At another time on leaving their apartments, Beaumarchais was intercepted by a crowd of youthful noblemen one of whom had wagered to cover him with confusion. Approaching him, the nobleman said,—to quote from Gudin, “‘Monsieur, you who are so clever with watches, will you tell me if this is a good one?’
“‘Monsieur,’ replied Beaumarchais, looking at the company, ‘since I have ceased to work at that trade I have become very awkward.’
“‘Ah, Monsieur, do not refuse me.’
“‘Very well, but I warn you that I have lost my art.’
Then taking the watch he opened it, raised it in the air feigning to examine it, and suddenly let it fall from that elevation; then, making a profound reverence, he said, ‘I warned you, Monsieur, of my extreme awkwardness,’ and walked away leaving his provoker to gather up the debris of his watch while the assembly burst into laughter.”
But the insults did not stop here.
They became so frequent and their tone grew so malignant that Beaumarchais felt the time had come to put a stop to them. Seriously outraged by a courtier whom Gudin calls the Chevalier du C—— he accepted the provocation.
They mounted their horses and rode off to a secluded spot in the woods behind Meudon. In the words of Gudin, “Beaumarchais had the sad advantage of plunging his sword into the bosom of his adversary; but when on withdrawing it he saw the blood issue in a copious stream he was seized with terror and thought of nothing but helping him. He took his handkerchief and attached it as well as he could over the wound, to arrest the flow of blood and to stop fainting.
“‘Save yourself,’ said the fallen man, ‘you are lost if any one sees you, if any one learns that it is you who have taken my life.’
“‘You must have help, I will get it for you’—Beaumarchais mounted and rode to Meudon, found a surgeon, and indicating the spot to him, where the wounded man lay, he went off at full gallop to Paris to see what was to be done. His first care was to inform himself if the Chevalier du C—— still lived. He found that he had been brought to Paris but that his life was despaired of—he learned that the sick man refused to name the one who had wounded him so seriously.