ning had the honor of
losing the sum of twelve thousand francs to you; will you do me the
favor to count this money?"

M. de Caylus bowed, emptied his glass, and languidly touching each
little column with one dainty finger, told over his winnings as though
they were scarcely worth even that amount of trouble.

"Six rouleaux of four hundred each," said he, "making two thousand four
hundred--six notes of five hundred each, making three thousand--and an
order upon Rothschild for six thousand six hundred; in all, twelve
thousand. Thanks, Monsieur ... Monsieur ... forgive me for not
remembering your name."

Dalrymple looked up with a dangerous light in his eyes, and took no
notice of the apology.

"It appears to me, Monsieur le Vicomte Caylus," said he, giving the
other his full title and speaking with singular distinctness, "that you
hold the king very often at _ecarte_."

De Caylus looked up with every vein on his forehead suddenly swollen and
throbbing.

"Monsieur!" he exclaimed, hoarsely.

"Especially when you deal," added Dalrymple, smoothing his moustache
with utter _sang-froid_, and keeping his eyes still riveted upon his
adversary.

With an inarticulate cry like the cry of a wild beast, De Caylus sprung
at him, foaming with rage, and was instantly flung back against the
wall, dragging with him not only the table-cloth, but all the wine,
money, and cards upon it.

"I will have blood for this!" he shrieked, struggling with those who
rushed in between. "I will have blood! Blood! Blood!"

Stained and streaming with red wine, he looked, in his ghastly rage, as
if he was already bathed in the blood he thirsted for.

Dalrymple drew himself to his full height, and stood looking on with
folded arms and a cold smile.

"I am quite ready," he said, "to give Monsieur le Vicomte full
satisfaction."

The room was by this time crowded to suffocation. I forced my way
through, and laid my hand on Dalrymple's arm.

"You have provoked this quarrel," I said, reproachfully.

"That, my dear fellow, is precisely what I came here to do," he replied.
"You will have to be my second in this affair."

Here De Simoncourt came up, and hearing the last words, drew me aside.

"I act for De Caylus," he whispered. "Pistols, of course?"

I nodded, still all bewilderment at my novel position.

"Your man received the first blow, so is entitled to the first shot."

I nodded again.

"I don't know a better place," he went on, "th