About three-quarters of an hour after the combatants had quitted the Bois du VÉsinet, two gendarmes arrived in the Avenue de la Grotte. They looked about them for a moment, and their attitude betokened disappointment.

“We have arrived too late,” said one.

“I doubt it,” rejoined the other.

“Good gentlemen, charity, if you please; for the love of God and the Holy Virgin, a little charity, if you please,” murmured a dolorous voice.

“Brigadier, suppose we seek information of the beggar.”

“It is our duty to push our inquiries to the furthest limit.”

“That is also my way of doing business, if I may say so without offence to you.”

“Ho! woman!” cried the first officer, addressing an old woman as wrinkled as a dried pear, “didn’t you see two men pass this way?”

“I could not see any such persons,” responded the beggar, “because I could not see any thing, having been blind for now twenty years; for twenty years I have been deprived of the light of heaven.”

“Ah! that alters the case.”

“I have not seen them; but, my good sir, I certainly heard them.”

“Then they have gone this way?”

“They have gone and returned. By this time they ought to be in Paris, for they arrived in time for the train.”

The gendarmes expressed their disappointment in the phraseology peculiar to their calling.

“My good woman,” said one, “you can perhaps give us some information. Speak without fear.”

The gendarme spoke majestically, as the representative of the law.

“There were seven in the party of young gentlemen,—three on one side and four on the other.”

“How do you know there were seven?” inquired the officer.

“Because they stopped to give me a little charity. Five gave me something. Of the two others, one said, ‘I have no money,’ and the other, ‘I am not superstitious.’”

“How do you know they were young?”

“Because they walked quickly; and, you see, when one is old, one is not in a hurry to die.”

“How? to die?”

“Yes; since they came to fight.”

“Who told you that?”

“I learned that from their alms. Four of them gave me twenty sous each. They supposed that bit of charity would bring good luck to their friends. The fifth, a fine young man, who was going to fight, gave me a five-franc piece. One is generous when one is either very unfortunate or very fortunate, when one weeps or when one laughs. The sixth said, ‘I have no money:’ he was the surgeon. The doctors never give any thing to beggars, because it is of no importance to them whether we live or die. The seventh said, ‘It is a superstition:’ he is the one who committed the wrong.”

“Of course,” said one of the gendarmes, laughing, “you think the one who gave you the five-franc piece was in the right. I understand that.”

“You do not understand it at all, my dear sir, I can assure you. I understand it, I do. I have seen so many persons pass here on their way to fight. Those who have not the right on their side never give any thing, not on account of their avarice, but because they know very well that it is not with a hundred sous they can turn aside the hand of God.”

“Well?”

“They did not go very far into the woods, for they did not remain more than ten minutes. They fought with swords, for I did not hear any pistol-shots. They returned, without either party being badly wounded.”

“Until now, your sagacity has not been at fault,” said one of the officers. “But how do you know that the wound was slight?”

“Ah, my son, I am quite certain of what I tell you. If the wound had been dangerous, they would have given me much greater alms upon their return.”