180 THE MASTER OP THE HOUNDS. 



claim on Monsieur Vernon ; and I tink it vara likely he find 

 me von too ranch j for 1 will have his life, or he must have 

 mine, before we leave dis house." 



The owner of the rooms now interfered, declaring no duel 

 should take place there ; an arrangement was therefore made 

 for the hostile meeting in the Bois de Boulogne on the following 

 morning, at an early hour : a young Irishman, named Fitzgerald, 

 who was slightly known to Vernon, volunteering to act as his 

 second. He made the necessary preparations of pistols, and 

 engaged a friend of his own, a native of the Emerald Isle also, 

 then practising as a surgeon in Paris, to attend, in case of 

 accident to his principal. 



About eight o'clock the next morning, which was dull and 

 gloomy as the thoughts of Vernon, who, from his antagonist's 

 hatred and well-known skill, dreaded a fatal issue to the combat, 

 a carriage, containing himself, the surgeon^ and Mr. Fitzgerald, 

 drove rapidly up to the appointed place. The Count was on 

 the ground before them, impatient to take vengeance on his 

 adversary ; but Fitzgerald, although, like the generality of his 

 countrymen, as ready for a fray as a feast, knowing the Count's 

 deadly aim, felt it incumbent on him to make some show 

 at least of attempting to save the effusion of blood or loss 

 of life ; and, accordingly, asked the Count's second if a 

 reconciliation could be effected. The offer was received with 

 derision, which roused the Irishman's choler in an instant, who 

 replied — 



"I should ask that for another, sir, which I would not 

 accept for myself; and I wish all here to remember that my 

 overtures for a settlement have been rejected." 



"Place your man, sir," was the reply. "We mean fighting, 

 not talking." 



"Without another word, the ground being measured, the 

 pistols were delivered by their seconds into the hands of the 

 Count and Vernon, who stood fiercely surveying each other, 

 the face of the latter being pale as death ; but, knowing his life 

 depended on a steady hand, by a violent effort he stifled every 

 other thought, and awaited the signal. The intense, agonising 

 suspense of such a moment, to a thinking mind, who can 

 describe ? Men rush into battle, facing death in every shape, 

 even to the cannon's mouth ; balls whistle round their heads, 

 comrades fall beside them, wounded, disfigured, dying, dead ; 

 hand to hand, with flashing, bloody sword, the strife continues 

 — no thought of fear or flinching for a moment <;rosses the 



