M. de Cernay having invited me to fill a vacant seat in a box at the Opéra, which he and Lord Falmouth leased together, I was glad to accept, and went there the very night of this unfortunate race, which, by the way, happened on a Friday. As I ascended the staircase, I was accosted by a certain M. de Pommerive, who was an amusing sort of parasite in good society. He was from fifty to sixty years old. He had more curiosity and malice than any man I ever knew, and, besides, was the greatest gossip and liar that you can imagine. "Well," said he, as he joined me with an air of great consternation, "do you know what has happened? That unfortunate M. de Merteuil is dead! Ah, _mon Dieu, mon Dieu_, what a dreadful misfortune! I have just been dining with Count ----; I can't remember a single thing I have eaten, I was so overcome!" "It was a frightful accident!" "Frightful, frightful, frightful! But what is worse still, is the cause of the challenge. You know what people say?" "I know what they say," I replied, "but I do not know the facts of the case." "It amounts to the same thing," said M. de Pommerive; "but don't you think it was the height of insolence in Madame de Pënâfiel to go to that race? Because she has one of the most elegant houses in Paris, because she is witty enough to say the most clever and cutting things, this imperious marquise thinks she may be permitted to do anything she pleases. It is revolting! My word of honour,--she ought to be made to feel it! And since, after all, people will go to her house, because they are well received and dine well there, it would be a shame, it would be an indignity, it would be positively wicked, I say, to be quiet about such a scandal. We would all seem to be the slaves of her caprices; perfect slaves!" said he, with indignation. "You are quite right," said I; "you show your independence, and your noble contempt for benefits that you have received; nothing could be more manly. But do they really say that De Merteuil and De Senneterre had any quarrel about Madame de Pënâfiel, and that their challenge was in consequence of it?" "Certainly; people say so, every one repeats the same story, and every one believes it though they themselves, that is to say Senneterre, for he is the only one left, will never admit it. I met him awhile ago as I went to inquire for that poor De Merteuil, who only lived two hours after his fall. I met Senneterre at the door looking perfectly wretched,--such a face! "I began to sound him about Madame de Pënâfiel, but he had sufficient control over himself to pretend not to understand a word I was saying. But after the way Madame de Pënâfiel treated them both on the race-course, Senneterre could not admit the real cause of the challenge without being thought a fool." "How could that be?" said I. "What, haven't you heard the good story about the marquise and the Turk?" exclaimed M. de Pommerive, suddenly elated with joy.