I had finished dressing just as the clock struck nine. I was already beginning to fret over the baron's non-appearance, when my door opened and a slender, graceful young man, of most attractive aspect, stood before us. I looked at him several times, before I exclaimed: "Frédérique!" "Myself, my friend." "What's that? Why, yes, on my word, it's Madame Dauberny!" "Why are you in this disguise?" "What! can't you guess? I am your other second." "You! Can you think of such a thing, Frédérique?" "I thought of it instantly, when I knew that you were going to fight for me." "But it's impossible! A woman cannot act as second. I cannot consent to it.--Isn't that so, Balloquet?" "It certainly isn't customary, and----" "Listen, messieurs: I have but one reply to make--I propose to do it! If you don't take me with you, I will follow you and be there, all the same. All argument is useless. I propose to be your second." "But my adversary's seconds will laugh when they see a woman." "Never fear, they won't laugh long. But let us go, messieurs; we must not keep them waiting. I have a cab below." I saw that it was useless for me to try to change Frédérique's resolution. We started. I took my sword; but I found a pair of foils without buttons in the cab. Frédérique had thought of everything. We talked little on the way. However brave we may be, we are always assailed by a multitude of reflections when about to fight a duel. We reached the rendezvous. Saint-Bergame was already there, with Fouvenard and a little man who did not seem to enjoy the occasion at all. I went forward first, apologizing for my delay. Balloquet was behind me, and Frédérique a little farther back. Saint-Bergame simply bowed and walked away, saying: "Let us look for a suitable spot." The little man suggested that we might fight behind the restaurant. Fouvenard recognized Balloquet, and they exchanged a formal bow. We went into the woods, and in a few moments came to a small cleared space. I removed my coat, and Saint-Bergame did the same. Then Frédérique came forward with the foils, and my opponent at once exclaimed: "What is this? Is Madame Dauberny one of your seconds?" "Yes, monsieur," replied Frédérique, with dignity; "for if Charles and his friend do not avenge me, then I will avenge myself." Saint-Bergame indulged in mocking laughter, and Monsieur Fouvenard deemed it fitting to join him. "Ha! ha!" he said; "a woman for second! Why, this is charming! I would be glad to cross swords with the lady myself." "Well! so you shall, if you're not a coward," retorted Frédérique, offering him one of her foils. He was still pleased to jest and draw back, saying: "Nonsense! I would with pleasure, if it were a fan; but a foil--my dear lady, you wouldn't know how to handle that!" "Indeed! I shouldn't know how to handle it?"