Cherami went across fields to the village of Bagnolet, thence to Belleville, and returned to his domicile, consigning the Capucine family and its rabbits to the evil one.

"No seconds," he said to himself, as he went to bed; "and the count's will be here at ten o'clock to-morrow! No matter; let's go to sleep; it will be light to-morrow."

At seven o'clock, Cherami rose, dressed, and went to his window. It was just daylight, and Rue de l'Orillon was deserted. About eight o'clock, a water-carrier's cart came along. It stopped in front of Madame Louchard's house, and the master carrier and his man came upstairs with their pails.

Cherami opened his door, and scrutinized the two men closely as they came up.

"There are two stout fellows," he mused. "Sapristi! such seconds would just do for my affair! Why not? Pardieu! by making a slight sacrifice; and this is no time for economizing, but for going through with my duel in a dignified way. Gad! I am inclined to think that it's a good idea; I see no other way of obtaining seconds."

Cherami waited for the two men to come down the stairs; he stopped them as they passed, asked them into his room, and said to them:

"I have a favor to ask of you, messieurs."

The master, a tall, robust Auvergnat, replied, in the accent of his province:

"A pail to fill?"

"No."

"Do you want some water?"

"It is something out of your regular line. It will be a change for you."

"We must serve our customers."

"Listen to me first. If your customers should be served a little later than usual for once, it won't kill them. I have a duel to arrange for. Do you know what a duel is?"

"It's a clock that strikes the hours, ain't it?"

"You are a long way off."

The apprentice, a young Piedmontese, nearly six feet tall, suddenly exclaimed:

"Yes, yes, I know the vendetta, basta! I've seen friends who'd been out to fight with fists."

"Your young man understands rather better; yes, a duel's a fight, but not with fists."

"Where do you fight?" rejoined the Piedmontese.

Cherami made a wry face, muttering:

"Sapristi! I prefer the Auvergnat accent to that jargon.—Look you, messieurs, I just want you to be my seconds; I expect my opponent's seconds here at ten o'clock, and you must both be here then. I will give you a hundred sous each for the morning; and you will be free at half-past ten; for the fight will not come off till to-morrow, I fancy."

"All right! five francs; all right!"

"What have we got to do?"

"In the first place, my boy, you will be good enough not to speak at all; for you have a way of pronouncing your t's and s's which will produce a very bad effect. Your master can say that you're a Pole, and that you don't know a word of French. That's your rÔle, then—to say nothing. But I must dress you, my friends; I can't have seconds in short jackets. Do you own a coat, my boy?"

"No, but I've got a much better jacket."

"I don't want seconds in jackets. My landlady must have some coats that belonged to her late husband; we will get one of them. Have you a hat?"

"I have a new cap."

"How you run your words together! We'll find a hat somewhere in the house.—And you, master—what's your name?"

"Michel."

"Good! well, Michel, have you any good clothes?"

"Dame! I should say so; my new frock-coat—only three years old—which comes down to my heels."

"Then I'll make an old soldier of you. You must put on a black stock. Go and dress. Put your cask in a safe place, and come back at once with your man, whom I will dress. Be here at half-past nine, and I will tell you what you have to do; it will be very simple. You will agree to whatever is proposed by the men who come here."

"We will agree, if they'll pay for something to drink."

"There's no question of taking anything to drink. However, I shall be here; I'll prompt you. Go, and make haste."

"And the five francs?"

"Here they are; I pay in advance; you see that I have confidence in you."

"Oh! never fear; our word's sacred.—Come, Piedmontese. Let's go and take care of the cask."

"Where'll you put it?"

"In the next yard."

The water-carriers departed, and Cherami went down to his landlady.

"Have you a man's hat to loan me for this morning and to-morrow?" he asked her.

"A man's hat? What do you want it for?"

"Don't be alarmed; I don't propose to make an omelet in it, as the prestidigitators do; I want it for someone to wear."

"Yes, I have a hat that belonged to Louchard, which I am keeping to give my godson when he grows up."

"Do me the favor to loan it to me; I will take the best of care of it."

"I trust you will."

Madame Louchard left the room, and soon returned with a felt hat in reasonably good condition.

"Look; I call that rather fine, myself!"

"The devil! it's gray."

"Well! it's all the more stylish."

"I don't say it isn't, in summer; but in November gray hats are not worn much."

"If you don't want it, leave it."

"Never mind; I'll take it. A Pole may like gray hats at all seasons. Now, Madame Louchard, I must have either an overcoat or a frock-coat."

"I have nothing but a green sack-coat of Louchard's, which I also intend for my godson."

"A sack-coat! that's risky, because it shows the trousers! But, no matter! give it to me."

"You'll be responsible for it?"

"I'll be responsible for everything."

Cherami returned to his room with the clothes; at half-past nine, the water-carriers appeared. The Auvergnat wore a long blue overcoat that reached to his heels, a collar that came to the bottom of his ears, and a three-cornered hat. He was a perfect type of a laundryman going out to dinner. The Piedmontese was still in his jacket; but he had on a white striped waistcoat and olive-green trousers. Cherami bade him put on the green coat, which was too short in front and showed half of the waistcoat. By way of compensation, the late Louchard evidently had an enormous head, for the gray hat came down so far that it almost concealed the young water-carrier's eyes. These preparations completed, Cherami, having examined his two seconds, exclaimed:

"What in the devil will they take you for? However, damn the odds!—You, Piedmontese, will bow whenever anyone speaks to you, but you must not say a word in reply."

"Never fear! what would I say to them, anyway?"

"Very good! You are Monsieur de Chamousky, a Polish nobleman."

"No; for I was born in Piedmont."

"Hold your tongue; I make you a Pole!—You, Michel, are a wealthy land-holder from Auvergne; at all events, you will be rightfully entitled to your accent."

"Yes, yes, I have some land at home, and all planted with chestnuts."

"The gentlemen who are coming will tell you what weapons the count proposes to fight with, also the time and place; to whatever they propose, you will reply: 'Very well, we agree.'—Do you understand?"

"Pardi! that ain't very hard: 'Very well; that hits us!'"

"I didn't say: 'That hits us,' but: 'We agree.'"

"Bah! it amounts to the same thing."

"No, no! Sacrebleu! it doesn't amount to the same thing! Don't you go making mistakes; no foolishness! Ah! mon Dieu! I hear a carriage stopping in front of the house; two gentlemen are getting out—they are the ones. Attention! I leave the door unlocked, so that they can open it themselves. I go into this little dark closet for a moment; I want them to think that I have more than this one room. Now: a serious face, heads up, and be cool!"

Cherami disappeared. The two water-carriers stared at each other in speechless amazement to see themselves so finely arrayed. Soon there was a knock at the door; then, as no one answered, the door was opened, and Monsieur de la BÉriniÈre's two seconds entered the room.

One was a man of some fifty years, tall and thin, with a decidedly unamiable manner, a rigid bearing, and a severely simple costume. The other, who was at least fifteen years younger, with a pleasant face, and dressed in the height of fashion, had all the manners of a modern Don Juan. He entered the room first, and, having glanced about, exclaimed:

"This isn't the place; it can't be; the woman directed us wrong."

"But there are some people here," said the other; "we had better inquire.—Monsieur Cherami, if you please?" he continued, addressing the Auvergnat, who stood in the centre of the room.

The water-carrier buried his chin in his cravat, and answered, without hesitation:

"Very well; we agree."

The old gentleman turned to his companion, who said:

"He did not understand you."—Whereupon he, in his turn, addressed the Auvergnat: "We desire to know, monsieur, if this is where Monsieur Cherami lives."

Again Michel replied in his deep voice:

"Very well; we agree."

At that, the young man burst out laughing.

"Gad!" he exclaimed; "this is evidently a joke, a wager! What do you think about it, Monsieur de MaugrillÉ?"

"I think that we did not come here to joke, and if I knew that there was any purpose to make fools of us——"

Cherami, who was listening, and saw that his seconds were in a fair way to wreck the whole business, hastily left the closet, and saluted the new-comers with much courtesy, saying:

"Pardon, messieurs, a thousand pardons! I crave a little indulgence for my seconds,—most respectable persons, by the way,—one of whom, being a Pole, recently arrived in France, is not able as yet to express his thoughts in our language. As for the other, Monsieur de Saint-Michel, a wealthy land-holder in the outskirts of Clermont, in Auvergne—he is not yet at home in all the details of affairs of this sort. However, messieurs, as I have determined in advance to agree to what Monsieur de la BÉriniÈre may suggest, it seems to me that your mission is very much simplified, and that the affair will settle itself; my seconds are here only as a matter of form."

"Ordinarily, monsieur, the details of a meeting are not arranged with the adversary himself, but with his seconds."

"I know it, monsieur. Pardieu! you cannot teach me how affairs are managed in duels; this isn't the first time I have fought."

"In that case, monsieur," queried the younger man, with a smile, "why did you select seconds who apparently have no understanding of what is going on?"

"Because I found no others at hand, in all probability," retorted Cherami, biting his lips wrathfully. "Come, messieurs, let us come to terms. Is it such a difficult matter, pray, to tell us where, when, and how the count proposes to fight?"

"I beg your pardon, monsieur," observed Monsieur de MaugrillÉ; "but, as I, for my part, insist that everything shall be done in accordance with the established etiquette of duels, I will tell your seconds, and no one else."

"Tell my concierge, if you choose; it makes confounded little difference to me, after all."

"What does that tone mean, monsieur?"

"It means that you make me very weary with all your nonsense; and if you're not satisfied with the tone I adopt, why, I'll give you satisfaction as soon as I have done with the count; or before, if you choose."

"Monsieur!"

The discussion was on the verge of ending in a quarrel, when the Auvergnat, seeing that things seemed to be approaching a crisis, shouted in stentorian tones:

"Very well, fouchtra! very well! We agree, I say!"

This outburst was delivered in such unique fashion by the water-carrier, that the younger of the count's seconds roared with laughter again, and Cherami himself could not keep a sober face. He turned his back and put his handkerchief to his mouth. The old gentleman alone retained an air of displeasure; but his young companion said to him earnestly:

"Come, Monsieur de MaugrillÉ, let us not have trouble over an affair which really seems to me quite simple.—Monsieur de la BÉriniÈre selects swords; he wishes to fight to-morrow, about nine o'clock, in Vincennes Forest; we will meet at the entrance to the forest, near Porte Saint-MandÉ, on the highroad. Those are our conditions, messieurs; are they satisfactory to you?"

Then or never was the time for the water-carrier to repeat the phrase he had been taught; but, just as it frequently happens on the stage, that, when an actor has begun his lines too soon, he is silent when he ought to speak, so did the Auvergnat look stolidly at the others and utter never a word.

Cherami, who was gazing at him impatiently, at last walked up behind him and struck him in the side, crying:

"Well, Monsieur de Saint-Michel, have you suddenly lost your voice?"

"Ah! bless my soul! what was I thinking about?—Very well, very well! We agree to everything," said the water-carrier.

Thereupon the young man took his companion's arm and led him from the room, laughing still, and saying in his ear:

"I think that we may retire, now that everything is settled."

Cherami saluted them, and escorted them to the door.

"Be sure, monsieur," he said, "that we shall be on hand promptly at the rendezvous; we shall not keep you waiting. By the way! it will be very kind of you to bring swords for both, for I broke mine recently and have not yet replaced it."

"Very good, monsieur; we will do so."

The younger man bowed with much affability; his older associate bent his head almost imperceptibly, retaining his ill-humored expression; then they left the house and returned to their carriage.