u regretted the mistake, and then I suppose you apologized
and came away to report to me. I am sorry to have sent you on a
fruitless errand. Kindly tell us what passed.'

"The colonel sat up, and, as I thought, was a little embarrassed. He
said: 'With your permission, baron, I shall have the honor to relate
our conversation. We put the matter, count, as you desired. You had
been insulted. What explanation had M. Merton to offer? Then this
amazing American said that it was not true that he had insulted you;
that he had not given you his card; that he had never seen you; that
it was a droll mistake--"that you were unfortunate in your friends." I
think I am correct, baron?'

"'Yes. I so understood it.'

"'Then you said, as I recall it, baron, that--that--there was only
one word to apply to a man who could insult another and try to escape
the consequences. Then he said--well, to cut it short, he would send
his friends to us, and that, as he was the challenged party, it would
save time if he now declared it must be rifles--or revolvers--or, yes,
what he called bowie. What that is I know not.'"

"Lovely!" murmured Merton. "Go on."

"I explained to the count's friends that the bowie was a big knife
with which our Western gentlemen chopped one another. The count sat
still, with a look of repressed mirth, I choking with the fun of it,
Aramis fidgeting, the baron swelling with rage. The count asked if
that were all.

"Aramis went on: 'When I assured M. Merton that the methods proposed
were barbarous, he made himself unpleasant, and I was forced to say
that his language was of such incorrectness--in fact, so monstrous
that as a French soldier I held him personally responsible. The
animal assured me that when he was through with you and the baron, he
would attend to my own case. I grieve to admit, count, that our friend
the baron, usually so amiable, had previously lost his temper. That
was when our brigand proposed revolvers and the knife-bowie, and said
we were difficult.'

"'I did,' said the baron; 'I, who am all that there is of amiable.
Yes, I lost my temper.' He stood up as he went on. 'I said it was
uncivilized, that it was no jest, but a grave matter. _Mon Dieu!_ That
man, he told me that we fought with knitting-needles, that our duels
were baby-play--me--me--he said that to me! What could I reply? I said
I should ask him to retract. That man laughed--_a faire peur_--the
room shook. Then he said to excuse him, it w