But this day was an unlucky one for the poor journalist, for, just as he was about to turn the key, he saw coming towards him another young man, who, in his agitation, appeared to him like a perfect Hercules. He would have retreated, but he was now between two fires, as his first opponent had by this time discovered him, and was advancing upon him.
“Monsieur, let me pass, if you please,” said Reteau to the young man who guarded the gate.
“Monsieur,” cried the one who followed him, “stop the fellow, I beg!”
“Do not be afraid, M. de Charny; he shall not pass.”
“M. de Taverney!” cried Charny; for it was really he who was the first comer.
Both these young men, on reading the article that morning, had conceived the same idea, because they were animated with the same sentiments, and, unknown to each other, had hastened to put it in practise. Each, however, felt a kind of displeasure at seeing the other, divining a rival in the man who had the same idea as himself. Thus it was that with a rather disturbed manner Charny had called out, “You, M. de Taverney!”
“Even so,” replied the other, in the same way; “but it seems I am come too late, and can only look on, unless you will be kind enough to open the gate.”
“Oh!” cried Reteau, “do you want to murder me, gentlemen?”
“No,” said Charny, “we do not want to murder you; but first we will ask a few questions, then we will see the end. You permit me to speak, M. de Taverney?”
“Certainly, sir; you have the precedence, having arrived first.”