"Right!" answered the Guards.
The following morning, just as Denoisel was starting with Dardouillet to call on M. Boisjorand de Villacourt, his door-bell rang and the two Guards entered. As their mission was to accept everything, terms, weapons, and distances, the arrangements for the duel were soon made. Pistols were decided upon at a distance of thirty-five paces, both adversaries to be allowed to walk ten paces. Denoisel requested, in Henri's name, that the affair should be got over as quickly as possible. This was precisely what M. de Villacourt's seconds were about to ask, as they were supposed to be going to the theatre that evening, and were only free that day until midnight. A meeting was fixed for four o'clock at the Ville-d'Avray Lake. Denoisel next went to one of his friends who was a surgeon, and then to order a carriage for bringing home the wounded man. He called to see Henri, who was out; then went on to the shooting-gallery, where he found him, amusing himself with shooting at small bundles of matches hanging from a piece of string, at which he fired, setting the brimstone alight with the bullet.
"Oh, that's nothing!" he said to Denoisel; "I fancy those matches get set on fire with the wind from the bullet; but look here!" and he showed him a cardboard target, in the first ring of which he had just put a dozen bullets.
"It's to be to-day at four, as you wished," said Denoisel.
"Good!" said Henri, giving his pistol to the man. "Look here," he continued, putting his fingers over two holes on the cardboard which were rather far away from the others; "if it were not for these two flukes this would be fit to frame. Oh, I'm glad it's arranged for to-day." He lifted his arm with the gesture of a man accustomed to shooting and just about to take aim, and then shook his hand about to get the blood into it again.
"Only imagine," he continued, "that it had quite an effect on me—the idea of this affair—when I was in bed this morning. It's that deuced horizontal position; I don't fancy it's good for one's courage."
They all lunched together at Denoisel's and then proceeded to smoke. Henri was cheerful and communicative, talking all the time. The surgeon arrived at the hour appointed, and they all four got into the carriage and drove off.
They had been silent until they were about half way, when Henri suddenly threw his cigar out of the window impatiently.
"Give me a cigar, Denoisel, a good one. It's very important to have a good cigar when you are going to shoot, you know. If you are to shoot properly you mustn't be nervous; that's the principal thing. I took a bath this morning. One must keep calm. Now, driving is the most detestable thing; the reins saw your hand for you. I'd wager you couldn't shoot straight after driving; your fingers would be stiff. Novels are absurd with their duels, where the man arrives and flings his reins to his groom. What should you think if I told you that one ought to go in for a sort of training? It's quite true, though. I never knew such a good shot as an Englishman I once met; he goes to bed at eight o'clock; never drinks stimulants and takes a short walk every evening like my father does. Every time that I have driven in a carriage without springs to the shooting-gallery, my targets have shown it. By-the-bye, this is a very decent carriage, Denoisel. Well, with a cigar it's the same thing. Now a cigar that's difficult to smoke keeps you at work, you have to keep lifting your hand to your mouth, and that makes your hand unsteady; while a good cigar—you ask any good shot, and he'll tell you the same thing—it's soothing, it puts your nerves in order. There's nothing better than the gentle movement of the arm as you take the cigar out of your mouth and put it in again. It's slow and regular."