The Companions of Jehu

“What did I tell you?” he asked.

They requested him to name the time and place. He selected seven o’clock in the evening in the Allée de la Muette. At that hour the Bois was almost deserted, but the light was still good enough (it will be remembered that this was in the month of June) for the two adversaries to fight with any weapon.

No one had spoken of the pistols. The young men proposed to get them at an armorer’s.

“No,” said Roland, “Sir John has an excellent pair of duelling pistols which I have already used. If he is not unwilling to fight with those pistols I should prefer them to all others.”

The young man who was now acting as Sir John’s second went to him with the three following questions: Whether the time and place suited him, and whether he would allow his pistols to be used.

Lord Tanlay replied by regulating his watch by that of his second and by handing him the box of pistols.

“Shall I call for you, my lord?” asked the young man.

Sir John smiled sadly.

“Needless,” he replied; “you are M. de Montrevel’s friend, and you will find the drive pleasanter with him than with me. I will go on horseback with my servant. You will find me on the ground.”

The young officer carried this reply to Roland.

“What did I tell you?” observed Roland again.

It was then mid-day, there were still seven hours before them, and Roland dismissed his friends to their various pleasures and occupations. At half-past six precisely they were to be at his door with three horses and two servants. It was necessary, in order to avoid interference, that the trip should appear to be nothing more than an ordinary promenade.

At half-past six precisely the waiter informed Roland that his friends were in the courtyard. Roland greeted them cordially and sprang into his saddle. The party followed the boulevards as far as the Place Louis XV. and then turned up the Champs Elysées. On the way the strange phenomenon that had so much astonished Sir John at the time of Roland’s duel with M. de Barjols recurred. Roland’s gayety might have been thought an affectation had it not been so evidently genuine. The two young men acting as seconds were of undoubted courage, but even they were bewildered by such utter indifference. They might have understood it had this affair been an ordinary duel, for coolness and dexterity insure their possessor a great advantage over his adversary; but in a combat like this to which they were going neither coolness nor dexterity would avail to save the combatants, if not from death at least from some terrible wound.

Furthermore, Roland urged on his horse like a man in haste, so that they reached the end of the Allée de la Muette five minutes before the appointed time.

A man was walking in the allée. Roland recognized Sir John. The seconds watched the young man’s face as he caught sight of his adversary. To their great astonishment it expressed only tender good-will.

A few more steps and the four principal actors in the scene that was about to take place met.

Sir John was perfectly calm, but his face wore a look of profound sadness. It was evident that this meeting grieved him as deeply as it seemed to rejoice Roland.

The party dismounted. One of the seconds took the box of pistols from the servants and ordered them to lead away the horses, and not to return until they heard pistol-shots. The principals then entered the part of the woods that seemed the thickest, and looked about them for a suitable spot. For the rest, as Roland had foreseen, the Bois was deserted; the approach of the dinner hour had called every one home.

They found a small open spot exactly suited to their needs. The seconds looked at Roland and Sir John. They both nodded their heads in approval.

“Is there to be any change?” one of the seconds asked Sir John.

“Ask M. de Montrevel,” replied Lord Tanlay; “I am entirely at his disposal.”

“Nothing,” said Roland.

The seconds took the pistols from the box and loaded them. Sir John stood apart, switching the heads of the tall grasses with his riding-whip.

Roland watched him hesitatingly for a moment, then taking his resolve, he walked resolutely toward him. Sir John raised his head and looked at him with apparent hope.

“My lord,” said Roland, “I may have certain grievances against you, but I know you to be, none the less, a man of your word.”

“You are right,” replied Sir John.

“If you survive me will you keep the promise that you made me at Avignon?”

“There is no possibility that I shall survive you, but so long as I have any breath left in my body, you can count upon me.”

“I refer to the final disposition to be made of my body.”

“The same, I presume, as at Avignon?”

“The same, my lord.”

“Very well, you may set your mind at rest.”

Roland bowed to Sir John and returned to his friends.

“Have you any wishes in case the affair terminates fatally?” asked one of them.

“One only.”

“What is it?”

“That you permit Sir John to take entire charge of the funeral arrangements. For the rest, I have a note in my left hand for him. In case I have not time to speak after the affair is over, you are to open my hand and give him the note.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

“The pistols are loaded, then.”

“Very well, inform Sir John.”

One of the seconds approached Sir John. The other measured off five paces. Roland saw that the distance was greater than he had supposed.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I said three paces.”

“Five,” replied the officer who was measuring the distance.

“Not at all, dear friend, you are wrong.”

He turned to Sir John and to the other second questioningly.

“Three paces will do very well,” replied Sir John, bowing.

There was nothing to be said if the two adversaries were agreed. The five paces were reduced to three. Then two sabres were laid on the ground to mark the limit. Sir John and Roland took their places, standing so that their toes touched the sabres. A pistol was then handed to each of them.

They bowed to say that they were ready. The two seconds stepped aside. They were to give the signal by clapping their hands three times. At the first clap the principals were to cock their pistols; at the second to take aim; at the third to fire.

The three claps were given at regular intervals amid the most profound silence; the wind itself seemed to pause and the rustle of the trees was hushed. The principals were calm, but the seconds were visibly distressed.