“To be brief, Monsieur, I have been challenged to a duel. It is to take place within four hours, and at some distance from St. Petersburg. At so short a notice I have a difficulty in finding a second, especially as I have but few friends in this city. Can you recommend a gentleman, one of resolute courage, inasmuch as my adversary is a high political personage?” “Supposing that I cannot name one?” “In that case I must proceed alone.” “That shall not be. It shall never be said that a _seigneur_ of old France was lacking in chivalry. Permit me to have the honour.” “The honour is mine; but will you not be compromising your own character as ambassador?” “Hasn’t Pauline told you what has happened? No? France has at the present moment no representative in St. Petersburg. Two weeks ago I forwarded my resignation to the Consulate. It was accepted, and my successor will arrive within a few days. My resignation,” he continued in answer to Wilfrid’s look of inquiry, “has no connection with politics. It has been made on purely personal grounds. I desire Pauline to leave Russia, and I see no other way of accomplishing my end than by leaving it myself.” While speaking he glanced keenly at Wilfrid, as if to mark the effect of his words, and seemed to derive satisfaction from Wilfrid’s blank look; for, the Princess excepted, there was no one in St. Petersburg whom Wilfrid liked better than Pauline, and therefore he heard the news with deep regret. “Your offer to be my second is extremely generous, but you will do well to refrain till you shall have heard the name of my adversary.” “A _seigneur_ of France knows not fear. I am your second whoever be your adversary. A high political personage? Humph! One of the Czar’s ministers, I suppose?” “Higher than a minister.” “_Ciel!_ Surely not a Grand Duke?” “Higher than a Grand Duke.” The Marquis looked hard at Wilfrid. “There is no one higher than a Grand Duke except the Czar.” “Incredible as it may appear, my adversary _is_ the Czar!” The Marquis showed surprise, yet that surprise was not so great as Wilfrid had expected. There was about him an air of satisfaction, as if he were pleased at the situation. “With what weapons do you fight?” “With swords.” “And you are deadly with the sword, I understand,” said the Marquis. “As most duels are caused by a lady,” he went on, “I presume yours is no exception to the rule?” “No exception.” He begged for a little light on the matter, and Wilfrid accordingly gave a hurried account of the events that had brought him into connection with the Princess Marie, making no mention, however, of the compromising adventure at the Silver Birch. The Marquis was deeply interested, and—a puzzling point to Wilfrid—even pleased. He seemed to brighten more and more as the story reached its climax.