A Tramp Abroad. Mark Twain

you considered, sir, what would be the inevitable result of such a meeting as this?”

      “Well, for instance, what would it be?”

      “Bloodshed!”

      “That’s about the size of it,” I said. “Now, if it is a fair question, what was your side proposing to shed?”

      I had him there. He saw he had made a blunder, so he hastened to explain it away. He said he had spoken jestingly. Then he added that he and his principal would enjoy axes, and indeed prefer them, but such weapons were barred by the French code, and so I must change my proposal.

      I walked the floor, turning the thing over in my mind, and finally it occurred to me that Gatling-guns at fifteen paces would be a likely way to get a verdict on the field of honor. So I framed this idea into a proposition.

      But it was not accepted. The code was in the way again. I proposed rifles; then double-barreled shotguns; then Colt’s navy revolvers. These being all rejected, I reflected awhile, and sarcastically suggested brickbats at three-quarters of a mile. I always hate to fool away a humorous thing on a person who has no perception of humor; and it filled me with bitterness when this man went soberly away to submit the last proposition to his principal.

      He came back presently and said his principal was charmed with the idea of brickbats at three-quarters of a mile, but must decline on account of the danger to disinterested parties passing between them. Then I said:

      “Well, I am at the end of my string, now. Perhaps you would be good enough to suggest a weapon? Perhaps you have even had one in your mind all the time?”

      His countenance brightened, and he said with alacrity:

      “Oh, without doubt, monsieur!”

      So he fell to hunting in his pockets – pocket after pocket, and he had plenty of them – muttering all the while, “Now, what could I have done with them?”

      At last he was successful. He fished out of his vest pocket a couple of little things which I carried to the light and ascertained to be pistols. They were single-barreled and silver-mounted, and very dainty and pretty. I was not able to speak for emotion. I silently hung one of them on my watch-chain, and returned the other. My companion in crime now unrolled a postage-stamp containing several cartridges, and gave me one of them. I asked if he meant to signify by this that our men were to be allowed but one shot apiece. He replied that the French code permitted no more. I then begged him to go and suggest a distance, for my mind was growing weak and confused under the strain which had been put upon it. He named sixty-five yards. I nearly lost my patience. I said:

      “Sixty-five yards, with these instruments? Squirt-guns would be deadlier at fifty. Consider, my friend, you and I are banded together to destroy life, not make it eternal.”

      But with all my persuasions, all my arguments, I was only able to get him to reduce the distance to thirty-five yards; and even this concession he made with reluctance, and said with a sigh, “I wash my hands of this slaughter; on your head be it.”

      There was nothing for me but to go home to my old lion-heart and tell my humiliating story. When I entered, M. Gambetta was laying his last lock of hair upon the altar. He sprang toward me, exclaiming:

      “You have made the fatal arrangements – I see it in your eye!”

      “I have.”

      His face paled a trifle, and he leaned upon the table for support. He breathed thick and heavily for a moment or two, so tumultuous were his feelings; then he hoarsely whispered:

      “The weapon, the weapon! Quick! what is the weapon?”

      “This!” and I displayed that silver-mounted thing. He cast but one glance at it, then swooned ponderously to the floor.

      When he came to, he said mournfully:

      “The unnatural calm to which I have subjected myself has told upon my nerves. But away with weakness! I will confront my fate like a man and a Frenchman.”

      He rose to his feet, and assumed an attitude which for sublimity has never been approached by man, and has seldom been surpassed by statues. Then he said, in his deep bass tones:

      “Behold, I am calm, I am ready; reveal to me the distance.”

      “Thirty-five yards.”…

      I could not lift him up, of course; but I rolled him over, and poured water down his back. He presently came to, and said:

      “Thirty-five yards – without a rest? But why ask? Since murder was that man’s intention, why should he palter with small details? But mark you one thing: in my fall the world shall see how the chivalry of France meets death.”

      After a long silence he asked:

      “Was nothing said about that man’s family standing up with him, as an offset to my bulk? But no matter; I would not stoop to make such a suggestion; if he is not noble enough to suggest it himself, he is welcome to this advantage, which no honorable man would take.”

      He now sank into a sort of stupor of reflection, which lasted some minutes; after which he broke silence with:

      “The hour – what is the hour fixed for the collision?”

      “Dawn, tomorrow.”

      He seemed greatly surprised, and immediately said:

      “Insanity! I never heard of such a thing. Nobody is abroad at such an hour.”

      “That is the reason I named it. Do you mean to say you want an audience?”

      “It is no time to bandy words. I am astonished that M. Fourtou should ever have agreed to so strange an innovation. Go at once and require a later hour.”

      I ran downstairs, threw open the front door, and almost plunged into the arms of M. Fourtou’s second. He said:

      “I have the honor to say that my principal strenuously objects to the hour chosen, and begs you will consent to change it to half past nine.”

      “Any courtesy, sir, which it is in our power to extend is at the service of your excellent principal. We agree to the proposed change of time.”

      “I beg you to accept the thanks of my client.” Then he turned to a person behind him, and said, “You hear, M. Noir, the hour is altered to half past nine.” Whereupon M. Noir bowed, expressed his thanks, and went away. My accomplice continued:

      “If agreeable to you, your chief surgeons and ours shall proceed to the field in the same carriage as is customary.”

      “It is entirely agreeable to me, and I am obliged to you for mentioning the surgeons, for I am afraid I should not have thought of them. How many shall I want? I supposed two or three will be enough?”

      “Two is the customary number for each party. I refer to ‘chief’ surgeons; but considering the exalted positions occupied by our clients, it will be well and decorous that each of us appoint several consulting surgeons, from among the highest in the profession. These will come in their own private carriages. Have you engaged a hearse?”

      “Bless my stupidity, I never thought of it! I will attend to it right away. I must seem very ignorant to you; but you must try to overlook that, because I have never had any experience of such a swell duel as this before. I have had a good deal to do with duels on the Pacific coast, but I see now that they were crude affairs. A hearse – sho! we used to leave the elected lying around loose, and let anybody cord them up and cart them off that wanted to. Have you anything further to suggest?”

      “Nothing, except that the head undertakers shall ride together, as is usual. The subordinates and mutes will go on foot, as is also usual. I will see you at eight o’clock in the morning, and we will then arrange the order of the procession. I have the honor to bid you a good day.”

      I returned to my client, who said, “Very well; at what hour is the engagement to begin?”

      “Half past nine.”

      “Very good indeed. Have you sent the fact to the newspapers?”

      “Sir!