"It is getting cold," I cried. "Shoot, for God's sake shoot, and end it!"
In reply the Prince fired into the air, took the pistol by the barrel and flung it at my feet. The rest of us looked on dumfounded.
"They are all of the same kidney, Count, these Americans," said he. "They would be dangerous as a nation were it not for their love of money." Then to me: "Go tell your Princess that I have given your life to you."
"The devil take you!" I cried. The strain had been terrible.
"All in good time," retorted the Prince, getting into his coat and furs. "Yesterday morning I had every intention of killing you; this morning it was farthest from my thoughts, though I did hope to see you waver. You are a man of courage. So was your friend. It is to be regretted that we were on different sides. Devil take the women; good morning!"
After the Count had gathered up the pistols, the two walked toward the inn. Pembroke and I followed them at a distance.
"I wonder if he had any idea of what a poor shot you were?" mused
Pembroke. "It was a very good farce."
"I aimed ten feet to the right," said I.
"What?"
"Yes."