st in the field, and
not the man to let them walk over my body."

The following morning, long before the consultations had begun, the
Captain strode into Magnian's reception room.

"Doctor," said he, with military frankness, "what you said yesterday
about Bouchereau's illness, has made me seriously reflect. I cannot
fight a man who has only six months to live. Suppose I wound him: a
hurt, of which another would get well, might be mortal to one in his
state of health; and then I should reproach myself, all my life, with
having killed an old friend for a mere trifle. Did he tell you the cause
of our quarrel?"

"No," replied the Doctor, who, in his capacity of negotiator, thought
himself at liberty to lie.

"A few hasty words," said Pelletier, deceived by Magnian's candid air;
"in fact, I believe I was in the wrong. You know I am very hasty; a
propos of some trifle or other, I was rough to poor Bouchereau, and now
I am sorry for it. In short, I have had enough duels to be able to avoid
one without any body suspecting a white feather in my wing. So if you
will advise Bouchereau to let the matter drop, I give you _carte
blanche_. Between ourselves, I think he will not be sorry for it."

"You may find yourself mistaken, Captain," replied the Doctor, with
admirable seriousness; "yesterday Bouchereau was much exasperated:
although of peaceable habits, he is a perfect tiger when his blood is
up. It appears that you hurt his feelings, and unless you make a formal
apology----"

"Well, well," interrupted Pelletier, "it is not much in my way to
apologise, and this is the first time; but with an old friend, I will
stretch a point. I would rather make concessions than have to reproach
myself hereafter. Shall we go to Bouchereau?"

"Let us go," said the Doctor, who could hardly help smiling to see how
the voice of interest instilled sensibility and humanity into the heart
of a professed duellist.

When Magnian and the officer entered his drawing-room, Bouchereau, who
had not shut his eyes the whole night, experienced all the sensations of
the criminal to whom sentence of death is read. But the first words
spoken restored fluidity to his blood, for a moment frozen in his veins.
The Captain made the most explicit and formal apology, and retired after
shaking the hand of his old friend, who, overjoyed at his escape, did
not show himself very exacting.

"Doctor, you are a sorcerer!" cried Bouchereau, as soon as he found
himself