“I have said that it was made to appear a duel. There is a distinction, as I shall show, if you will condescend to hear me out.”
“Take your own time, sir!” said the ironical M. de Lesdiguieres, whose tenure of office had never yet held anything that remotely resembled this experience.
Andre-Louis took him literally. “I thank you, sir,” he answered, solemnly, and submitted his argument. “It can be shown that M. de Vilmorin never practised fencing in all his life, and it is notorious that M. de La Tour d’Azyr is an exceptional swordsman. Is it a duel, monsieur, where one of the combatants alone is armed? For it amounts to that on a comparison of their measures of respective skill.”
“There has scarcely been a duel fought on which the same trumpery argument might not be advanced.”
“But not always with equal justice. And in one case, at least, it was advanced successfully.”
“Successfully? When was that?”
“Ten years ago, in Dauphiny. I refer to the case of M. de Gesvres, a gentleman of that province, who forced a duel upon M. de la Roche Jeannine, and killed him. M. de Jeannine was a member of a powerful family, which exerted itself to obtain justice. It put forward just such arguments as now obtain against M. de La Tour d’Azyr. As you will remember, the judges held that the provocation had proceeded of intent from M. de Gesvres; they found him guilty of premeditated murder, and he was hanged.”
M. de Lesdiguieres exploded yet again. “Death of my life!” he cried. “Have you the effrontery to suggest that M. de La Tour d’Azyr should be hanged? Have you?”
“But why not, monsieur, if it is the law, and there is precedent for it, as I have shown you, and if it can be established that what I state is the truth—as established it can be without difficulty?”
“Do you ask me, why not? Have you temerity to ask me that?”