hief not being available. But here all resemblance to
Armand Carrel ceased, and the law itself was anxious to mark the
difference. In the one case it had been set at nought by two men of
undoubted courage and undoubted honour, meeting upon equal terms; in the
other, it was proved that, not content with Dujarrier's well-known
inferiority, De Beauvallon's pistols had been tried before the
encounter. The court could take no cognizance of this, but it marked its
disapproval by sentencing Beauvallon to eight years', and one of his
seconds, M. d'Ecquevilley, to ten years' imprisonment for perjury. Both
had declared on oath that the pistols had not been tried. The Dujarrier
duel caused a deep and painful sensation. I have dwelt upon it at
greater length than was absolutely necessary, because it inspired me
with a resolution from which I have never departed since. I was
twenty-seven at the time, and, owing to circumstances which I need not
relate here, foresaw that the greater part of my life would be spent in
France. I am neither more courageous nor more cowardly than most
persons, but I objected to be shot down like a mad dog on the most
futile pretext because some one happened to have a grudge against me. To
have declined "to go out" on the score of my nationality would not have
met the case in the conditions in which I was living, so from that
moment I became an assiduous client at Gosset's shooting-gallery, and
took fencing lessons of Grisier. I do not know that I became very
formidable with either weapon, only sufficiently skilled not to be
altogether defenceless. I took care at the same time to let it go forth
that a duel to me not only meant one or both parties so severely wounded
as not to be able to continue the struggle, but the resumption of the
combat, when he or they had recovered, until one was killed. Of course,
it implied that I would only go out for a sufficiently weighty reason,
but that, if compelled to do so for a trifling one, I would still adhere
to my original resolution. Only once, more than twelve years afterwards,
I had a quarrel fastened upon me, arising out of the excitement
consequent upon the attempt of Orsini. I was the offended party, and, as
such, could dictate the conditions of the meeting. I declined to modify
in the least the rules I had laid down for my own guidance, and stated
as much to those who were to act for me--General Fleury and Alexandre
Dumas. My adversary's friends refused to accep