e duel was to take
place at four o'clock the same afternoon near the ponds of Ville
d'Avray.

Neither of the two adversaries showed a trace of nervousness. The signal
was given, M. De Villacourt advanced five steps, Henri remaining
stationary. At the sixth step Henri fired, and his opponent fell. Henri
hurried towards him.

"Back to your place," shouted the wounded man. On his hands and knees he
crawled forward to the limit of his advance leaving a trail of blood in
the snow. Then he took careful aim--and Henri fell with arms extended
and his face towards the ground.

_IV.--Broken Wanderers_

To Denoisel fell the painful duty of informing Mauperin of his son's
death. The old man's grief was heartbreaking. When Denoisel was admitted
to Renee, he found her sitting on a footstool, sobbing, with her
handkerchief pressed to her mouth.

"Renee," he said, taking her hands, "he has been killed--that man should
never have known. He did not read, he saw nobody, he lived like a
wolf--he was not a subscriber to the 'Moniteur.' Some enemy must have
sent him that paper."

Renee had risen; she moved her lips; she wanted to scream "It was I!"
Then, suddenly pressing her hand against her heart, she fell senseless
on the floor.

* * * * *

Renee did not seem to recover from her illness. Denoisel saw her daily,
but a certain coldness had set in between them--he thought that Renee
held him responsible for not having prevented the duel, while Renee
vaguely feared that Denoisel had guessed her secret. He started upon a
long journey.

In those days of illness and anxiety the hearts of father and daughter
seemed to come together more closely even than before. The heartbroken
old man saw his beloved child wasting away. He called in the best
specialist from Paris, who did not exactly give up all hope, but did not
conceal that Renee's life was in danger. The poor girl, who could not
bear to witness her father's misery, put on a gay air, assuring him
again and again that she was recovering. Indeed, when, at her urging,
the family removed to the country house where she had spent her
childhood, there was a real and marked improvement, and for a while the
roses seemed to return to her pale cheeks.

But she soon fell back into her listless state. Thus she lingered on for
several months, always cheering her father and speaking of her happy
future, always fading away until she became a mere shadow of her