There was nothing to be said if the two adversaries were agreed. The five paces were reduced to three. Then two sabres were laid on the ground to mark the limit. Sir John and Roland took their places, standing so that their toes touched the sabres. A pistol was then handed to each of them.
They bowed to say that they were ready. The two seconds stepped aside. They were to give the signal by clapping their hands three times. At the first clap the principals were to cock their pistols; at the second to take aim; at the third to fire.
The three claps were given at regular intervals amid the most profound silence; the wind itself seemed to pause and the rustle of the trees was hushed. The principals were calm, but the seconds were visibly distressed.
At the third clap two shots rang out so simultaneously that they seemed but one. But to the utter astonishment of the seconds the combatants remained standing. At the signal Roland had lowered his pistol and fired into the ground. Sir John had raised his and cut the branch of a tree three feet behind Roland. Each was clearly amazed—amazed that he himself was still living, after having spared his antagonist.
Roland was the first to speak.
“Ah!” he cried, “my sister was right in saying that you were the most generous man on earth.”
And throwing his pistol aside he opened his arms to Sir John, who rushed into them.
“Ah! I understand,” he said. “You wanted to die; but, God be thanked, I am not your murderer.”
The two seconds came up.
“What is the matter?” they asked together.