Dorsenne wrote down a number of their acquaintances, and they indeed crossed them off, according to his expression, so effectually that after a minute examination they had rejected all of them. They were then as much perplexed as ever, when suddenly Dorsenne's eyes brightened, he uttered a slight exclamation, and said brusquely: "What an idea! But it is an idea!.... Do you know the Marquis de Montfanon?" he asked Florent. "He with one arm?" replied the latter. "I saw him once with reference to a monument I put up at Saint Louis des Francais." "He told me of it," said Dorsenne. "For one of your relatives, was it not?" "Oh, a distant cousin," replied Florent; "one Captain Chapron, killed in 'forty-nine in the trenches before Rome." "Now, to our business," cried Dorsenne, rubbing his hands. "It is Montfanon who must be your second. First of all, he is an experienced duellist, while I have never been on the ground. That is very important. You know the celebrated saying: 'It is neither swords nor pistols which kill; it is the seconds.'.... And then if the matter has to be arranged, he will have more prestige than your servant." "It is impossible," said Florent; "Marquis de Montfanon.... He will never consent. I do not exist for him." "That is my affair," cried Dorsenne. "Let me take the necessary steps in my own name, and then if he agrees you can make it in yours.... Only we have no time to lose. Do not leave your house until six o'clock. By that time I shall know upon what to depend."