“I'm no saint. I'm just an average American businessman—very human, very foolish! But there are many who would do more than I have done for the love of a friend. My father was such a man.”
Gwendolyn came and kissed me when I bade them good night, and I drew her aside and said to her:
“With such men in America why are we looking for counts in Italy?”
She made no answer, but I understood the little squeeze of gratitude which my hand felt.
XIII.—IN WHICH I FIGHT A DUEL WITH ONE OF THE OLDEST WEAPONS IN THE WORLD
NEXT morning a note came to Betsey from Mrs. Norris saying that she and Gwendolyn had decided to spend the whole day at home with their patient, and would, therefore, be unable to ride out as they had planned to do. She inclosed another letter of dog-like servility from the slim count and asked me to see what I could do to suppress him. In this letter he referred to me as a vulgar fellow who had disregarded his challenge. This she did not understand, and rightly thought that I would know what he meant.
So I was reminded that the pitchforks and the time to use them had arrived. I informed De Langueville of the fact. He invited me to call at his studio at noon, and added that he hoped it would be convenient to bring the forks with me. I sent Betsey out shopping and 'phoned for Richard, and when he came to my room I met him with one of those weapons in my hands.
“I am ready for the stern arbitrament of the pitchfork,” I said. “Will you come with me?”