“Of course. And still more to guard against suspicion and interruption, Prince Ernest and his attendants start as if for a journey, make a slight detour, and approach the place of meeting from another direction,” answered Francis.
The morning was fresh and bright. The sun was, perhaps, an hour high when Alexander Lyon and Francis Tredegar entered their carriage. Simms, the valet, mounted the box and seated himself beside the coachman. And in this manner they were driven out towards Noirmont Heights.
When they arrived at the foot of the mountain, Francis Tredegar ordered the carriage to draw up.
“Give me that box of tools, Simms. We shall find some valuable specimens of sienites on the other side of the mountain,” said Francis Tredegar, in a rather loud voice intended to be heard by the coachman, as the party alighted from the carriage.
“Wait for us here. We may be gone some hours, but don’t leave the spot,” he added, as he led the way, followed by Alexander and his servant, around a projecting rock, to a retired spot, shut off from observation by surrounding precipices.
As they entered the place at one end, Prince Ernest and his party were seen to come in at the other.
Each adversary, with his attendants, paused.
The prince was attended by his second, his surgeon and his servant.
Alexander had only his friend and his valet.
Major Zollenhoffar and Mr. Tredegar drew out from their respective groups, and met in the center of the ground. There, for the last time, they conferred upon the possibility of an amicable settlement of the difficulty. But the impracticability of reconciling the adversaries consisted in this—that each of the adversaries deemed himself the injured, insulted, outraged party, who was entitled to an humble apology from the other, or in want of that the “satisfaction of a gentleman”—which usually means an ounce of lead in his body or fellow-creature’s blood upon his soul. Each was willing to receive an apology, instead of a bullet; but neither would hear of making the slightest concession.