The Princess Passes Volume 56 by Alice Muriel Williamson, Charles Norris Williamson (book recommendations .TXT) 📖

Chapter 22 (An American Custom) Pg 159

     "Oh, Have It Your Own Way; I Am Too Old A Hand To Argue

     With Young Gentlemen, . . . I Have Too Much Experience,

     Thank You."--R.L. Stevenson.

 

 

Five Minutes, Ten Minutes Passed, After The Farewells. Then, As I

Sauntered By On The Other Side Of The Way, I Heard The Sound Of A Foot

On Gravel, And Paolo Di Nivoli Appeared Under The Gate Light. There He

Paused, Expecting Me To Cross To Him, But I Allotted Him The Part Of

Mahomet And Selected For Myself That Of The Mountain. Shrugging His

Square Shoulders, He Came Striding Over The Road To Me; And I Had

Scored One Small Victory. I Hoped That I Might Take It For An Omen.

 

"I Do Not Understand The Nature Of This Appointment, Monsieur," Began

The Italian. "I Intended To Send My Friend Captain De Sales To You

To----"

 

"Ah, Yes, That Is The Continental Way In These Little Affairs," I

Ventured To Interrupt Him Coolly. "On Our Side Of The Channel We Are

Rather Ignorant On Such Matters, I Fear. But My Young Friend Mr.

Laurence Is An American."

 

"Do You Mean That He Will Refuse To Fight, After Insulting Me?" Asked

Paolo, Bristling.

 

"Not At All. He Is Very Young, And This Will Be His First Duel. He May

Have Misunderstood Your Intentions. But I Gathered From Him That You

Had Said He Would Have To Fight; That You Then Requested Him To Name

A Friend To Whom You Could Send A Friend Of Yours----"

 

Chapter 22 (An American Custom) Pg 160

"This Is The Fact. There Was No Misunderstanding. He Named You."

 

"Yes; But As I Said, He Is An American."

 

"What Of That, Since He Will Fight?"

 

"As A Duellist Yourself, No Doubt A Successful One, You Must Be Aware

That Such Matters Are Conducted Differently In The States."

 

"I Know Nothing Of That. I Know Only Our Own Ways, Which Are Good

Enough For Me."

 

"But My Friend, Being The Challenged Party, Has The Right, I Believe,

To Choose The Manner Of Duel."

 

"That Will Be Arranged Between You And My Friend, According To The

Choice Of Mr. Laurence."

 

"I Must Ask You To Go Slowly, Just At This Point. In The States, It Is

Against The Duelling Code To Have The Details Arranged By The Friends

Of The Principals. It Is The Principals Themselves Who Do All That,

And For The Best Of Reasons. But As Mr. Laurence Is A Boy, And You Are

A Man, It Is But Right That I Should Speak With You For Him. You

Needn't Send Captain De Sales To Me. We Are Man To Man, And In Ten

Minutes We Can Have Everything Settled With Fairness To Both Parties."

 

"This Is A New Idea, Monsieur, And I Confess It Does Not Commend

Itself To Me," Said Paolo.

 

"I Suppose, However, You Are Anxious To Fight?"

 

"_Sacré Bleu_, But Yes. The Little Jackanapes Called Me A Donkey, And

He Had The Impudence To Allude To My Invention As A 'Balloon,' Adding

That There Was Little To Choose Between It And My Head. _Ciel!_ Do I

Wish To Fight?"

 

"Then, As You Must Grant Him The Privileges Of The Challenged Party,

I Fear There Is Only One Way Of Carrying This Thing Through. He Is

Patriotic To A Fault, And He Will Fight In The American Fashion Or Not

At All. I Must Say This Is To The Credit Of His Courage, As There Is

To Me, An Englishman, Something Appalling About The Method. I Trust

That I'm Not A Coward, Yet It Would Take All My Nerve To Face Such An

Ordeal. No Doubt, However, With The Fiery Latin Races It Is

Different."

 

"I Shall Be Glad Of Your Explanation, Monsieur. What Is This Method Of

Which You Speak?"

 

"There Are Several Small Variations; There Are The Bits Of Paper;

There Are The Matches; There Are The Beans Of Different Size."

 

"I Am More In The Dark Than Ever."

 

Chapter 22 (An American Custom) Pg 161

"My Friend Proposes The Bits Of Paper. Two Are Taken, Exactly

Resembling Each Other, Except In Length. Both Are Placed Inside A

Book, With An End, Say An Inch Long, Sticking Out. You And Mr.

Laurence Draw Simultaneously, That There Can Be No Question Of

Cheating. The One Who Draws The Long Bit Lives--The Other Stands Up To

Be Shot, Without Defending Himself."

 

"_Mon Dieu_, How Horrible! I Would Never Submit To Such A Barbarous

Test. That Is Not A Duel, It Is Murder."

 

I Shrugged My Shoulders As Gracefully, I Flatter Myself, As Paolo

Himself Could Have Done It. But For The Moment Paolo Was In No

Shoulder-Shrugging Mood. His Very Crest--It Seemed To Me--Was

Drooping.

 

"Nevertheless," Said I, "That Is The American Idea Of A Duel, As

Practised In The Best Society. My Friend Is A Member Of The Four

Hundred, And Should It Become Known That He Had Been Killed In An

Old-Fashioned, Butcherly Duel, His Memory Would Be Disgraced."

 

"But What About My Memory?" Demanded Paolo, With Open Palms. "Monsieur

Does Not Appear To Think Of That."

 

"It Was Not On My Mind. I Am Acting For My Friend. You Have Challenged

A Boy, A Mere Child, To Fight You To The Death. He Very Pluckily

Accepts Your Challenge. There Are Those Who Would Think That You Had

Done A Brutal, Even A Cowardly Thing, In Putting A Youth Of Seventeen

Or Eighteen Into Such A Position. Then, Surely Your Most Lenient

Friends Would Say That The Least You Could Do Would Be To Give The

Child His Right Of Choice In Weapons. Very Well; He Chooses Two Bits

Of Paper Of Different Lengths."

 

Paolo Shuddered. "I Will Not Consent," He Said, Swallowing Hard, After

A Moment's Reflection.

 

"Very Well. You Have Had My Friend's Ultimatum. Am I To Tell Him That

This Is Yours?"

 

"It Is Not Fair!" He Exclaimed. "Monsieur Laurence Has His Friend To

Act For Him. As Yet, I Have No One."

 

"He Is Eighteen At Most. You Are--Perhaps Thirty. Still, If You

Insist, I Will See Captain De Sales, Tell Him My Principal's Idea, And

Perhaps He Will Be More Fortunate In Inducing You To Consent----"

 

"No, No," Cried The Italian Quickly. "I Would Not Have Him Or Anyone

Know Of This Monstrous Proposal. I Should Never Hear The End Of It,

And There Would Be A Thousand Versions Of The Story."

 

I Was Not Surprised At This Decision On His Part. Indeed, I Had

Expected It With Confidence.

 

"You Will Not Reconsider?" I Asked Nonchalantly.

Chapter 22 (An American Custom) Pg 162

 

"Jamais De La Vie!"

 

"Then The Duel Is Off."

 

Paolo Swore.

 

I Smiled; But He Did Not See The Smile. I Was Careful That He Should

Not.

 

"I Consider That You And Your Principal Have Taken An Unfair

Advantage."

 

"That Is Between You And Me. If You Care To Raise The Question----"

 

"I Have No Quarrel With You."

 

"Then You And Mr. Laurence Must Treat The Misunderstanding Of This

Evening As If It Had Not Been. This Will Not Be Difficult, As He Will

Go With Me On An Excursion To-Morrow, Now That His--Er--Engagement

With You Is Off; And The Day After, He And I Think Of Leaving Aix

Altogether, By Way Of Mont Revard."

 

This Plan Arranged Itself Spontaneously; But As The Boy Had

Ungallantly Called Gaetà "A Little Cat," And I Was Slightly _Blasé_ Of

Her Dimples, I Thought That I Might Count Upon Its Being Carried Out.

 

"What--He Will Go Away?" Exclaimed Paolo, All At Once A Different Man.

"He Will Leave Aix Altogether, You Say?"

 

"Yes. You See, We Are On Our Way South. Mr. Laurence Merely Wanted A

Glance At Aix _En Route_, And The Contessa Was Kind Enough To Invite

Him To Her House. It Was Really Nice Of Her, As He Is Such A Boy."

 

"You Think So? Yes--Perhaps. Well, I Consent On These Terms To Forget.

You May Tell Your Principal What I Have Said."

 

"I Will," I Returned. "He Will Be Guided By Me, And Forget Also;

Though I Assure You, Like Most Of His Countrymen, He Is A

Fire-Eater--A Fire-Eater."

 

This Time It Was Paolo Who Volunteered To Shake Hands.

Chapter 23 (There Is No Such Girl) Pg 163

    "She Has Forgotten My Kisses, And I--Have Forgotten Her

    Name."--A.C. Swinburne.

 

 

I Went Early In The Morning To The Villa With The Intention Of Culling

The Boy Like A Wayside Flower, And Carrying Him Off To The Lake. The

Hour Was Unearthly For A Morning Call, And The Windows Were Still

Asleep, But I Was Spared The Necessity Of Raising The Echoes With An

Untimely Peal Of The Bell. Under The Red Umbrella Lounged The Boy,

Reading With The Appearance, At Least, Of Nonchalance. For All He

Could Tell, I Might Have Failed In My Mission, And Have Come To

Announce The Hour Fixed For Deadly Combat; But He Was Not Even Pale.

Indeed, I Had Never Seen Him Rosier, Or Brighter-Eyed.

 

I Sat Down On The