what could I say or do
now? But strangely and suddenly, under the influence of this thought, my
anger died away. I saw with his eyes and felt with his heart; I saw how
he stood, and I knew that I had brought him to that pass. Was it strange
that he fired at me without faltering, although I might be ten times a
king? It seemed to me almost just that he should kill me. Varvilliers
would not give him a revolver. Did Varvilliers also suspect? I think his
fear was rather of our extreme rage against one another. It occurred to
me that I would not aim at my opponent. But then I thought I had no
right to act thus; it would make matters worse for him if I fell.
Besides my own life did not seem to me a thing to be thrown away
lightly.

Varvilliers produced another pair of pistols, similar to those which
Wetter and I now held. He loaded both, fired them into the targets, and
placed one on a shelf at either end of the room.

"Those are the first shots. You understand? The gentleman who is hit
made the mistake of not expecting a second shot. Now, sire--if you are
ready?"

We took up our positions, each six feet in front of the targets; a
bullet which hit me would, but for the interruption, have struck on, or
directly above or below, the outermost target on the right-hand side.

Vohrenlorf and Varvilliers stood on either side of the room; the latter
was to give the signal. Indeed Vohrenlorf could not have been trusted
with such a duty.

"I shall say fire, one--two--three," said Varvilliers. "You will both
fire before the last word is ended. Are you ready?"

We signified our assent. Wetter was pale, but apparently quite
collected. I was very much alive to every impression. For example, I
noticed a man's tread outside and the tune that he was whistling. I
lifted my pistol and took aim. At that moment I meant to kill Wetter if
I could, and I thought that I could. It did not even occur to me that I
was in any serious danger myself.

"Are you ready? Now!" said Varvilliers, in his smooth distinct tones.

I looked straight into Wetter's eyes, and I did not doubt that I could
send my bullet as straight as my glance. I felt that I saw before me a
dead man.

I am unable to give even to myself any satisfactory explanation of my
next act. It was done under an impulse so instantaneous, so single, so
simply powerful as to defy analysis. I have the consciousness of one
thought or feeling only; but even to myself it seems absurd and
inad