Morlay-La-Branche and Albert bowed to each other and got
ready.
The little bowers, where the _habitues_ of the inn often ate
their midday meals, served them as dressing-rooms. The Doctor arrived
out of breath, with the information that he had not been able to get a
_confrere_ and would have to serve both sides. The umpire, in
company with the seconds, chose an alley of proper dimensions.
The adversaries were placed opposite, sword in hand. The Duke de
Castel-Montjoie touched the points of their swords and said, "Go!"
The conditions of the duel were very strict. The first round should
last three minutes, should neither of the adversaries be touched.
"Halt!" cried the Duke de Castel-Montjoie.
One minute was allowed them to breathe.
"Go," said the umpire, again joining the sword tips.
This time Albert made a furious drive against the Duke. There was a
moment of suspense. The Duke did not give way. His arm shot out and
the unfortunate Count turned completely round and fell. Charles de
Morlay's sword had pierced beneath the right arm pit, entering the
lung. The blood streamed from the wounded man's mouth. The Doctor and
the seconds carried him into the room which Jeanette had prepared. The
Duke, sorely moved, followed them. Albert saw him and held out a hand
which the Duke pressed gently, bending his head. The Count signed to
the seconds to withdraw.
"I was wrong, Duke," he murmured. "My love had blinded my wisdom with
the heavy mask of egoism.
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