy recalled the happy days when, mounted on his own chestnut horse,
and with his glass stuck in his eye, he rode up to carriage-doors. These
recollections intensified his wretchedness. An intolerable thirst
parched his throat. The buzzing of flies mingled with the throbbing of
his arteries. His feet sank into the sand. It seemed to him as if he had
been walking during a period which had neither beginning nor end.

The seconds, without stopping, examined with keen glances each side of
the path they were traversing. They hesitated as to whether they would
go to the Catelan Cross or under the walls of the Bagatelle. At last
they took a turn to the right; and they drew up in a kind of quincunx in
the midst of the pine-trees.

The spot was chosen in such a way that the level ground was cut equally
into two divisions. The two places at which the principals in the duel
were to take their stand were marked out. Then Regimbart opened his
case. It was lined with red sheep's-leather, and contained four charming
swords hollowed in the centre, with handles which were adorned with
filigree. A ray of light, passing through the leaves, fell on them, and
they appeared to Cisy to glitter like silver vipers on a sea of blood.

The Citizen showed that they were of equal length. He took one himself,
in order to separate the combatants in case of necessity. M. de Comaing
held a walking-stick. There was an interval of silence. They looked at
each other. All the faces had in them something fierce or cruel.

Frederick had taken off his coat and his waistcoat. Joseph aided Cisy to
do the same. When his cravat was removed a blessed medal could be seen
on his neck. This made Regimbart smile contemptuously.

Then M. de Comaing (in order to allow Frederick another moment for
reflection) tried to raise some quibbles. He demanded the right to put
on a glove, and to catch hold of his adversary's sword with the left
hand. Regimbart, who was in a hurry, made no objection to this. At last
the Baron, addressing Frederick:

"Everything depends on you, Monsieur! There is never any dishonour in
acknowledging one's faults."

Dussardier made a gesture of approval. The Citizen gave vent to his
indignation:

"Do you think we came here as a mere sh