“I shall certainly do my best to provide you with a grave in Brandenburg’s sand. In seeking to make me the agent of an infamous deed you have offered an insult not to be passed over by an English gentleman. You will have to defend your conduct with the sword.”
There was a very palpable start on the part of Baranoff, and his face paled. Though well versed in the art of fencing he durst not measure swords with the man who, inside of three minutes, had transfixed the Abbé Spada, the champion duellist of France.
He sought to shield himself behind the privileges of his high offices.
“It would be contrary to etiquette,” he remarked loftily, “for a chargé d’affaires to accept a challenge. My imperial master would never forgive me for putting my life to the hazard of a duel while engaged in conducting a diplomatic mission, otherwise——”
“Now you are talking nonsense,” interrupted Wilfrid, bluntly. “The Czar loves a duel, for only a few weeks ago he invited all the sovereigns of Europe to his Court to settle their international disputes by single combat.”
And Baranoff, well knowing that the eccentric Czar had so acted, felt himself deprived of his argument.
“Fight me you must! I will force you.”
“Force me? indeed!” said the Count. “In what way?”
“By publicly branding you as a coward; by putting affronts upon you in every assembly you frequent. For example, if you are among men I shall walk up to you with a pair of scissors, and after asking, ‘Why do these Muscovites wear their beards so long?’ I shall proceed to clip yours. If you are sitting with ladies I shall relate in their hearing and in yours the story of how you propose to deal with one of their sex. It may be that through fear of me you will keep within your hotel, in which case I shall have to affix a notice at the chief entrance, stating the reason of your enforced seclusion! In short, sir, I shall make your life at Berlin so abominably unpleasant that for very shame you will have to fight. There must be a meeting unless you wish to see the name of Baranoff turned into a byword for a coward.”
The Count listened with secret consternation, feeling certain that this obstinate pig of an Englishman would keep his word. A man who had not shrunk from defying the First Consul to his face was not likely to pay much respect to the status of a diplomatic envoy.