"'Three.'
"It had been arranged that we should fire between the words 'One' and 'Three;' and as the word 'Two' was on the lips of the second, I fired.
"'Oh, mon Dieu!' cried my opponent, falling bleeding into the arms of his second, as the bullet from his pistol almost grazed my cheek.
"'Parbleu! He is dying—shot through the heart. You are a surgeon; can you do anything for him?' said I, appealing to my friend, the Doctor.
"'No, my lad,' said he; 'you aimed too low.'
"'This is terrible,' I cried, now for the first time realizing the awful position in which I was placed. 'What can we do?'
"'Get across the frontier as soon as possible,' was the advice of the old Frenchman's second.
"'Our ship sails at noon,' said the Doctor.
"I advanced to the dying man, whose life-blood was pouring from his side, and with tears streaming down my face, begged his forgiveness. He opened his poor, sad eyes, now almost glazed in death.
"'Oh, speak to me!' cried I, 'if only one word. I would give the world to recall this wicked duel. Is there anything on earth that I can do for you or yours? Tell me, and on the honor of an English gentleman, I will do as you command.'