He wished to breakfast but he could not eat. Then the idea came to him of drinking to give himself courage and he brought out a small bottle of rum, which he swallowed in six little glasses, one after the other.
A heat, like that of a burning fire, invaded him, followed almost immediately by a numbness of the soul. He thought:
“I have found the remedy. Now all goes well.”
But at the end of an hour, he had emptied the bottle and his state of agitation became intolerable. He felt a foolish impulse to roll on the ground, to cry out and bite. Then night fell.
A stroke of the bell gave him such a shock that he had not sufficient strength left to rise and receive his witnesses. He dared not even speak to them to say “Good evening,” to pronounce a single word, for fear that they would discover a change in his voice.
The Colonel announced:
“All is arranged according to the conditions that you have fixed upon. Your adversary claimed the privileges of the offended, but he soon yielded and accepted all. His witnesses are two military men.”
The Viscount pronounced the word:
“Thanks.”
The Marquis continued: