‘“Monsieur van Halsdt! he never offended me; I never insulted, never injured him,” said Edward, trembling at every word.
‘“Never injured me!” cried Van Halsdt. “Is it nothing that you have ruined me for ever; that your cowardice to resent an affront offered to one who should have been dearer than your life, a hundred times told, should have involved me in a duel with a man I swore never to meet, never to cross swords nor exchange a shot with? Is it nothing that I am to be disgraced by my king, disinherited by my father—a beggar and an exile at once? Is it nothing, sir, that the oldest name of Friesland is to be blotted from the nobles of his nation? Is it nothing that for you I should be what I now am?”
‘The last words were uttered in a voice that made Norvins, very blood run cold; but he could not speak, he could not mutter a word in answer.
‘“What!” said Van Halsdt, in an accent of cutting sarcasm, “I thought that perhaps in the suddenness of the moment your courage, unprepared for an unexpected call, might not have stood your part; but can it be true that you are a coward? Is this the case?”
‘Norvins hung down his head; the sickness of death was on him. The dreadful pause was broken at last; it was Van Halsdt who spoke—
‘“Adieu, sir; I grieve for you. I hope we may never meet again; yet let me give you a counsel ere we part. There is but one coat men can wear with impunity when they carry a malevolent and a craven spirit; you can be a———“’
‘Monsieur l’Abbé, the dinner is on the table,’ said a servant, entering at this moment of the story.
‘Ma foi, and so it is,’ said he, looking gaily at his watch, as he rose from his chair.
‘But mademoiselle,’ said I, ‘what became of her?’
‘Ah, Marguerite: she was married to Van Halsdt in less than three months. The cuirassier fortunately recovered from his wounds; the duel was shown to be a thing forced by the stress of consequences. As for Van Halsdt, the king forgave him, and he is now ambassador at Naples.’