So at the risk of being thought indifferent, or even ungrateful, I kept silence, and I was sure that the Baron Giordano had done as much.
Five days after the duel, at about eleven o’clock in the evening, I was seated by my table in a rather melancholy frame of mind, when my servant entered and shutting the door quickly behind him said, in an agitated whisper, that M. de Franchi desired to speak with me.
I looked at him steadily; he was quite pale.
“Whom did you say, Victor?” I asked.
“Oh, monsieur, in truth I hardly know myself.”
“What M. de Franchi wishes to speak to me?”
“Monsieur’s friend. The gentleman who was here two or three times.”
“You are mad, my good man. Do you not know that I had the misfortune to lose my friend five days ago?”
“Yes, sir; and that is the reason I am so upset. He rang, I was in the ante-chamber, and opened the door, but recoiled at his appearance. However, he entered, and asked if you were at home. I replied that you were, and then he said, ‘Go and announce M. de Franchi, who wishes to speak with your master,’ and so I came.”
“You are stupid, Victor, the ante-chamber is not properly lighted. You were asleep, no doubt, and did not hear correctly. Go, and ask the gentleman his name.”