he would accept it, as he would bestow alms.  It was that chord of generosity which Julien, diplomatic for once in his life, essayed to touch by his confidence.  Gaining authority by their conversation of a few days before, he related all he could of Gorka’s visit, concealing the fact of that word of honor so falsely given, which still oppressed him with a mortal weight.  He told how he had soothed the madman, how he conducted him to the station, then he described the meeting of the two rivals twenty-four hours later.  He dwelt upon Alba’s manner that evening and the infamy of the anonymous letters written to Madame Steno’s discarded lover and to her daughter.  And after he had reported the mysterious quarrel which had suddenly arisen between Gorka and Chapron: 

“I, therefore, promised to be his second,” he concluded, “because I believe it my absolute duty to do all I can to prevent the duel from taking place.  Only think of it.  If it should take place, and if one of them is killed or wounded, how can the affair be kept secret in this gossiping city of Rome?  And what remarks it will call forth!  It is evident that these two boys have quarrelled only on account of the relations between Madame Steno and Maitland.  By what strange coincidence?  Of that I know nothing.

“But there will not be a doubt in public opinion.  And can you not see additional anonymous letters written to Alba, Madame Gorka, Madame Maitland?....  The men I do not care for....  Two out of three merit all that comes to them.  But those innocent creatures—­is it not frightful?”

“Frightful, indeed,” replied Montfanon; “it is that which renders those adulterous adventures so hideous.  There are many people who are affected by it besides the guilty ones....  You see that, you who thought that society so pleasant, so refined, so interesting, the day before yesterday?  But it does no good to recriminate.  I understand.  You have come to ask me to advise you in your role of second.  My follies of youth will enable me to direct you....  Correctness in the slightest detail and no nerves, when one has to arrange a duel.  Oh!  You will have trouble.  Gorka is mad.  I know the Poles.  They have great faults, but they are brave.  Lord, but they are brave!  And little Chapron, I know him, too; he has one of those stubborn natures, which would allow their breasts to be pierced without saying ‘Ouf!’ And ‘amour propre’.  He has good soldier’s blood in his veins, that child, notwithstanding the mixture.  And with that mixture, do you not see what a hero the first of the three Dumas, the mulatto general, has been?....  Yes.  You have there a hard job, my good Dorsenne....  You will need another second to assist you, who will have the same views as you and—­pardon me—­more experience, perhaps.”

“Marquis,” replied Julien, whose voice trembled with anxiety, “there is only one person in Rome who would be respected enough, venerated by all, so that his intervention in that delicate and dangerous matter be decisive, one person who could suggest excuses to Chapron, or obtain them from the other....  In short, there is only one person who has the authority of a hero before whom they will remain silent when he speaks of honor, and that person is you.”