lied to him. Duroy tried to appear
self-possessed, but he was haunted continually by the fear of showing
his feelings or of losing his self-possession. Rival addressed him,
saying: "I took the pistols to Gastine Renette. He loaded them. The box
is sealed."

Duroy replied mechanically: "Thank you."

Then Rival proceeded to give him minute directions, that he might make
no mistakes. Duroy repeated those directions as children learn their
lessons in order to impress them upon his memory. As he muttered the
phrases over and over, he almost prayed that some accident might happen
to the carriage; if he could only break his leg!

At the end of a glade he saw a carriage standing and four gentlemen
stamping their feet in order to keep them warm, and he was obliged to
gasp in order to get breath. Rival and Boisrenard alighted first, then
the doctor and the combatant.

Rival took the box of pistols, and with Boisrenard approached the two
strangers, who were advancing toward them. Duroy saw them greet one
another ceremoniously, then walk through the glade together as they
counted the paces.

Dr. Le Brument asked Duroy: "Do you feel well? Do you not want
anything?"

"Nothing, thank you." It seemed to him that he was asleep, that he was
dreaming. Was he afraid? He did not know. Jacques Rival returned and
said in a low voice: "All is ready. Fortune has favored us in the
drawing of the pistols." That was a matter of indifference to Duroy.
They helped him off with his overcoat, led him to the ground set apart
for the duel, and gave him his pistol. Before him stood a man, short,
stout, and bald, who wore glasses. That was his adversary. A voice
broke the silence--a voice which came from afar: "Are you ready, sirs?"

Georges cried: "Yes."

The same voice commanded: "Fire!"

Duroy heard nothing more, saw nothing more; he only knew that he raised
his arm and pressed with all his strength upon the trigger. Soon he saw
a little smoke before him; his opponent was still standing in the same
position, and there was a small white cloud above his head. They had
both fired. All was over! His second and the doctor felt him,
unbuttoned his garments, and asked anxiously: "Are you wounded?" He
replied: "No, I think not."

Langremont was not wounded either, and Jacques Rival muttered
discontentedly: "That is always the way with those cursed pistols, one
either misses or kills one's opponent."

Duroy was paralyzed with surprise and joy. Al