Both parties to this fourth duel were badly hurt so much that the surgeon was at work upon them nearly or quite an hour—­a fact which is suggestive.  But this waiting interval was not wasted in idleness by the assembled students.  It was past noon, therefore they ordered their landlord, downstairs, to send up hot beefsteaks, chickens, and such things, and these they ate, sitting comfortable at the several tables, whilst they chatted, disputed and laughed.  The door to the surgeon’s room stood open, meantime, but the cutting, sewing, splicing, and bandaging going on in there in plain view did not seem to disturb anyone’s appetite.  I went in and saw the surgeon labor awhile, but could not enjoy; it was much less trying to see the wounds given and received than to see them mended; the stir and turmoil, and the music of the steel, were wanting here—­one’s nerves were wrung by this grisly spectacle, whilst the duel’s compensating pleasurable thrill was lacking.

Finally the doctor finished, and the men who were to fight the closing battle of the day came forth.  A good many dinners were not completed, yet, but no matter, they could be eaten cold, after the battle; therefore everybody crowded forth to see.  This was not a love duel, but a “satisfaction” affair.  These two students had quarreled, and were here to settle it.  They did not belong to any of the corps, but they were furnished with weapons and armor, and permitted to fight here by the five corps as a courtesy.  Evidently these two young men were unfamiliar with the dueling ceremonies, though they were not unfamiliar with the sword.  When they were placed in position they thought it was time to begin—­and then did begin, too, and with a most impetuous energy, without waiting for anybody to give the word.  This vastly amused the spectators, and even broke down their studied and courtly gravity and surprised them into laughter.  Of course the seconds struck up the swords and started the duel over again.  At the word, the deluge of blows began, but before long the surgeon once more interfered—­for the only reason which ever permits him to interfere—­and the day’s war was over.  It was now two in the afternoon, and I had been present since half past nine in the morning.  The field of battle was indeed a red one by this time; but some sawdust soon righted that.  There had been one duel before I arrived.  In it one of the men received many injuries, while the other one escaped without a scratch.

I had seen the heads and faces of ten youths gashed in every direction by the keen two-edged blades, and yet had not seen a victim wince, nor heard a moan, or detected any fleeting expression which confessed the sharp pain the hurts were inflicting.  This was good fortitude, indeed.  Such endurance is to be expected in savages and prize-fighters, for they are born and educated to it; but to find it in such perfection in these gently bred and kindly natured young fellows is matter for surprise.  It was