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I took the watch and pressing de Franchi’s hand,

“In eight minutes,” said I, “I hope to give it back to you.”

“Let us not speak any more of that,” replied he, “the gentlemen are
approaching.”

“Gentlemen,” said the Viscount de Châteaugrand, “there must be somewhere
about here a glade, which I have used on my own account last year. Shall we seek
it? We would be much better there than in a lane, where we could be seen and
disturbed.”

“Guide us, sir,” said Giordano; “we follow you.”

The viscount walked first, we following, forming two separate groups. Indeed
we soon found ourselves, after a gentle descent of about thirty steps, in the
middle of a glade, which had no doubt formerly been a pond like that of Auteuil,
and which being entirely dried up formed a sort of bog, surrounded on all sides
by a gentle slope.

The ground seemed, therefore, expressly made to serve as the theatre of the
scene which was about to take place here.

“Monsieur de Martelli,” said the viscount, “will you measure the steps with
me?”

The baron answered by bowing an affirmative; then placing himself along side
of M. de Châteaugrand, they measured twenty ordinary steps.

I was left a few seconds longer alone with de Franchi.

“Apropos,” said he, “you will find my will on the table, where I was writing
when you came in.”

“Very well, replied I, be easy.”

“Gentlemen, whenever you please,” said the Viscount de Châteaugrand.

“I am ready,” said Louis. Then turning to me with a sad and melancholy smile,
“Farewell! my dear friend,” continued he, “accept my thanks for all the trouble
I have given you, and for that which I may yet occasion you.”

I took hold of his hand, it was cold but not agitated.

“Well now,” said I, “forget the vision of last night, and take the best aim
you can.”

“Do you recollect the Freischutz?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, you know that each bullet has its destination. Farewell!”

He met on his way the Baron de Giordano, who held in his hand the pistol
which was destined for him. He took it, cocked it, and without even looking at
it, went and took his position at the spot indicated by a handkerchief.

Mons. de Château-Renaud was already in his place.

There was a moment of grave silence, during which the two opponents saluted,
first their own seconds, then the seconds of their adversary, and lastly each
other.

Mons. de Château-Renaud appeared to be perfectly accustomed to this kind of
affairs, and he smiled, like a man sure of his own skill. Besides, he knew
perhaps, that this was the first time that Louis de Franchi had ever handled a
pistol.

Louis was calm and cold; his fine head looked like a marble bust.

“Well, gentlemen,” said Château-Renaud, “you see we are waiting.”

Louis gave me a last look, and then with a smile raised his eyes to heaven.

“Allons! gentlemen,” said Châteaugrand, “prepare!”

Then clapping his hands together, cried out, “One—two—three.”

The two shots gave only one report.

At the same moment I saw Louis de Franchi turn himself round twice and fall
on his knee.

Mons. de Château-Renaud remained upright; the facing of his coat only was
shot through.

I rushed up to Louis.

“You are wounded!” exclaimed I.

He tried to answer me, but in vain; a bloody foam appeared upon his lips. At
the same time he let the pistol fall, and brought his hand up to the right side
of his breast.

A hole, hardly large enough to admit the tip of the little finger, was
visible in his overcoat.

“Baron,” cried I, “run to the barrack and bring the surgeon of the regiment
here.”

But de Franchi summoning all his remaining strength, stopped Giordano, by
making a sign with his head that it was unnecessary.

At the same time he fell upon his other knee.

Mons. de Château-Renaud left the place immediately, but the seconds
approached the wounded man.

Meanwhile we had unbuttoned his overcoat and torn his vest and shirt open.

The bullet had entered under the sixth rib, on the right side, and gone out a
little above the left hip.