“We shall see each other again.”

The rascally Frenchman cooled down, and said to me,

“Now, you see, we are quits.”

“Very much quits.”

“That’s all very well; but, by God! you might have prevented the insult which has dishonoured me.”

“I might have done so, but I did not care to interfere.  You are strong enough to look after yourself.  Schmit had not his sword, but I believe him to be a brave man; and he will give you satisfaction if you will return him his money, for there can be no doubt that you lost the match.”

An officer, named de Pyene, took me up and said that he himself would give me the twenty louis which d’Ache had taken, but that the Swiss must give satisfaction.  I had no hesitation in promising that he would do so, and said I would bring a reply to the challenge the next morning.

I had no fears myself.  The man of honour ought always to be ready to use the sword to defend himself from insult, or to give satisfaction for an insult he has offered.  I know that the law of duelling is a prejudice which may be called, and perhaps rightly, barbarous, but it is a prejudice which no man of honour can contend against, and I believed Schmit to be a thorough gentleman.

I called on him at day-break, and found him still in bed.  As soon as he saw me, he said,

“I am sure you have come to ask me to fight with d’Ache.  I am quite ready to burn powder with him, but he must first pay me the twenty Louis he robbed me of.”

“You shall have them to-morrow, and I will attend you.  D’Ache will be seconded by M. de Pyene.”

“Very good.  I shall expect you at day-break.”

Two hours after I saw de Pyene, and we fixed the meeting for the next day, at six o’clock in the morning.  The arms were to be pistols.  We chose a garden, half a league from the town, as the scene of the combat.

At day-break I found the Swiss waiting for me at the door of his lodgings, carolling the ‘ranz-des-vaches’, so dear to his fellow-countrymen.  I thought that a good omen.

“Here you are,” said he; “let us be off, then.”

On the way, he observed, “I have only fought with men of honour up to now, and I don’t much care for killing a rascal; it’s hangman’s work.”

“I know,” I replied, “that it’s very hard to have to risk one’s life against a fellow like that.”

“There’s no risk,” said Schmit, with a laugh.  “I am certain that I shall kill him.”

“How can you be certain?”

“I shall make him tremble.”

He was right.  This secret is infallible when it is applied to a coward.  We found d’Ache and de Pyene on the field, and five or six others who must have been present from motives of curiosity.

D’Ache took twenty louis from his pocket and gave them to his enemy, saying,

“I may be mistaken, but I hope to make you pay dearly for your brutality.”  Then turning to me he said,