o the pitch of his
mother's, while from his cold eye darted a little gleam of wickedness
which made his companions wonder 'what is up,' and suggested to the
doctor the sage reflection, 'All very well to talk about a scratch, and
swords of the Institute, but I should not care to be in the Prince's
skin.'

'Now I'll paint you a pendant to our friend's chromo,' sneered Paul. 'As
a specimen of feminine delicacy and faithfulness, take a little
widow, who even in the burial vault of the departed, and on his very
tombstone----'

'_The Ephesian Matron!_' broke in Vedrine, 'you want to tell us that!'
The discussion grew animated and ran on, still to an accompaniment
of the jolting wheels, upon the never-failing topics of masculine
discussion, woman and love.

'Gentlemen, look,' said the doctor, who from his place on the front seat
saw two carriages coming up the hill at a quick trot. In the first, an
open victoria, were the Prince's seconds. Gomes stood up, and as he sat
down again named them in a low and respectful tone, 'the Marquis d'Urbin
and General de Bonneuil of the Jockey Club--very good form--and my
brother-surgeon, Aubouis.' This Doctor Aubouis was another low-caste
of the same stamp as Gomes; but as he had a ribbon his fee was
five guineas. Behind was a little brougham in which, along with the
inseparable Lavaux, was concealed D'Athis, desperately bored with the
whole business. During five minutes the three vehicles went up the hill
one behind another like a wedding or funeral procession, and nothing
was heard but the sound of the wheels and the panting or snorting of the
horses as they rattled their bits.

'Pass them,' said a haughty nasal voice.

'By all means,' said Paul, 'they are going to see to our quarters.'
The wheels grazed on the narrow road, the seconds bowed, the doctors
exchanged professional smiles. Then the brougham went by, showing behind
the window glass, pulled up in spite of the heat, a morose motionless
profile, as pale as a corpse. 'He won't be paler than that an hour
hence, when they take him home with a hole in his side,' thought Paul,
and he pictured the exact thrust, feint No. 2, followed by a direct
lunge straight in between the third and fourth ribs.

At the top of the hill the air was cooler, and laden with the scent of
lime-flowers, acacias, and roses warm in the sun. Behind the low park
railings sloped great lawns over which moved the mottled shadows of the
trees. Presently was he