CHAPTER XI.
THE BONE OF CONTENTION.
'Poor Marguerite!' ejaculated O'Hara, when he had heard from his visitoran account of the scene in _La Jeune France_. 'So this was her kismet!_Sic transit gloria Aspasi?._ Well, at all events, she may be moreuseful in death than ever she was in life. To think of Margueritebecoming a hand-maid of science! The wilful wench! How she would gloryin the thought of setting two men by the ears, if she could only learnit in the sphere she now adorns! But do you know, O'Hoolohan, onreflection, I can't help thinking you are in the wrong. How does it harmthe woman to have her shin-bone ministering to the needs of literature?Ulric Zuingli bequeathed his skin to be made into a drum-head to rousehis followers; and Byron, if I'm not mistaken, was fond of taking histipple out of a neatly-scooped skull.'
'Will you act for me? Right or wrong now the thing has gone too far forretreating.'
'I fear that is only too true. Of course I'll act for you. Let me see.You're sure he called you Mr. Insolent first.'
'Certain.'
'That's one point in our favour. As we are the offended party, we havethe choice of weapons. Have you any preference?'
'Cavalry pistols. French duellists, as a rule, have a rooted dislike tofacing a bullet. As for small swords, that's only child's play. Ascratch, and honour is satisfied.'
'Cavalry pistols be it. I shall let you know the time and place ofrendezvous, at four this afternoon, at your boarding-house.'
'All right,' said O'Hoolohan; 'meantime I shall go and take a look atthe bears in the Jardin des Plantes.'
'There goes a character!' muttered O'Hara to himself, as his visitordescended the stairs. 'Hang me if I can fathom him!'
The young Irishman dressed himself in his best, and was punctual in hiscall at the rooms of the youth in blue spectacles. The blear-eyedstripling was also present. Business was at once opened in abusiness-like manner. Explanations were tendered on neither side. Themutual insults were too gross and public to be blotted out except byblows. Apology was not asked or offered. The details of the hostilemeeting were gone over with overwhelming affability and owl-likegravity. In negotiations of this kind, to smooth the passage of one ortwo men to a premature eternity, the extremest forms of politeness areinvariably observed. If there was to be a fight, the earlier it came offthe more agreeable it must be to all concerned. Eight o'clock the nextmorning was fixed as the hour of rendezvous, by unanimous consent. AsEug?ne the Gascon, as his friends took care to remark, was a crack shot,they had no prejudice against the cavalry pistols.
The first discussion was on the question of the distance at which theadversaries should be placed from each other. O'Hara, with a charmingreadiness to oblige, suggested that shots should be exchanged across atable-napkin.
The Frenchman demurred.
'That would be slaughter,' said Blue Spectacles.
'Undoubtedly it would be very like it,' agreed O'Hara; 'but my man isused to slaughter on a wholesale scale--an old soldier of Africa, theCrimea, and Italy. Does your principal object to being shot?'
'If he does not, most certainly I do, to being arrested as accessory tomurder,' chimed in Pale Face.
Finally it was decided that the adversaries should be placed twentypaces apart, with privilege to each to advance five paces beforedelivering his fire, if he so elected. There was to be no toss-up as towho was to fire first; they were to consult their own judgment as tothat from the instant the signal for action, the dropping of ahandkerchief, was given. If the first exchange was harmless, the renewalof the combat was to be left to the discretion of the witnesses.
'With your permission, messieurs,' said O'Hara, 'I vote for Clamart asthe place of rendezvous. I know a retired garden there, walled round andperfectly secure from observation. It is a most convenient spot; looksas if it were designed by nature for the purpose. Besides, there is adeep disused draw-well there, so that we can get rid of any dangerousevidence of the morning's work in case of a fatal issue.'
The Frenchmen winced, but as they knew of no better site for theencounter, they agreed--provided there was a good restaurant in thevicinity. It was contrary to all the etiquette of the code of honour inParis to have a duel without a breakfast after. In fact, a duel wouldnot be a duel if it were not followed by a comfortable repast.
O'Hara eased their fears on this score.
'And now, messieurs,' he added in conclusion, 'I have two conditions toimpose, in the interests of our own safety. The first is, that no onewill seek to publish an account of this meeting in the papers; the next,that each of the principals will sign a paper to the effect that he wastired of a hollow and deceitful world, and meant to make away withhimself, so as to exonerate his antagonist from all responsibility inthe future.'
There was a twinkle in O'Hara's eyes as he spoke. He suspected theGascon's witnesses would not relish assisting at the combat unless theywere to borrow some reflected renown from it; and he knew that adocument such as he mentioned would be valueless, seeing that thequarrel had been public, and the probable result was the common gossipof the quarter. But he plausibly wheedled the Frenchmen into assentingto his propositions by putting the terrible perils that would accrue tothem in the event of a death in very strong light.
As he was leaving, Blue Spectacles bethought him that they might havesome trouble in finding cavalry pistols. Eug?ne had none, he thought,and it might lead to unpleasant consequences if they were to purchasethe weapons at a gunsmith's; they would be sure to be identified by theprying _mouchards_.
'I can oblige, messieurs, if you will trust me,' said O'Hara. 'My friendhas a brace in capital order. You can make your choice of them on theground.'
This satisfied all requirements. O'Hara was thanked for his courtesy,and was ushered to the landing with an exquisite urbanity that wastouching in its kindly, well-bred thoughtfulness; it positively recalledthe manner in vogue when the Roi Soleil shed the lustre of hiscountenance on Versailles. As he briskly descended the stairs, thestudents shut the door and looked at each other with faces overshadowedwith anxiety.
'_Pardi!_' said Blue Spectacles, 'this is serious.'
'Serious!--'tis awful!' said Pale Face. 'I feel as if I must have an_absinthe pure_ at the M?re Moreau's. I would not be in Eug?ne's bootsfor a milliard. Come on.'
* * * * *
The morning of the duel broke with all the freshness and warmth andbrilliancy of the genial spring in the latitude of Paris. In thepicturesque Clamart suburb, with its market-gardens and white villas,its plantations, its windmills, and its vine-clad slopes, the aspect wasone of ripe loveliness. It was a rosy, odorous, appetizing morn; a mornfor a pleasant woodland walk under the branches where small birdschavished; a morn to drop gently down the river and ply the indolentrod; a morn for a canter on a brisk cob across the sweet-scentedmeadows; a morn for plucking flowers, smoking choice cigars,love-dreaming, or poetic musing--for anything, in fact, but thoughts ofsudden and violent death. It has been remarked by some moralists thatsunny, innocent, enjoyable morns, when the blood seems to boundjoyously in the veins, and the very act of breathing is a vividpleasure, have an ugly habit of intruding themselves unbidden whenarmies are about to join in strife or criminals are about to tread thescaffold.
The Gascon never before realized how very comfortable a world it is, andhow very disagreeable it would be to leave it while he was yet young andhealthy, with a sound stomach and a liver unconscious of derangement.But his pride was greater than his fears, and coating his doubts andapprehensions under a veneer of indifference, he was the first to warnhis friends of the necessity of being punctilious at the trysting-place.As punctuality is the courtesy of kings, so also is it of duellists.
The Gascon and his party were first on the ground--four of them, theprincipal, Blue Spectacles, Pale Face, and a young medical practitionerwith an ominous set of surgical instruments cunningly hidden in afiddle-case to disarm suspicion.
Hardly had they alighted from their _voiture_, and walked towards thevi
llage where O'Hara had arranged to meet them, when a singularapproaching whir of wheels was heard, blent with the noisy ululation ofa dog. Turning the corner, there came into view O'Hara and theO'Hoolohan riding to the rendezvous on bicycles! They had adopted thisoriginal method of evading the prying gendarmes of the locality. Pat hadfollowed them--followed them perforce; for the now lazy animal had beentied by a rope to the tool-box of a machine, and was forced to keep pacewith the 'steel steed.'
'Pardon, gentlemen,' said O'Hara, jumping from his tiny saddle, 'but ifwe are a little late it is my fault I did not think the gradients on theroad were so trying.'
The Gascon's friends advanced, accepted the excuse with excessive showof politeness, and Blue Spectacles, as the senior, presented the doctorin form.
'Very thoughtful of you, indeed!' said O'Hara, in an undertone. 'My mannever hires a surgeon--never needs one, for the matter of that. Have youthat letter I spoke of ready?' at the same time handing the youngFrenchman a document to the following effect:
'This is to certify that the bearer, O'Hoolohan, 35, Irish of origin, and annuitant by station, unmarried, committed suicide on the 5th day of April, 1866, at Clamart, in the Department of the Seine, and that nobody is blamable for the despair which led him to the act.'
As Blue Spectacles read this curt, legally-framed document, he quakedand whitened, and a quiver of his eyes might be detected under theirultramarine protectors. But he nerved himself for the worst; after all,it is much easier to be brave when your bosom friend's fate is in thebalance than when your own precious carcass is in peril. The Frenchman,in return, handed O'Hara a perfumed, gilt-edged billet, with anarrow-pierced heart in chromo-lithography at the top of it. As it wascharacteristic of the Gascon, it may be interesting to give itscontents:
'Away, thou hollow world, with all thy vain pomps and glittering gauds! Farewell the friendship that is false, the love that is venal, the happiness that deceives like the desert mirage! Dash down the cup of revelry that brings but the fitful doze; welcome the bullet of relief that summons repose eternal! With my own hands I sign my doom; by my own hands I die! Not for me the roses of hope or the laurels of ambition, but the cypress of despair and disappointment. Cut off a tress of my hair and send it to my mother; a locket with a portrait will be discovered over my heart--bury it in my grave.
'EUG?NE SIRAUDIN.'
'That will do very nicely,' remarked O'Hara as he read this valentinefrom beyond the tomb; 'it is tenderly written--Lamartine with a flavourof De Musset. I should like to have a copy to send to the ManuscriptRoom of the British Museum. I suppose we're all here?'
'Where's your other witness?' asked Pale Face.
'In England we consider one enough; but if you insist upon it, we shalllook upon my dog as discharging the duty.'
Pale Face grew white as a Pierrot. As for Blue Spectacles, thedevil-may-care ease of the Irishman had put him into a blue funk.
All this time the principals stood apart, acting the _r?le_ ofunconcerned spectators. That is the correct deportment in duels. Eug?neSiraudin puffed away at a cigarette; the O'Hoolohan, who was hot andruddy after his exertions on the bicycle, stretched himself on his backon the turf by the trunk of a roadside poplar.
'Gentlemen, it's getting late,' cried O'Hara. 'We had better tobusiness,' and he led the way, thrusting his bicycle by his side,through a gap in the field across to a postern in the wall of a villagarden, which was all he had described it--perfectly secure from thenotice of passers-by. The doctor laid his fiddle-case on the grass,opened it, and displayed the shining instruments. The ground was steppedby the young Irishman. Traces were made with chalk at the extremities,twenty paces asunder, and at the further five paces, in front of eachadversary's position, beyond which they were not to advance. O'Haraloaded the pistols and gave them to the Gascon's witnesses to examine.This they did in a very perfunctory way. The truth is, both wereignorant of the manner of loading a pistol, and, if they had the task toaccomplish themselves, were as likely as not to put in the wad beforethe powder. The pistols were of the percussion and ramrod type, and thecharges of powder and ball were supposed to be put in separately anddriven home.
'Take your choice,' said O'Hara to Blue Spectacles.
Blue Spectacles took the first to his hand, adding that with such anhonourable man there was no room for choice.
'Let your principal take what position he pleases,' said O'Hara, bowing;'it's immaterial to us.'
They got into their places, each in that nearest to where he wasstanding at the moment.
'Ready?' asked O'Hara.
Both nodded acquiescence.
'Who shall drop the handkerchief?'
'Will you oblige?' prayed Blue Spectacles, with a tremor in his voice.
'All right!'
The handkerchief was dropped.
Almost instantaneously the Gascon fired. The smoke lifted. O'Hoolohanstood erect, unhurt, a placid self-possessed expression on his setfeatures.
O'Hoolohan slowly moved five paces, halted; gradually raised his weapon,and deliberately aimed first at the Gascon's heart, then at his brain.It was a cruel experiment, but the Gascon bore it with splendidcourage. His complexion paled, it is true, and his mouth was restive,but his gaze was bold and almost disdainful. O'Hoolohan raised thepistol still higher, turned its muzzle perpendicularly, and dischargedit into the air, quietly saying, 'You are no coward; I am sorry for theexpression!'
After such a scene it was impossible to renew the combat. The Gascon, inhis turn, retracted the hasty language he had used, and the entire partybetook them to the hostelry where breakfast had been ordered by O'Hara'scare, all satisfied--except the surgeon, who had theories about gunshotwounds, and was not averse to having practice in their treatment.
The breakfast put them all--even the surgeon--into good humour. O'Haraknew how to draw up a bill of fare, and O'Hoolohan had given him _carteblanche_ as to the outlay. There was everything at the repast, in seasonand out of season, that could be had for money--truffles of Perigord,melons of Cavaillon, oysters of Cancale, Montmorency cherries, andMontreuil peaches, beside vintage and viands generous of quality andcopious in quantity.
When the repast was finished, and the customary _demi-tasses_ of blackMocha, with the small glasses of liqueur beside, were laid upon thetable, O'Hara gravely stood up in his place at the head, which had beentacitly conceded to him, and demanded the word--the French parliamentaryequivalent for asking permission to make a speech.
The permission was cordially granted by word of mouth from those whosemouths were empty, by token of assent from those who were still crackingnuts or coaxing tobacco into vaporous circulation.
'Messieurs,' he began, 'having satisfied honour and our appetites, Iclaim a few words on behalf of common-sense and conservatism. Firstly, Iam a Conservative--that is to say, I am tenacious of traditions amongother things; and it is a tradition of my country never to loose achance of making a speech. Several of my relatives carried the habit tosuch an extent that they made public discourses on their dyingday--discourses which were discourteously interrupted by vile publicfunctionaries. (Emotion.) Messieurs, you who are not vile, and who arenot public functionaries, and, indeed, who are never likely to be publicfunctionaries--you, I trust, will not interrupt me. (Cries of 'No, no.')I was sure of it. You yourselves are disciples of this great art oforatory. You cultivate it at the risk of coryza over the newly-filledgraves of dead friends. (Here Blue Spectacles and Pale Face winced.)Much as I admire eloquence, I am sincerely glad that there was nooccasion for rhetorical display of that kind this morning, and this itis which brings me to the common-sense side of my subject. Messieurs, inthe light of pure common-sense, I have a proposition to lay before you.It is this:--We are all asses. (Astonishment and attention.) Asses, ifnot worse, I repeat. If either of the principals in this morning's workwere to have killed the other, he would be now a homicidal ass, and thatother would be that very rare animal--a dead ass.
(Sensation.) As Ishould be one of the accessories, I refrain from dwelling on what theirposition would be. Messieurs, the duello is a folly--nay, more, it is acrime. What does it prove? Not that the survivor is truer or better thanthe slaughtered, but that he is luckier, or more skilful, or has lesscommand of the nerves that are in him, not of himself so much as ofnature. Both of you, gentlemen (addressing the Gascon and O'Hoolohan),have good command of nerves. Let me hope in the future you will havebetter command of temper. To resume my thesis, the merits of a quarrelare not affected by the issue. They remain as they were before.Dismissing the artificial accretions to the quarrel we so pleasantlysettled an hour ago, to what does it reduce itself? Two grown men, withfriends, with duties in life, with ambitions and affections,deliberately seek to slay each other for the sake of the shin-bone of awoman that neither would have dared to introduce to his mother.(Sensation.) Both knew her equally well, perhaps; both liked her,admired her beauty, pitied her misfortunes; but could either respect hercharacter? No! I will answer for all, no. Messieurs, I perceive youagree with me; and as I understand from my friend in the blue spectaclesthat he has the bone of contention in his possession, may I crave itfrom him, and do with it as I like?'
The Gascon said he might.
The O'Hoolohan cried 'All right!'
Blue Spectacles handed him the paper-knife.
'Then, messieurs,' exclaimed O'Hara, opening the window, 'away with it.Thus out of sight with aught that might cause malice between honestmen.' And he flung it spinning through the air, amid shouts of 'Bravo!Good, good!' from all except O'Hoolohan, whose face was twisted into aqueer look of deprecation.
But it had not gone out of sight. Pat the dog was watching it, and, asit fell, sprang through the open casement and bounded after it in thegrass. O'Hara was about to whistle him back, but he sniffed a moment atthe spot where the blade had dropped, and then turned and trotted backwith an air of pitiful contempt.
'That is singular!' soliloquized O'Hara aloud. 'I never knew a dog torefuse a bone before.'
He tapped on the table with a knife-handle, and on the waiter answeringto the call he requested him to fetch the paper-knife he would find inthe grass outside.
The waiter brought it back after a short search, and O'Hara carefullyexamined it.
'This, you are sure,' he asked of Blue Spectacles, 'was the originalbone of contention?'
'Certainly,' was the ready answer.
'Then there is some mistake here. Surely, monsieur,' turning to Eug?neSiraudin, 'you cannot have confounded an elephant with a human being?_This knife is of ivory!_'
O'Hoolohan jumped to his feet and snatched it. The Gascon reddened andstammered, 'I knew it all along; I said what I did about it through merebrag, to cap my friend's boast about the watch-guard of her hair, and Iwas ashamed to explain afterwards, lest it should look like cowardice.'
O'Hara sat down, ordered drinks all round, and then threw himself backin his chair, cocked his feet upon the table, and laughed a Homericlaugh. That laugh was contagious. Everybody laughed in a perfect gamutof laughter, from the shrill treble of Pale Face to the morose baritoneof the surgeon, and the deep watch-dog basso-profondo of the O'Hoolohan.And then everybody, save the surgeon, embraced everybody else; and theneverybody, the surgeon inclusive, drank their drinks.
'How lucky it was, gentlemen, you did not both kill each other!'exclaimed O'Hara, and he burst into a franker, more joyous guffaw thanever.
The sly rascal! They little knew that he had provided himself withpistols from a conjuring friend, and had withdrawn the bullets beforetheir eyes by the aid of a ramrod ending in a screw. The duel had beenfought, like that of Jeffreys and Tom Moore, with leadless weapons.
And thus ended the hostile meeting at Clamart, and thus was Marguerite,like a soldier, committed to oblivion with a discharge of harmlessgunpowder.
Mated from the Morgue: A Tale of the Second Empire Page 11
