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I bent my head without answering.

“Besides,” said he, “you have nothing to do with all this. Be easy, I have
written to Giordano this morning, and by the time we get back to Paris, all the
arrangements will be made. Do you think that Mons. de Château-Renaud would
possibly refuse my proposition?”

“Mons. de Château-Renaud has unfortunately a reputation for courage, which
does not admit a doubt on this subject.”

“Then all is for the best,” said Lucien.” “Let us go to breakfast.” We went
back to the road, and got into the cab.

“Driver,” said I, “Rue de Rivoli.”

“No,” Said Lucien, “you are my guest. Driver, to the Café de Paris. Is it not
there my brother usually took his meals?”

“I believe so.”

“Besides, I have told Giordano to meet us there.”

“Well then, to the Café de Paris.”

In about half an hour we alighted at the door of the Restaurant.

Lucien’s entrée was a new proof of the astonishing resemblance between him
and his brother. The circumstance of Louis’ death had become known, not in all
its particulars, it is true, but it was known, and Lucien’s appearance here
seemed to strike every body with an amazement almost stupefying.

I asked for a private cabinet, and left orders for the Baron Giordano to be
shown into it, immediately on his arrival.

We were ushered into a room at the lower end of the salon. Lucien began to
read the papers, with a calmness which looked like insensibility. When we were
about half through our breakfast, Giordano came in.

The two young men had not seen each other for four or five years,
notwithstanding which, a pressure of their hands was the only demonstration of
friendship which they gave each other.

“Well, all is arranged!” said Giordano.

“Mons. de Château-Renaud has accepted?”

“Yes, but on condition, that after this he will be left unmolested.”

“Oh! he may rest assured of it. I am the last of the de Franchi! Have you
seen him or his seconds?”

“I saw him. He has offered himself to inform Mons. de Boissy as well a, Mons.
de Châteaugrand. As for the weapons, time and place, they will all be the same.”

“Excellent! Take that seat and eat your breakfast.”

The baron sat down, and we spoke of other things. After breakfast Lucien
requested me to make him known to the commissary of police who had put on the
seals, and also to the proprietor of the house where his brother had lived. He
wished to pass in Louis’ chamber the last night that separated him from his
vengeance.

All these different arrangements took up the greater part of the day; and it
was not until five o’clock in the afternoon that Lucien could take possession of
the residence of his unfortunate brother.

We left him alone. Grief has a bashfulness, which demands respect.

Lucien gave me a rendezvous for the following morning at eight o’clock; he
requested me to try to get the same pistols, and to buy them if they were for
sale.

I went immediately to Devisme and the bargain was soon concluded, for six
hundred francs.

The following morning, at a quarter before eight, I was at Lucien’s door.

When I came in, he was sitting in the same place, and writing on the same
table where I had found his brother similarly engaged.

He had a smile on his lips, though he looked very pale.

“Good morning,” began he; “I am writing to my mother.”

“I hope you will make her a less painful communication, than that which your
brother made eight days ago.”

“I inform her that she can now quietly pray for her son, and that he is
avenged.”

“How can you speak with so much certainty?”

“Did not my brother announce his death to you, beforehand? I, in advance, now
assure you of the death of Mons. de Château-Renaud. Look here!” said he, rising
and touching my temple, I shall lodge the bullet there.”

“And you?”

“He will not even touch me!”

“But at least wait till after the duel, before you dispatch this letter.”

“That’s altogether useless.”

He rang the bell. The servant entered.