company; and he had been the innocentvictim of an error or a

fraud, committed by some other person present at the table.
Driven to my last resource, I could now only base my refusal to

receive the challenge on the ground that we were Englishmen, and
that the practice of dueling had been abolished in England. Both

the seconds at once declined to accept this statement in
justification of my conduct.

"You are now in France," said the elder of the two, "where a duel
is the established remedy for an insult, among gentlemen. You are

bound to respect the social laws of the country in which you are
for the time residing. If you refuse to do so, you lay yourselves

open to a public imputation on your courage, of a nature too
degrading to be more particularly alluded to. Let us adjourn this

interview for three hours on the ground of informality. We ought
to confer with _two_ gentlemen, acting on Mr. Romayne's behalf.

Be prepared with another second to meet us, and reconsider your
decision before we call again."

The Frenchmen had barely taken their departure by one door, when
Romayne entered by another.

"I have heard it all," he said, quietly. "Accept the challenge."
I declare solemnly that I left no means untried of opposing my

friend's resolution. No man could have felt more strongly
convinced

than I did, that nothing could justify the course he was taking.
My remonstrances were completely thrown away. He was deaf to

sense and reason, from the moment when he had heard an imputation
on his courage suggested as a possible result of any affair in

which he was concerned.
"With your views," he said, "I won't ask you to accompany me to

the ground. I can easily find French seconds. And mind this, if
you attempt to prevent the meeting, the duel will take place

elsewhere--and our friendship is at an end from that moment."
After this, I suppose it is needless to add that I accompanied

him to the ground the next morning as one of his seconds.
V.

WE were punctual to the appointed hour--eight o'clock.
The second who acted with me was a French gentleman, a relative

of one of the officers who had brought the challenge. At his
suggestion, we had chosen the pistol as our weapon. Romayne, like

most Englishmen at the present time, knew nothing of the use of
the sword. He was almost equallyinexperienced with the pistol.

Our opponents were late. They kept us waiting for more than ten
minutes. It was not pleasant weather to wait in. The day had

dawned damp and drizzling. A thick white fog was slowly rolling
in on us from the sea.

When they did appear, the General was not among them. A tall,
well-dressed young man saluted Romayne with stern courtesy, and

said to a stranger who accompanied him: "Explain the
circumstances."

The stranger proved to be a surgeon. He entered at once on the
necessary explanation. The General was too ill to appear. He had

been attacked that morning by a fit--the consequence of the blow
that he had received. Under these circumstances, his eldest son

(Maurice) was now on the ground to fight the duel on his father's
behalf; attended by the General's seconds, and with the General's

full approval.
We instantly refused to allow the duel to take place, Romayne

loudly declaring that he had no quarrel with the General's son.
Upon this, Maurice broke away from his seconds; drew off one of

his gloves; and stepping close up to Romayne, struck him on the
face with the glove. "Have you no quarrel with me now?" the young

Frenchman asked. "Must I spit on you, as my father did?" His
seconds dragged him away, and apologized to us for the outbreak.

But the mischief was done. Romayne's fiery temper flashed in his
eyes. "Load the pistols," he said. After the insultpublicly

offered to him, and the outragepublicly threatened, there was no
other course to take.

It had been left to us to produce the pistols. We therefore
requested the seconds of our opponent to examine and to load

them. While this was being done, the advancing sea-fog so
completely enveloped us that the duelists were unable to see each

other. We were obliged to wait for the chance of a partial
clearing in the atmosphere. Romayne's temper had become calm

again. The generosity of his nature spoke in the words which he
now addressed to his seconds. "After all," he said, "the young

man is a good son--he is bent on redressing what he believes to
be his father's wrong. Does his flipping his glove in my face

matter to me? I think I shall fire in the air."
"I shall refuse to act as your second if you do," answered the

French gentleman who was assisting us. "The General's son is
famous for his skill with the pistol. If you didn't see it in his

face just now, I did--he means to kill you. Defend your life,
sir!" I spoke quite as strongly, to the same purpose, when my

turn came. Romayne yielded--he placed himself unreservedly in our
hands.

In a quarter of an hour the fog lifted a little. We measured the
distance, having previously arranged (at my suggestion) that the

two men should both fire at the same moment, at a given signal.
Romayne's composure, as they faced each other, was, in a man of

his irritablenervoustemperament, really wonderful. I placed him
sidewise, in a position which in some degree lessened his danger,

by lessening the surface exposed to the bullet. My French
colleague put the pistol into his hand, and gave him the last

word of advice. "Let your arm hang loosely down, with the barrel
of the pistol pointing straight to the ground. When you hear the

signal, only lift your arm as far as the elbow; keep the elbow
pressed against your side--and fire." We could do no more for

him. As we drew aside--I own it--my tongue was like a cinder in
my mouth, and a horrid inner cold crept through me to the marrow

of my bones.
The signal was given, and the two shots were fired at the same

time.
My first look was at Romayne. He took off his hat, and handed it

to me with a smile. His adversary's bullet had cut a piece out of
the brim of his hat, on the right side. He had literally escaped

by a hair-breadth.
While I was congratulating him, the fog gathered again more

thickly than ever. Looking anxiously toward the ground occupied
by our adversaries, we could only see vague, shadowy forms

hurriedly crossing and recrossing each other in the mist.
Something had happened! My French colleague took my arm and

pressed it significantly. "Leave _me_ to inquire," he said.
Romayne tried to follow; I held him back--we neither of us

exchanged a word.
The fog thickened and thickened, until nothing was to be seen.

Once we heard the surgeon's voice, callingimpatiently for a
light to help him. No light appeared that _we_ could see. Dreary

as the fog itself, the silence gathered round us again. On a
sudden it was broken, horribly broken, by another voice, strange

to both of us, shrieking hysterically through the impenetrable
mist. "Where is he?" the voice cried, in the French language.

"Assassin! Assassin! where are you?" Was it a woman? or was it a
boy? We heard nothing more. The effect upon Romayne was terrible

to see. He who had calmly confronted the weapon lifted to kill
him, shuddered dumbly like a terror-stricken animal. I put my arm

round him, and hurried him away from the place.
We waited at the hotel until our French friend joined us. After a

brief interval he appeared, announcing that the surgeon would
follow him.

The duel had ended fatally. The chance course of the bullet,
urged by Romayne's unpracticed hand, had struck the General's son

just above the right nostril--had penetrated to the back of his