s famous
in his days among the drinking clubs, had attended the same lectures as
we had. If I was not deceived, we had drunk together and fought a duel.

"I undid the packet, and found within it a letter addressed to me.

"I have that letter still, but I know every word by heart so often have
I read it. Its contents were as follows:

"'MY DEAR COMRADE:

"'You may remember that, on the day before your departure from
Heidelberg, one of our young colleagues, Loerincz Aronffy, looked among
his acquaintances for seconds in some affair of honor. As it happened I
was the first he addressed. I naturally accepted the invitation, and
asked his reason and business. As you too know them--he told me so--I
shall not write them here. He informed me, too, why he did not choose
you as his second, and at the same time bound me to promise, if he
should fall in the duel, to tell you that you might follow the matter
up. I accepted, and went with him to the challenged. I explained that
in such a case a duel was customary, and in fact necessary; if he wished
to avoid it, he would be forced to leave the academy. The challenged did
not refuse the challenge, but said that as he was of weak constitution,
shortsighted and without practice with any kind of weapons, he chose the
American duel of drawing lots!'"

... Topandy glanced by chance at Lorand's face, and thought that the
change of color he saw on his countenance was the reflection of the
flickering flame in the fire-place.

"The letter continued:

"'At our academy at that time there was a great rage for that stupid
kind of duel, where two men draw lots and the one whose name comes out,
must blow his brains out after a fixed time. Asses! At that time I had
already enough common sense, when summoned to act as second in such
cases, to try to persuade the principals to fix a longer period,
calculating quite rightly that within ten or twelve years the bitterest
enemies would become reconciled, and might even become good friends: the
successful principal might be magnanimous, and give his opponent his
life, or the unsuccessful adversary might forget in his well-being, such
a ridiculous obligation.

"'In this case I arranged a period of sixteen years between the parties.
I knew my men: sixteen years were necessary for the education of the
traitorous schoolfox[58] into a man of honor, or for his proud, upright
young adversary to reach the necessary pitch of _sang froid_ that would
make a