Tallancourt and Betz—The café Hollandais—My Quiroga cloak—First challenge—A lesson in shooting—The eve of my duel—Analysis of my sensations—My opponent fails to keep his appointment—The seconds hunt him out—The duel—Tallancourt and the mad dog
On 3 January 1825, one of our friends, by name Tallancourt, having, by Vatout's solicitations, been promoted from his office, to the Duc d'Orléans' library, he treated me and another of our friends called Betz to a dinner at the Palais-Royal. Both were old soldiers. Tallancourt had fought at Waterloo. After the defeat, he felt in his pockets and found that they were empty, he struck his stomach and felt that it was hollow, therefore, catching sight of a small dismounted cannon, and being endowed with herculean strength, he lifted it upon his shoulder and sold it, two leagues away, to an ironfounder, for ten francs. Thanks to these ten francs, he managed to effect quite a comfortable retreat, and he returned to his native country of Semur, where Vatout got him a berth first in the Duc d'Orléans' offices and finally in the library. After dinner, these gentlemen, who were inveterate smokers, as becomes old soldiers of thirty-two and thirty-five years of age, proposed to adjourn to the café Hollandais to smoke a cigar. I did not wish to desert them, in spite of my aversion to tobacco cafés, and for the first, and I hope I may say for the last time in my life, I crossed the threshold of that famous establishment which is decorated outside with the sign of a ship. I possessed a large cloak, romantically called in those days a Quiroga; I had coveted such a cloak as passionately as I had the famous top-boots, and I had ended by obtaining it with just as much difficulty. Apparently, my mode of dress annoyed one of the habitués who at that moment was playing billiards; he exchanged some words with his antagonist, accompanied by a glance in my direction, and a burst of laughter followed. This was quite sufficient to infuriate me, so I picked up a cue, and mixing up all the balls, I said—
"Who would like to play at billiards with me?"
"But," remonstrated Tallancourt, "the table belongs to those gentlemen."
"Well," said I, looking straight at the player I specially wished to have dealings with, "we will turn these men out, and I will tackle this gentleman"; and I advanced towards him.
The provocation was too gross and too pointed not to raise ire.
Betz and Tallancourt at once sprang to my assistance, for they knew me too well not to be aware that I should not insult anyone in this fashion without good occasion. The chief thing we cared about was that it should not be noised abroad that we had taken part in a miserable café quarrel, so my adversary and I exchanged cards and arranged a meeting for the next day but one, at nine o'clock in the morning, by the café which adjoins the threshold of the big lonely house which stood for a long while in the middle of the place du Carrousel, called the hôtel de Nantes. Of course, Tallancourt and Betz were my seconds, although they were a little uneasy about their commission: first, because I was very young, and it was my first duel; then, because I had just come from the provinces and they did not know whether I knew how to handle the firearms I was about to use. They had arranged with the seconds of my adversary, M. Charles B——, our meeting for the following day at four o'clock in the afternoon, in the garden of the Palais-Royal, opposite the Rotonde, in order to give them more time to coach me.
On leaving the café they asked me to tell them the cause of my quarrel, which I hastened to do; then, as they were commissioned to deal with the question of arms, they asked me which weapon I preferred. I replied that the question of weapons was a matter of indifference to me, and that as I had confided my interests into their hands, it was their affair and not mine. My assurance somewhat eased their minds; but Tallancourt nevertheless insisted I should have some practice, next morning at nine, in Gosset's shooting gallery. I had not put foot in a shooting gallery since I had come to Paris; but my familiarity with M. de Leuven's Kukenreiter cannot have been forgotten, nor my broken slates, and the frogs I shot in two and the pieces of cardboard held in the hand as targets at Ponce's. Tallancourt asked for a dozen bullets.
"Does the gentleman want to shoot à la poupée or à la mouche?" the lad asked me.