But Manville surged forward, anger flickering in his hazel eyes. He raised his hand to strike, but Colin was much faster. He drove a blow straight into Manville’s face, right in the mouth. The force of it nearly forced Manville off his feet. Blood seeped out of his lips, and he reached up and touched it. “You all saw it,” he said loudly. “He hit me! You can get away with that in France, but not here. I’ll have my second call on you.”
Colin stared at him, his eyes cold. “I have delegated all that sort of fighting to my dog, Manville.”
Manville cursed. “You’ll fight,” he said. “You may be handy with your fist, but I’ll have you with a sword or a pistol. You can take your pick.”
“My choice is to throw you out of here if you don’t leave now.”
The blood was dripping off Manville’s chin, and he wiped it with his hand. Hatred was like venom in his voice. “I’ll drive you out of New Orleans, Seymour. You won’t be able to leave your hotel room.”
At that instant the manager appeared, saying, “I must ask you to leave, or I will send for the police.”
“I’m leaving,” Manville said. “My lord, you’ll fight, or I’ll give you no peace.” He turned and left with his friends.
Bayard stood beside Colin. “It was my fight,” he said. “It just hap-pened so quickly I couldn’t handle it. She’s my sister.”
“No, it’s me they’re after.”
“But she’s my sister.”
“He’s not doing this on his own, Bayard.”
Suddenly Simone understood. She knew that Leon Manville was nothing but a crony of Claude Vernay’s. As clearly as if it were writ-ten out, she knew that it was Vernay who had sent him. “Let’s leave,” she said.
Colin nodded. “I think it’s time.”
Simone felt afraid. She knew that Claude Vernay was a merciless man. She couldn’t say anything, but she feared for Colin. The three paid their bill and left the restaurant.
The manager said to his chief waiter, “That is a bad thing. He means blood.”
“But would he be permitted to fight a member of the nobility, a famous man like Lord Beaufort?”
“When a man wants blood,” the manager said, “he will do what-ever he has to to see it.”
Simone heard two days later about the persecution that Leon Manville was exacting on Colin. Bayard told her, “Manville’s really out to make him fight. He was at the opera night before last. He shouted that Colin was a coward and made such a scene they had to throw him out.”
“Couldn’t the police do anything?”
“You know how they are about this dueling business. They see it as kind of a game.” Bayard’s voice was bitter. “Leon even went into the barbershop where Colin was getting his hair cut and cursed him. Colin held himself in, so I hear, but he can’t forever. Something’s got to be done. I just don’t know what.”
All of this disturbed Simone terribly. She knew that Leon Manville was a bully, and his reputation as a duelist was well known to every-one in New Orleans. Finally she sent for Claude, asking him to meet her at Jackson Square. She did not want to have him in her home.
When he arrived, he smiled and said, “Well, my stock must be going up in the world. You’re speaking to me again.”
Simone had made up her mind what to say. “Claude, you must stop this terrible thing you’re doing to Colin.”
“I’m not doing a thing to Colin. It’s Leon.”
“Leon never had a thought in his head that you didn’t put there.”
“I tell you I have nothing to do with it.”
“Don’t lie to me, Claude! I know you better than that.”
Claude’s face grew pale. “If you were a man, I would have you out for calling me a liar.”
“I’m sure you would. That’s what you do.”
“You’re falling for this singer, aren’t you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Claude, you’re going to get into serious trouble if you fight this man. No matter how it turns out, you’ll lose.”
Claude Vernay seemed not to have heard. “You’re in love with him,” he said, “but I’ll tell you this.” He lowered his voice, and his lips twisted in a cruel expression. “He’ll never have you. I promise you that.”
Vernay turned and walked away, his back straight, and Simone knew that she had made a mistake even talking to him about the matter.
Chapter seventeen
“We’ve got to do something, Bayard,” Simone said. “Things can’t go on like this.”
Bayard looked up from his painting and saw the distress on Simone’s face. For a time, she had sat silently watching him, but then she burst out with concern for their friend. He put his brush down. Fresh, pale sunlight streamed through the windows, illuminating the study, and from outside a mockingbird filled the air with music. It was Thursday, September the eighteenth, and a week had passed since the encounter with Manville in the cafe.
“I don’t know exactly what we can do.”
“I went to Claude. He’s behind all this, you know.”
“I wasn’t sure you understood that.”
“Of course I do. Leon didn’t think up a thing like this. He had no quarrel with you or with Colin, but Claude hates him.”
“It’s because of you, isn’t it? He wants you to marry him, and you’ve refused him.”
“I was never serious about Claude. Oh, well, maybe I was.” Simone sighed. “I was younger and impressionable, and he was better in those days.”
“He was always a cruel man. I knew it, and I was surprised you didn’t see it. I should have said something.” His face lit up with an idea. “Maybe I ought to call Leon out myself.”
“No, you mustn’t do that! Neither of you needs to fight Leon. That’s what he wants. He’s nothing but a butcher.”
“That’s about what it amounts to. You remember poor Fred Graham? He displeased Leon, and Leon insulted him. It wound up in a duel, and Leon cut poor Fred to pieces. He’s an expert swordsman. Better than anyone except Claude.”
“I’m going to go talk to Colin,” Simone said.
“You can talk to him, but what can he do? Leon’s following him around the streets. No man can take those insults without breaking.”
“Anything would be better than getting maimed or killed,” Simone said. “I’ve got to try.”
“You can try, but Colin’s a pretty stubborn fellow. I doubt if he’ll listen to you.”
Simone found out that Bayard was right about Colin. She had called on him at his hotel, and he had come down to the lobby and taken her to the restaurant where they drank café au lait. Simone studied him carefully and saw little sign of strain on his face. He did not men-tion Leon, so finally she brought up the subject.
“I’ve heard about all the awful things that Leon is doing to you, Colin.”
“He has become quite a pest.” Colin lifted the small cup, sipped from it, and shrugged. “I can’t put up with it much longer.”
Simone felt a quick surge of fear. “You mustn’t fight him, Colin. He’s deadly with a sword. And it’s beneath you.”
Even though Colin had set out for revenge, his return to New Orleans had awakened his faith and had stirred uncharted, romantic feelings in him for the first time. Still, he could not ignore Leon’s proddings any longer. “It’s not my choice, Simone. I’d be glad to walk away from it, but it seems he won’t permit that.”
Simone said, “It’s not Leon. It’s Claude. He’s the one who hates you.”
“Because of you.”
Simone was startled. She had not expected him to say—or to know—that. “He’s been in love with me for a long time—at least as much as a man like him can be in love. I was flattered by his atten-tions when I was younger. He started coming around when I was only seventeen. He was handsome and rich, and so many of the younger men, like Bayard, admired him. He’s an expert with a sword or pistol. That was exciting to me.” Her lips twisted bitterly, and she said, “I should have known better.”
&n
bsp; “This dueling code is a bad thing. I think it got started some-where in Europe, this code-of-honor business. I wish men had never heard of it,” Colin said.
“So do I. They use the word ‘honor’ like the chorus of a song. They look for any excuse to cut someone down. And quarrels among the Creoles hardly ever end in fistfights,” Simone said. “There is some sort of unwritten law that absolutely forbids the striking of a blow, and anybody who forgets it is barred from the so-called privilege of the duello. These men feel as if they’ve been insulted if they are refused a meeting.”
The two drank their coffee. Simone added, “I don’t under-stand it, Colin. The least breach of etiquette, any sort of impolite-ness, even awkwardness can create a challenge, and nobody dares refuse.”
“I understand that sometimes duels are fought between two young men who simply want to fight, with no problem at all between them.”
“Bayard told me about one of those. He said there were six young Creoles who were promenading the streets one night. One of them said, ‘Oh, what a beautiful night. What splendid level ground for a joust. Suppose we pair off and draw our swords and make this night memorable by spontaneous display of bravery and skill.’ Isn’t that foolish?”
“What happened, Simone?”
“Well, the idiots fought until two of their number lay dead in the field.”
“It’s all foolishness,” he said, “but I’m going to have to do some-thing about Manville.”
“Oh, please, you mustn’t fight him! It’s not right. It will be like Armand.”
Colin looked at her. “You still think about that?”
“Of course I do. The older I get, the more I think of what a fool I was. A brainless girl!”
“Actually, I don’t think there was much you could have done. Armand was a strong-willed man, and he felt he had been insulted. He was caught up in this duello thing, the only irresponsible impulse I ever saw in him.”
Simone felt miserable at the memory. “You think of it, too, don’t you? You must have hated all of us after it happened.”
Colin said quietly, “For years, I brooded over it. Armand, at the last when he was dying, begged me to forgive Claude, but I was never able to do it.”
“You must have hated me also.”
“Armand was the most important person in my life, the one who had been kind to me above all others, so I loathed everthing about New Orleans, especially Claude and the stupid duello code.” He smiled. “But I find that I don’t have that in my heart anymore. I don’t want to fight anyone.”
“I’m glad to hear that, and I’m glad you no longer feel hatred for me.”
Colin reached over and took her free hand. “I see a difference in you, Simone. You’re not the same as you were. You’ve always been beautiful, but now I see beauty on the inside.”
Simone met his eyes and saw the honesty and truth there. “Then you won’t fight him,” she said.
“I think sooner or later I’ll have to or leave town.”
Simone wanted to plead with him, but she saw the firmness of his lips, the steadfastness of his eyes, and knew that it was useless. He removed his hand, and she said, “I’ll pray for you, that it will never happen.”
Colin did not answer. He knew that Leon Manville would never stop. He had made up his mind even before Simone’s visit that it would have to come to a halt, and he had a plan. He knew that Simone was afraid that he would be cut down like Armand, but he knew that this would be different.
Colin did not have to wait long to put his plan into operation. The very next day Leon accosted him as he got out of the carriage to go into the opera house. Manville rushed forward, his face red, and shouted curses at him. “You coward! You filthy coward!” Manville raved. “Why don’t you put on a skirt? You’re nothing, you hear me? Nothing!”
Colin turned and faced Manville. He said, “I’m tired of your yap-ping, Manville.”
“Then why don’t you fight?”
“I think I will.” Colin was aware that a crowd had gathered around the two. The quarrel was known throughout New Orleans, and he knew there were odds offered on whether or not he would fight. He smiled. Before Leon could move, he cracked him across the face, staggering the man. “There. That’s what I think of you.”
Leon stared at Colin, hatred blazing in his hazel eyes. “My man will call on you, sir. I’m looking forward to our engagement.”
“I hope you’ll enjoy yourself now, because you won’t afterwards,” Colin said.
Manville laughed, and two of the men who had accompanied him laughed also. “You hear the rooster crow, my fellows? Since I’m the challenged one, I have the choice of weapons. It will be pistols, and I guarantee it won’t be a flesh wound. You’ll have a hole right between your eyes.”
Colin shrugged and said, “Have your man call. I’ll be glad to see him.”
Bayard entered the house with his shoulders drooping. Simone was passing through the foyer on the way to the study when she saw him. “What’s wrong, Bayard?”
“It’s Colin. He’s accepted a challenge, and he’s asked me to be his second.”
“Oh no, that can’t be!”
Bayard shook his head angrily. He ran his hands through his hair and said, “I’ve tried everything I can think of to stop him, but he won’t. He says he can’t live under those conditions any longer.”
“He’ll be killed,” Simone whispered.
“That’s what Manville will try for. You know, in many of these duels they just aim to draw a little blood, but Manville’s serious about this. Claude’s got him worked up, and he’ll kill Colin if he can.”
“Can’t we do anything?”
“I’ve tried to think of something, but I can’t find a solution.”
“Why can’t we call the authorities? Dueling is against the law.”
Bayard laughed bitterly. “You know how much attention the police pay to this. Why, they’re making bets along with everybody else. They always manage to get there after the duel is over.”
Simone said nothing. In her heart she was crying out, Oh, Colin, don’t do it. Don’t let yourself be destroyed.
The duel was set for seven o’clock in the morning on a Saturday. The first frost had already touched the city, but as Colin traveled to the spot selected for the duel, he noticed that the sky was absolutely blue and cloudless, without an imperfection in it. Robins had filled the trees along the bayous, and camellias that appeared fashioned from crepe paper still bloomed with all the colors of summer even though winter was on its way.
The air was cool as he approached the spot that smelled of wet trees and torn leaves blowing in the wind. Colin saw that a large crowd had gathered. The whole thing disgusted him, but he could see no way to solve the problem except by the means he had chosen.
Bayard approached him. His face was white and drawn. “There’s still time to fix this thing, Colin.”
“I don’t think so.” Colin looked across the field and saw that Claude Vernay was standing with Leon. “I see Vernay’s here,” he said.
“Yes, he’s Leon’s second.”
“Well, let’s get to it.”
“We go over, and the two seconds are supposed to try to work out some sort of apology. It never happens, though.”
The two walked over to Vernay and Manville. Bayard began to speak of the possibility of an apology, but Colin glared into the eyes of Claude Vernay. It was a handsome face, but there was no mercy there. The eyes were opaque. It was as if they were a flat surface with nothing behind them. Colin listened as Bayard spoke, but he knew that it was a waste of time.
“My man is ready,” Vernay said flatly.
Bayard shook his head and turned to Colin. “I am ready also, sir.” Bayard could hardly restrain himself. He said bitterly, “Claude, I can’t believe you were my friend once.”
“I’m still your friend, Bayard.”
“No, you’re not.” He would have said more, but Colin inter-rupted. “Let the thing proceed,” he sai
d.
“Good.” Manville grinned ruthlessly. He was enjoying himself, anticipating an easy victory. “Will you examine the weapons?”
“I’ve seen to the loading,” Bayard said.
Colin picked up the two pistols and seemed to be weighing them.
“Choose whichever you want,” Manville said with a sneer. “I can kill you with either one of them.”
Colin held a pistol in each hand. He casually stuck them in the band of his trousers.
“What are you doing?” Manville demanded.
“Just testing, if you don’t mind, to be sure they’re true.” He reached into his pocket and drew out some coins. He selected two, held them up, and said, “These should do.”
“Do for what? What is this nonsense?” Vernay asked angrily.
“Surely you don’t mind if I test the accuracy of the weapons.”
In Paris, Colin had often performed a trick. After years of steady practice, he had grown to be deadly accurate. He took the two coins and without another word flung them high into the air. The early morning sun caught the glittering coins. Colin leisurely pulled the two pistols, fired with his right hand then his left. The two coins dis-appeared, and a cry of admiration went out over the crowd.
“I think these will do. Tell me, Manville, would you prefer to be shot in your left eye or your right?”
Manville’s face had grown still. He shot a quick glance at Claude Vernay and said hoarsely, “I’ve changed my mind. It’ll be swords.”
“That’s fine with me,” Colin said.
“I brought the blades just in case,” Vernay said. He retrieved the weapons and presented them to the duelists. He told Colin, “Take your pick.”
Colin took both swords, held them, and said, “You know, I’m one of those strange fellows. I’m ambidextrous.”
“What does that mean?” Manville demanded.
“It means I can kill you with either hand, right or left, it makes no difference. When my right arm gets tired, I simply swap to my left. I have a great advantage, you see.”
Vernay said, “You’re a boaster, but Leon has never been beaten except by me.”
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