“Danvers,” said the latter, “the time in which I told you I should need your services is near at hand; let me see you, if possible, to-night.”
“Certainly—I shall be, at the House till eleven. After that hour you will find me at home.”
“I thank you.”
“Cannot this matter be arranged amicably?”
“No, it is a quarrel of life and death.”
“Yet the world is really growing too enlightened for these old mimicries of single combat.”
“There are some cases in which human nature and its deep wrongs will be ever stronger than the world and its philosophy. Duels and wars belong to the same principle; both are sinful on light grounds and poor pretexts. But it is not sinful for a soldier to defend his country from invasion, nor for man, with a man’s heart, to vindicate truth and honour with his life. The robber that asks me for money I am allowed to shoot. Is the robber that tears from me treasures never to be replaced, to go free? These are the inconsistencies of a pseudo-ethics, which, as long as we are made of flesh and blood, we can never subscribe to.”
“Yet the ancients,” said Danvers, with a smile, “were as passionate as ourselves, and they dispensed with duels.”
“Yes, because they resorted to assassination!” answered Maltravers, with a gloomy frown. “As in revolutions all law is suspended, so are there stormy events and mighty injuries in life which are as revolutions to individuals. Enough of this—it is no time to argue like the schoolmen. When we meet you shall know all, and you will judge like me. Good day!”
“What, are you going already? Maltravers, you look ill, your hand is feverish—you should take advice.”