the result of his mission. Left to his own devices, Duroy aimed at
the target several times and then sat down to reflect.

Such affairs were abominable anyway! What would a respectable man gain
by risking his life? And he recalled Norbert de Varenne's remarks, made
to him a short while before. "He was right!" he declared aloud. It was
gloomy in that cellar, as gloomy as in a tomb. What o'clock was it? The
time dragged slowly on. Suddenly he heard footsteps, voices, and
Jacques Rival reappeared accompanied by Boisrenard. The former cried on
perceiving Duroy: "All is settled!"

Duroy thought the matter had terminated with a letter of apology; his
heart gave a bound and he stammered: "Ah--thank you!"

Rival continued: "M. Langremont has accepted every condition.
Twenty-five paces, fire when the pistol is leveled and the order
given." Then he added: "Now let us lunch; it is past twelve o'clock."

They repaired to a neighboring restaurant. Duroy was silent. He ate
that they might not think he was frightened, and went in the afternoon
with Boisrenard to the office, where he worked in an absent, mechanical
manner. Before leaving, Jacques Rival shook hands with him and warned
him that he and Boisrenard would call for him in a carriage the next
morning at seven o'clock to repair to the wood at Vesinet, where the
meeting was to take place.

All had been settled without his saying a word, giving his opinion,
accepting or refusing, with such rapidity that his brain whirled and he
scarcely knew what was taking place. He returned home about nine
o'clock in the evening after having dined with Boisrenard, who had not
left him all day. When he was alone, he paced the floor; he was too
confused to think. One thought alone filled his mind and that was: a
duel to-morrow! He sat down and began to meditate. He had thrown upon
his table his adversary's card brought him by Rival. He read it for the
twentieth time that day:

"Louis LANGREMONT,
176 Rue Montmartre."

Nothing more! Who was the man? How old was he? How tall? How did he
look? How odious that a total stranger should without rhyme or reason,
out of pure caprice, annoy him thus on account of an old, woman's
quarrel with her butcher! He said aloud: "The brute!" and glared
angrily at the card.

He began to feel nervous; the sound of his voice made him start; he
drank a glass of water and laid down. He turned from his right side to
his left uneasily. He was thirsty; he