enough to speak seriously. Is it true that
Bouchereau was never in danger?"

"In great danger, on the contrary. Was he not about fighting you?"

"So that when you sent him to Nice----?"

"It was to prevent the duel. As a physician, I watch over the health of
my clients; and it was my duty to preserve Bouchereau from your sword,
which is said to be a terrible malady."

"One of which you will perhaps have to cure yourself before very long,"
exclaimed the Captain, completely exasperated by the Doctor's coolness.
"The idiot Bouchereau may die of fear, or of any thing else. I certainly
shall not do him the honour to meddle with him; but you, my friend, so
skilled in sharp jests, I shall be glad to see if your valour equals
your wit."

The part of an unfortunate and mystified rival is so humiliating, that
Pelletier's vanity prevented his stating his real ground of complaint,
and mentioning the name of Madame Bouchereau. The Doctor imitated his
reserve, and listened to the officer's defiance with the same tranquil
smile which had previously played upon his countenance.

"My dear Captain," he said, "at this moment you would particularly like
to pass your good sword through my body, or to lodge a ball in my
leg--for, in consideration of our old friendship, I presume you would
spare my head. You shall have the opportunity, if you positively insist
upon it. But if you kill me, who will arrange your marriage with
Mademoiselle Nanteuil?"

Pelletier stared at his adversary with an astonished look, which
redoubled the Doctor's good humour.

"Who is Mademoiselle Nanteuil?" he at last said, his voice involuntarily
softening.

"An amiable heiress whom I attend, although she is in perfect health;
who has two hundred thousand francs in possession, as much more in
perspective, and who, if an intelligent friend undertook the
negotiation, would consent, I think, to bestow her hand and fortune upon
a good-looking fellow like yourself."

"Confound this Magnian!" said the Captain, taking the Doctor's arm, "it
is impossible to be angry with him."

FOOTNOTES:

[8] It is pretty generally known--even to those to whom it has not been
granted to stand in the imposing presence of our fast friend and ancient
ally, Monsieur Alexandre Dumas--that there is a slight tinge of black in
the blood of that greatest of French _romanciers_, past, present, or to
come. In connexion with the fact, we will cite an anecdote:--

A person more remarkabl