business, especially as it was
possible the matter might come to Peggy Kirkpatrick's ears. Like
myself, he regarded the meeting with Gaston Cheverny very lightly. I
had my sword with me, and did not need to hire one as my adversary
did, for he had on merely a dress sword, unfit for work. We could not
lay hands on a surgeon, and I told Jacques Haret it mattered
not--I would only be amusing myself with my young man, and he was
only for saying that he crossed swords at a moment's warning, about
a young lady--and no one was likely to be hurt. We required a
lantern, however, and Jacques Haret proposing a wine shop as a
place likely to have a lantern for hire, we went in search of
one--and speedily found it. And we were also able to secure what I
knew would please my young cock mightily--one of those pieces of
black cloth which old custom decrees shall be carried to throw over
the corpse if either one of the combatants fall. It was no more
likely to be used than a babe's swaddling clothes, but it looked
tragic, and I saw that young Cheverny was bent upon being as
tragic as possible, under the circumstances.

At the appointed time we were at the rendezvous. The Temple gardens
were remote and retired, and at this hour of the night were perfectly
deserted, not even a watchman being about.

I found my young friend with another cavalier, some years older than
himself--a regular _petit-maitre_, Bellegarde by name, insipid beyond
words, and very fretful because Gaston Cheverny had insisted on
fighting at such a time.

Jacques Haret went through the affair with the most killing gravity.
Monsieur Bellegarde asked if an accommodation was possible. Jacques
Haret replied no, except upon the admission that Count Saxe was the
greatest man that ever lived. This Bellegarde earnestly besought
Gaston Cheverny to agree to, alleging that he knew of several persons
who were of that mind, and besides he was then due at a supper party.
Cheverny, however, persisted stoutly that Alexander the Great was a
more considerable man, and the supper party must wait until after the
meeting in question. Then Jacques Haret said there was no time to
lose. I never saw a youngster so pleased as Gaston Cheverny was at
that. He had come to Paris for adventures and here was one to his
exact taste. I think the fighting by the lantern-light filled his
boyish soul with rapture.

For myself, I knew I was a good and experienced swordsman; and I meant
to use all my