De Coigny looked at his watch and nodded.
"By the way," I heard Champfleury say to one of my adversary's seconds, "has anyone seen anything of M. le Baron Carl von Lichtenberg during the last three months?"
"I have not," replied the gentleman addressed, "nor have I met anyone who has. The Prussian Embassy people do not know anything of his whereabouts: he has had leave of absence."
"Rest assured," said De Coigny, "he will arrive. He is not a coward."
"All the same, he is late," said De Brissac.
I looked at my watch. It was now ten minutes past seven, an inexcusable delay on Von Lichtenberg's part, unless, indeed, some accident had occurred.
Five more minutes slowly passed; the sun had now completely freed himself from the mists of the Bois; the light struck down the path; it struck the mahogany instrument-case under the arm of Dr. Pons, and the hilts of the rapiers which De Brissac was carrying concealed in the folds of a long, fawn-coloured overcoat.
"At twenty minutes past," said De Brissac, "I shall declare the duel postponed. I shall take my principal home and I shall demand an explanation, M. de Coigny."
Scarcely had he spoken than Dr. Pons, who had been looking along the drive in the direction of the Champs Elysées, cried: "Here he comes."
A closed carriage, drawn by two magnificent Orloff horses, had entered the broad drive and was advancing at full speed. I do not know how the weird impression came to me, but the closed carriage drawn by the black Russian horses suggested to me a funeral-carriage; and before it, as it came, the sunlight seemed to wither from the drive.