When the old nobleman reentered the inn, he waited ten minutes, persuaded that his departure would determine that of Cibo and of Pietrapertosa, and that the new affair, following so strangely upon the other, would be deferred until the next day.  He had not told an untruth.  It was his strong friendship for Julien which had made him apprehend a duel organized in that way, under the influence of a righteous indignation.  Gorka’s unjustifiable violence would certainly not permit a second encounter to be avoided.  But as the insult had been outrageous, it was the more essential that the conditions should be fixed calmly and after grave consideration.  To divert his impatience, Montfanon bade the innkeeper point out to him whither they had carried Florent, and he ascended to the tiny room, where the doctor was dressing the wounded man’s leg.

“You see,” said the latter, with a smile, “I shall have to limp a little for a month....  And Dorsenne?”

“He is all right, I hope,” replied Montfanon, adding, with ill-humor:  “Dorsenne is a fool; that is what Dorsenne is.  And Gorka is a wild beast; that is what Gorka is.”  And he related the episode which had just taken place to the two men, who were so surprised that the doctor, bandage in hand, paused in his work.  “And they wish to fight there at once, like redskins.  Why not scalp one another?....  And that Cibo and that Pietrapertosa would have consented to the duel if I had not opposed it!  Fortunately they lack two seconds, and it is not easy to find in this district two men who can sign an official report, for it is the mode nowadays to have those paltry scraps of paper.  One of my friends and myself had two such witnesses at twenty francs apiece.  But that was in Paris in ’sixty-two.”  And he entered upon the recital of the old-time duel, to calm his anxiety, which burst forth again in these words:  “It seems they do not decide to separate so quickly.  It is not, however, possible that they will fight....  Can we see them from here?” He approached the window, which indeed looked upon the enclosure.  The sight which met his eyes caused the excellent man to stammer....  “The miserable men!....  It is monstrous....  They are mad....  They have found seconds....  Whom have they taken?....  Those two huntsmen!....  Ali, my God!  My God!"....  He could say no more.  The doctor had hastened to the window to see what was passing, regardless of the fact that Florent dragged himself thither as well.  Did they remain there a few seconds, fifteen minutes or longer?  They could never tell, so greatly were they terrified.

As Montfanon had anticipated, the conditions of the duel were terrible.  For Pietrapertosa, who seemed to direct the combat, after having measured a space sufficiently long, of about fifty feet, was in the act of tracing in the centre two lines scarcely ten or twelve metres apart.

“They have chosen the duel a ’marche interrompue’,” groaned the veteran duellist, whose knowledge of the ground did not deceive him.  Dorsenne and Gorka, once placed, face to face, commenced indeed to advance, now raising, now lowering their weapons with the terrible slowness of two adversaries resolved not to miss their mark.