The Luck of Barry Lyndon William Makepeace Thackeray (portable ebook reader .TXT) 📖

it, on which she started up with a scream. “Thank God,” said she, “It’s fallen towards me.” And then, her heart being too full, she left the room. Ah! they have their faults, those mothers; but are there any other women like them?

When she was gone I went to take down the sword with which my father had vanquished the Hampshire baronet, and, would you believe it?⁠—the brave woman had tied a new riband to the hilt: for indeed she had the courage of a lioness and a Brady united. And then I took down the pistols, which were always kept bright and well oiled, and put some fresh flints I had into the locks, and got balls and powder ready against the Captain should come. There was claret and a cold fowl put ready for him on the sideboard, and a case-bottle of old brandy too, with a couple of little glasses on the silver tray with the Barry arms emblazoned. In after life, and in the midst of my fortune and splendour, I paid thirty-five guineas, and almost as much more interest, to the London goldsmith who supplied my father with that very tray. A scoundrel pawnbroker would only give me sixteen for it afterwards; so little can we trust the honour of rascally tradesmen!

At eleven o’clock Captain Fagan arrived, on horseback, with a mounted dragoon after him. He paid his compliments to the collation which my mother’s care had provided for him, and then said, “Look ye, Redmond my boy; this is a silly business. The girl will marry Quin, mark my words; and as sure as she does you’ll forget her. You are but a boy. Quin is willing to consider you as such. Dublin’s a fine place, and if you have a mind to take a ride thither and see the town for a month, here are twenty guineas at your service. Make Quin an apology, and be off.”

“A man of honour, Mr. Fagan,” says I, “dies, but never apologises. I’ll see the Captain hanged before I apologise.”

“Then there’s nothing for it but a meeting.”

“My mare is saddled and ready,” says I; “where’s the meeting, and who’s the Captain’s second?”

“Your cousins go out with him,” answered Mr. Fagan.

“I’ll ring for my groom to bring my mare round,” I said, “as soon as you have rested yourself.” Tim was accordingly despatched for Nora, and I rode away, but I didn’t take leave of Mrs. Barry. The curtains of her bedroom windows were down, and they didn’t move as we mounted and trotted off⁠ ⁠… but two hours afterwards, you should have seen her as she came tottering downstairs, and heard the scream which she gave as she hugged her boy to her heart, quite unharmed and without a wound in his body.

What had taken place I may as well tell here. When we got to the ground, Ulick, Mick, and the Captain were already there: Quin, flaming in red regimentals, as big a monster as ever led a grenadier company. The party were laughing together at some joke of one or the other: and I must say I thought this laughter very unbecoming in my cousins, who were met, perhaps, to see the death of one of their kindred.

“I hope to spoil this sport,” says I to Captain Fagan, in a great rage, “and trust to see this sword of mine in yonder big bully’s body.”

“Oh! it’s with pistols we fight,” replied Mr. Fagan. “You are no match for Quin with the sword.”

“I’ll match any man with the sword,” said I.

“But swords are today impossible; Captain Quin is⁠—is lame. He knocked his knee against the swinging park-gate last night, as he was riding home, and can scarce move it now.”

“Not against Castle Brady gate,” says I: “that has been off the hinges these ten years.” On which Fagan said it must have been some other gate, and repeated what he had said to Mr. Quin and my cousins, when, on alighting from our horses, we joined and saluted those gentlemen.

“Oh yes! dead lame,” said Ulick, coming to shake me by the hand, while Captain Quin took off his hat and turned extremely red. “And very lucky for you, Redmond my boy,” continued Ulick; “you were a dead man else; for he is a devil of a fellow⁠—isn’t he, Fagan?”

“A regular Turk,” answered Fagan; adding, “I never yet knew the man who stood to Captain Quin.”

“Hang the business!” said Ulick; “I hate it. I’m ashamed of it. Say you’re sorry, Redmond: you can easily say that.”

“If the young feller will go to Dubling, as proposed”⁠—here interposed Mr. Quin.

“I am not sorry⁠—I’ll not apologise⁠—and I’ll as soon go to Dubling as to⁠—!” said I, with a stamp of my foot.

“There’s nothing else for it,” said Ulick with a laugh to Fagan. “Take your ground, Fagan⁠—twelve paces, I suppose?”

“Ten, sir,” said Mr. Quin, in a big voice; “and make them short ones, do you hear, Captain Fagan?”

“Don’t bully, Mr. Quin,” said Ulick surlily; “here are the pistols.” And he added, with some emotion, to me, “God bless you, my boy; and when I count three, fire.”

Mr. Fagan put my pistol into my hand⁠—that is, not one of mine (which were to serve, if need were, for the next round), but one of Ulick’s. “They are all right,” said he. “Never fear: and, Redmond, fire at his neck⁠—hit him there under the gorget. See how the fool shows himself open.” Mick, who had never spoken a word, Ulick, and the Captain retired to one side, and Ulick gave the signal. It was slowly given, and I had leisure to cover my man well. I saw him changing colour and trembling as the numbers were given. At “three,” both our pistols went off. I heard something whizz by me, and my antagonist, giving a most horrible groan, staggered backwards and fell.

“He’s down⁠—he’s down!” cried the seconds, running towards him. Ulick lifted him up⁠—Mick took his head.

“He’s hit here, in the neck,” said Mick; and laying open his coat, blood was seen