Septmonts—I have just come from your house, Mr. Clarkson. Mrs. Clarkson told me you were here. I returned at once. Pardon me for troubling you. If when I came in I asked you to come to my own drawing-room, and have thus troubled you once more, it is because I was told you were expecting me here, with the duchess. This is her private parlor; and as what we have to say is a matter for men—
Clarkson—Therefore the duchess went to her own room when your return here was announced.
Septmonts—Mr. Clarkson, did she tell the servant that you would prefer to hold our conversation here?
Clarkson—No, I told him.
[Septmonts goes to the door of the room by which Catherine went out, and closes the portière.]
Clarkson [in a scornful aside]—What an amount of mystery and precaution!
Septmonts—The matter is this, Mr. Clarkson. I must fight a duel to-morrow morning. This duel can terminate only in the death of one or other of the contestants. I am the insulted one, therefore I have the choice of weapons. I choose the sword.
Clarkson—Do you fence well?
Septmonts—I believe I am one of the best fencers in Paris. But another friend on whom I could count is one of those men of the world who discuss all the details of an affair, and with whom the preliminaries of such a meeting might last several days. I want to get through with the matter at once.
Clarkson—Ah! The fact is, you do give an importance and a solemnity to such things in France that we don't understand, we Americans, who settle the question in five minutes on the first corner of the street, in the sight of everybody.