rose, he felt restless.

"Am I afraid?" he asked himself.

Why did his heart palpitate so wildly at the slightest sound? He began
to reason philosophically on the possibility of being afraid. No,
certainly he was not, since he was ready to fight. Still he felt so
deeply moved that he wondered if one could be afraid in spite of
oneself. What would happen if that state of things should exist? If he
should tremble or lose his presence of mind? He lighted his candle and
looked in the glass; he scarcely recognized his own face, it was so
changed.

Suddenly he thought: "To-morrow at this time I may be dead." He turned
to his couch and saw himself stretched lifeless upon it. He hastened to
the window and opened it; but the night air was so chilly that he
closed it, lighted a fire, and began to pace the floor once more,
saying mechanically: "I must be more composed. I will write to my
parents, in case of accident." He took a sheet of paper and after
several attempts began:

"My dear father and mother:"

"At daybreak I am going to fight a duel, and as something
might happen--"

He could write no more, he rose with a shudder. It seemed to him that
notwithstanding his efforts, he would not have the strength necessary
to face the meeting. He wondered if his adversary had ever fought
before; if he were known? He had never heard his name. However, if he
had not been a remarkable shot, he would not have accepted that
dangerous weapon without hesitation. He ground his teeth to prevent his
crying aloud. Suddenly he remembered that he had a bottle of brandy; he
fetched it from the cupboard and soon emptied it. Now he felt his blood
course more warmly through his veins. "I have found a means," said he.

Day broke. He began to dress; when his heart failed him, he took more
brandy. At length there was a knock at the door. His friends had come;
they were wrapped in furs. After shaking hands, Rival said: "It is as
cold as Siberia. Is all well?"

"Yes."

"Are you calm?"

"Very calm."

"Have you eaten and drunk something?"

"I do not need anything."

They descended the stairs. A gentleman was seated in the carriage.
Rival said: "Dr. Le Brument." Duroy shook hands with him and stammered:
"Thank you," as he entered the carriage. Jacques Rival and Boisrenard
followed him, and the coachman drove off. He knew where to go.

The conversation flagged, although the doctor related a number of
anecdotes. Rival alone rep