The Confessions of Harry Lorrequer — Volume 5

A look from Trevanion decided my acceptance of the proferred civility, and I seated myself in the chair beside the baron. Trevanion meanwhile had engaged my adversary in conversation along with the stranger, who had been our guide, leaving O'Leary alone unoccupied, which, however, he did not long remain; for, although uninvited by the others, he seized a knife and fork, and commenced a vigorous attack upon a partridge pie near him; and, with equal absence of ceremony, uncorked the champaign and filled out a foaming goblet, nearly one-third of the whole bottle, adding —

"I think, Mr. Lorrequer, there's nothing like showing them that we are just as cool and unconcerned as themselves."

If I might judge from the looks of the party, a happier mode of convincing them of our "free-and-easy" feelings could not possibly have been discovered. From any mortification this proceeding might have caused me, I was speedily relieved by Trevanion calling O'Leary to one side, while he explained to him that he must nominally act as second on the ground, as Trevanion, being a resident in Paris, might become liable to a prosecution, should any thing serious arise, while O'Leary, as a mere passer through, could cross the frontier into Germany, and avoid all trouble.

O'Leary at once acceded — perhaps the more readily because he expected to be allowed to return to his breakfast — but in this he soon found himself mistaken, for the whole party now rose, and preceded by the baron, followed the course of the little stream.

After about five minutes' walking, we found ourselves at the outlet of the glen, which was formed by a large stone quarry, making a species of amphitheatre, with lofty walls of rugged granite, rising thirty or forty feet on either side of us. The ground was smooth and level as a boarded floor, and certainly to amateurs in these sort of matters, presented a most perfect spot for a "meeting."

The stranger who had just joined us, could not help remarking our looks of satisfaction at the choice of ground, and observed to me —

"This is not the first affair that this little spot has witnessed; and the moulinet of St. Cloud is, I think, the very best 'meet' about Paris."

Trevanion who, during these few minutes, had been engaged with Derigny, now drew me aside.

"Well, Lorrequer, have you any recollection now of having seen your opponent before? or can you make a guess at the source of all this?"

"Never till this instant," said I, "have I beheld him," as I looked towards the tall, stoutly-built figure of my adversary, who was very leisurely detaching a cordon from his tightly fitting frock, doubtless to prevent its attracting my aim.

"Well, never mind, I shall manage every thing properly. What can you do with the small sword, for they have rapiers at the mill?"

"Nothing whatever; I have not fenced since I was a boy."

"N'importe — then we'll fight at a barriere. I know they're not prepared for that from Englishmen; so just step on one side now, and leave me to talk it over."

As the limited nature of the ground did not permit me to retire to a distance, I became involuntarily aware of a dialogue, which even the seriousness of the moment could scarcely keep me from laughing at outright.

It was necessary, for the sake of avoiding any possible legal difficulty in the result, that O'Leary should give his assent to every step of the arrangement; and being totally ignorant of French, Trevanion had not only to translate for him, but also to render in reply O'Leary's own comments or objections to the propositions of the others.

"Then it is agreed — we fight at a barriere," said the Captain Derigny.

"What's that, Trevanion?"

"We have agreed to place them at a barriere," replied Trevanion.

"That's strange," muttered O'Leary to himself, who, knowing that the word meant a "turnpike," never supposed it had any other signification.

"Vingt quatre pas, n'est pas," said Derigny.

"Too far," interposed Trevanion.

"What does he say now?" asked O'Leary.

"Twenty-four paces for the distance."

"Twenty-four of my teeth he means," said O'Leary, snapping his fingers. "What does he think of the length of Sackville-street? Ask him that, will ye?"

"What says Monsieur?" said the Frenchman.

"He thinks the distance much too great."

"He may be mistaken," said the Captain, half sneeringly. "My friend is 'de la premiere force.'"

"That must be something impudent, from your looks, Mr. Trevanion. Isn't it a thousand pities I can't speak French?"

"What say you, then, to twelve paces? Fire together, and two shots each, if the first fire be inconclusive," said Trevanion.

"And if necessary," added the Frenchman, carelessly, "conclude with these" — touching the swords with his foot as he spoke.

"The choice of the weapon lies with us, I opine," replied Trevanion. "We have already named pistols, and by them we shall decide this matter."

It was at length, after innumerable objections, agreed upon that we should be placed back to back, and at a word given each walk forward to a certain distance marked out by a stone, where we were to halt, and at the signal, "une," "deux," turn round and fire.

This, which is essentially a French invention in duelling, was perfectly new to me, but by no means to Trevanion, who was fully aware of the immense consequence of not giving even a momentary opportunity for aim to my antagonist; and in this mode of firing the most practised and deadly shot is liable to err — particularly if the signal be given quickly.

While Trevanion and the Captain were measuring out the ground, a little circumstance which was enacted near me was certainly not over calculated to strengthen my nerve. The stranger who had led us to the ground had begun to examine the pistols, and finding that one of them was loaded, turned towards my adversary, saying, "De Haultpenne, you have forgotten to draw the charge. Come let us see what vein you are in." At the same time, drawing off his large cavalry glove, he handed the pistol to his friend.

"A double Napoleon you don't hit the thumb."

"Done," said the other, adjusting the weapon in his hand.

The action was scarcely performed, when the bettor flung the glove into the air with all his force. My opponent raised his pistol, waited for an instant, till the glove, having attained its greatest height, turned to fall again. Then click went the trigger — the glove turned round and round half-a-dozen times, and fell about twenty yards off, and the thumb was found cut clearly off at the juncture with the hand.

This — which did not occupy half as long as I have spent in recounting it — was certainly a pleasant introduction to standing at fifteen yards from the principal actor; and I should doubtless have felt it in all its force, had not my attention been drawn off by the ludicrous expression of grief in O'Leary's countenance, who evidently regarded me as already defunct.

"Now, Lorrequer, we are ready," said Trevanion, coming forward; and then, lowering his voice, added, "All is in your favour; I have won the 'word,' which I shall give the moment you halt. So turn and fire at once: be sure not to go too far round in the turn — that is the invariable error in this mode of firing; only no hurry — be calm."

"Now, Messieurs," said Derigny, as he approached with his friend leaning upon his arm, and placed him in the spot allotted to him. Trevanion then took my arm, and placed me back to back to my antagonist. As I took up my ground, it so chanced that my adversary's spur slightly grazed me, upon which he immediately turned round, and, with the most engaging smile, begged a "thousand pardons," and hoped I was not hurt.

O'Leary, who saw the incident, and guessed the action aright, called out:

"Oh, the cold-blooded villain; the devil a chance for you, Mr. Lorrequer."

"Messieurs, your pistols," said Le Capitaine la Garde, who, as he handed the weapons, and repeated once more the conditions of the combat, gave the word to march.

I now walked slowly forward to the place marked out by the stone; but it seemed that I must have been in advance of my opponent, for I remember some seconds elapsed before Trevanion coughed slightly, and then with a clear full voice called out "Une," "Deux." I had scarcely turned myself half round, when my right arm was suddenly lifted up, as if by a galvanic shock. My pistol jerked upwards, and exploded the same moment, and then dropped powerlessly from my hand, which I now felt was covered with warm blood from a wound near the elbow. From the acute but momentary pang this gave me, my attention was soon called off; for scarcely had my arm been struck, when a loud clattering noise to my left induced me to turn, and then, to my astonishment, I saw my friend O'Leary about twelve feet from the ground, hanging on by some ash twigs that grew from the clefts of the granite. Fragments of broken rock were falling around him, and his own position momentarily threatened a downfall. He was screaming with all his might; but what he said was entirely lost in the shouts of laughter of Trevanion and the Frenchmen, who could scarcely stand with the immoderate exuberance of their mirth.

I had not time to run to his aid — which, although wounded, I should have done — when the branch he clung to, slowly yielded with his weight, and the round, plump figure of my poor friend rolled over the little cleft of rock, and, after a few faint struggles, came tumbling heavily down, and at last lay peaceably in the deep heather at the bottom — his cries the whole time being loud enough to rise even above the vociferous laughter of the others.

I now ran forward, as did Trevanion, when O'Leary, turning his eyes towards me, said, in the most piteous manner —

"Mr. Lorrequer, I forgive you — here is my hand — bad luck to their French way of fighting, that's all — it's only good for killing one's friend. I thought I was safe up there, come what might."

"My dear O'Leary," said I, in an agony, which prevented my minding the laughing faces around me, "surely you don't mean to say that I have wounded you?"

"No, dear, not wounded, only killed me outright — through the brain it must be, from the torture I'm suffering."

The shout with which this speech was received, sufficiently aroused me; while Trevanion, with a voice nearly choked with laughter, said —