“The choice of the weapon lies with us, I opine,” replied Trevanion.  “We have already named pistols, and by them we shall decide this matter.”

It was at length, after innumerable objections, agreed upon that we should be placed back to back, and at a word given each walk forward to a certain distance marked out by a stone, where we were to halt, and at the signal, “une,” “deux,” turn round and fire.

This, which is essentially a French invention in duelling, was perfectly new to me, but by no means to Trevanion, who was fully aware of the immense consequence of not giving even a momentary opportunity for aim to my antagonist; and in this mode of firing the most practised and deadly shot is liable to err—­particularly if the signal be given quickly.

While Trevanion and the Captain were measuring out the ground, a little circumstance which was enacted near me was certainly not over calculated to strengthen my nerve.  The stranger who had led us to the ground had begun to examine the pistols, and finding that one of them was loaded, turned towards my adversary, saying, “De Haultpenne, you have forgotten to draw the charge.  Come let us see what vein you are in.”  At the same time, drawing off his large cavalry glove, he handed the pistol to his friend.

“A double Napoleon you don’t hit the thumb.”

“Done,” said the other, adjusting the weapon in his hand.

The action was scarcely performed, when the bettor flung the glove into the air with all his force.  My opponent raised his pistol, waited for an instant, till the glove, having attained its greatest height, turned to fall again.  Then click went the trigger—­the glove turned round and round half-a-dozen times, and fell about twenty yards off, and the thumb was found cut clearly off at the juncture with the hand.

This—­which did not occupy half as long as I have spent in recounting it —­was certainly a pleasant introduction to standing at fifteen yards from the principal actor; and I should doubtless have felt it in all its force, had not my attention been drawn off by the ludicrous expression of grief in O’Leary’s countenance, who evidently regarded me as already defunct.

“Now, Lorrequer, we are ready,” said Trevanion, coming forward; and then, lowering his voice, added, “All is in your favour; I have won the ‘word,’ which I shall give the moment you halt.  So turn and fire at once:  be sure not to go too far round in the turn—­that is the invariable error in this mode of firing; only no hurry—­be calm.”

“Now, Messieurs,” said Derigny, as he approached with his friend leaning upon his arm, and placed him in the spot allotted to him.  Trevanion then took my arm, and placed me back to back to my antagonist.  As I took up my ground, it so chanced that my adversary’s spur slightly grazed me, upon which he immediately turned round, and, with the most engaging smile, begged a “thousand pardons,” and hoped I was not hurt.