small town of Meule, just over the border, and settled the usual
preliminaries. The next day at 7 A.M. we met on an open grassy space
within a wood. The lieutenant had the precious papers. We stepped
aside. The word was given and the blades met. Merton surprised me. It
is needless to enter into details. He was clearly no match for
Porthos, but his wonderful agility and watchful blue eyes served him
well. Then, of a sudden, there was a quicker contest. The baron's
sword entered Merton's right arm above the elbow. The seconds ran in
to stop the fight, but as the baron was trying to recover his blade,
instead of recoiling, Merton threw himself forward, keeping the
baron's weapon caught in his arm, and thrust madly, driving his
own sword downward through the baron's right lung. Then both men
staggered back and Porthos fell.

I hurried Merton away to an inn, where the wound his own act had made
serious was dressed. Although in much pain, he insisted on our leaving
him at once. Lieutenant West and I crossed the Channel that night. At
noon next day Mr. Adams had the papers and this queer tale which, as I
said, is unaccountably left out of his biography. I have often
wondered where, to-day, are those papers.

The count remained with Porthos at a farm-house near by. He made a
slow recovery, the colonel complaining bitterly that M. Merton's
methods lacked the refinement of the French duel.

The papers contained, among other documents, a rough draft of a letter
dated October 15, 1862, from M. Drouyn de Lhuys proposing intervention
to the courts of England and Russia. It appeared in the French
journals about November 14, when the crisis had passed. Mr. Adams
acted on the manly instructions of Mr. Seward, and Mr. Gladstone lived
to change his opinions on this matter, as in time he changed almost
all his opinions. Madame Bellegarde, unknown to history, had saved the
situation. The English minister declined the French proposals.

Soon after I returned, Madame Bellegarde reappeared, and, as soon as
he was well enough, Merton went to see her. She had been released,
as we supposed she would be, with a promise to say nothing of her
examination, and she kept her word. I thought it as well not to call
upon her, but when Merton told me of his visit I was malicious enough
to ask whether he had returned to her the ribbon. To this he replied
that I had a talent for observation and that I had better ask her.
She had been ordered to leave Fr