"That's true," returned Didier. "But you are so good that I am certain you will forgive me."
He sat down and, leaning with his elbows on the table, placed his hands before his face as if to shut out the vision of her for the last time. When he looked up again she was gone.
Then he began to write. His letter was a confession and a testament; one long wail of sorrow and love.
At daybreak, when d'Haumont entered the forest, Count de Gorbio and the four seconds whom he had undertaken to obtain were already waiting for him and he had the sensation of being face to face with a firing-party.
Those four men—the seconds—wore an ominous look, as if they knew that they were about to engage in an ugly business. The duel was occurring in such peculiar circumstances that de Gorbio must have had some difficulty in finding accomplices. It was not a pleasant sight for any one, except a German, to see a man shoot down a Captain in the French army, wounded in the war and not a little famous on account of his deeds. Count de Gorbio must have had to pay them a good price to induce them to act as seconds.
Nevertheless, the seconds, anticipating some future unpleasantness, were anxious that the duel should be fought strictly in accordance with the rules. They expressed regret that d'Haumont had not brought a case of pistols with him, but as he accepted, without demur, the pistols belonging to his opponent, they decided to go on. Captain d'Haumont's seconds took the greatest care to see that the weapons were properly loaded. They drew lots and fate decreed that one of his seconds should take charge of the combat, and he offered the Captain a few words of advice.
It was obvious that he was quite in his element. He turned down the thin line of white collar which could be seen above the blue of d'Haumont's jacket. He counselled him to stand sideways under cover of his right arm, and to bend it over his chest so that it might serve as a shield; and to fire standing in that position when the command was given, so that Count de Gorbio would not have time to take aim between the words, "One, two, three, and fire!" Of course, such precipitation would mean that he would be firing a little at random, but it was his only chance of saving his life, for there was no use hiding the fact that if Count de Gorbio were given time to take aim d'Haumont would be a dead man.
The second did not express in so many words an opinion which was shared by every one else, but he clearly hinted as much.
The seconds counted the paces. The adversaries were placed face to face. After the usual preliminaries, the word of command, "Fire!" rang out. Captain d'Haumont did not display any undue haste, but gave Count de Gorbio his full time and fired abstractedly, almost simultaneously with him.
He had recommended his soul to God and thought of Françoise for the last time. He expected to be struck to the ground. What was his stupefaction to see Count de Gorbio turn right round. The Count swayed for a second and then fell his length with his face on the sward. The seconds rushed up, followed by a gentleman whom the Captain had not previously observed, and who, it seemed, was the doctor.