"About a quarter past nine."
"I haven't a minute to lose, for I have a duel this morning at ten! Gad! I must make haste."
"What's that? you are going to fight a duel?" said Tobie, involuntarily recoiling from his friend, and concluding that Albert was aware of Madame Plays's hopes; "why, no, Albert; no, you mustn't fight; it isn't worthwhile—a burlesque duel is all that's necessary."
"What in the devil are you talking about? do you mean to say that you know the cause of my duel with Count Dahlborne?"
"Count Dahlborne? oho! you're going to fight with him, are you?"
"To be sure."
Tobie breathed more freely.
"No, I know nothing about that," he replied, running his hand through his hair; "I got it mixed up with something else. Imagine, if you please, that Madame Plays, whom I met last night, absolutely insists on my fighting with you."
"Oh! as to her, it's a different matter. Poor woman! What answer did you make?"
"I promised to kill you for her."