“It is,” said he.

“One question more.  Did she tell you I had—­I had”—­

“Why, as to that, she was in no condition to deny she had fallen, poor girl; the evidence was too strong.  She did not reveal her seducer’s name; but I had not far to go for that.”

“One question more,” said Dujardin, with a face of anguish.  “Is it Jos—­is it Madame Raynal’s wish I should marry her sister?”

“Why, of course,” said Raynal, in all sincerity, assuming that naturally enough as a matter of course; “if you have any respect for her feelings, look on me as her envoy in this matter.”

At this Camille turned sick with disgust; then rage and bitterness swelled his heart.  A furious impulse seized him to expose Josephine on the spot.  He overcame that, however, and merely said, “She wishes me to marry her sister, does she? very well then, I decline.”

Raynal was shocked.  “Oh,” said he, sorrowfully, “I cannot believe this of you; such heartlessness as this is not written in your face; it is contradicted by your past actions.”

“I refuse,” said Dujardin, hastily; and to tell the truth, not sorry to inflict some pain on the honest soldier who had unintentionally driven the iron so deep into his own soul.

“And I,” said Raynal, losing his temper, “insist, in the name of my dear Josephine”—­

“Perdition!” snarled Dujardin, losing his self-command in turn.

“And of the whole family.”

“And I tell you I will never marry her.  Upon my honor, never.”

“Your honor! you have none.  The only question is would you rather marry her—­or die.”

“Die, to be sure.”

“Then die you shall.”

“Ah!” said Dujardin; “did I not tell you we were wasting time?

“Let us waste no more then.  When and where?”

“At the rear of the commander-in-chief’s tent; when you like.”

“This afternoon, then—­at five.”

“At five.”

“Seconds?”

“What for?”

“You are right.  They are only in the way of men who carry sabres; and besides the less gossip the better.  Good-by, till five,” and the two saluted one another with grim ceremony; and Raynal turned on his heel.

Camille stood transfixed; a fierce, guilty joy throbbed in his heart.  His rival had quarrelled with him, had insulted him, had challenged him.  It was not his fault.  The sun shone bright now upon his cold despair.  An hour ago life offered nothing.  A few hours more, and then joy beyond expression, or an end of all.  Death or Josephine!  Then he remembered that this very Josephine wished to marry him to Rose.  Then he remembered Raynal had saved his life.  Cold chills crossed his breaking heart.  Of all that could happen to him death alone seemed a blessing without alloy.

He stood there so torn with conflicting passions, that he noted neither the passing hours nor the flying bullets.