At last the day came, and at six o’clock Ernest was at my house. I took my pistols; a cab was below, and I told the driver to go to Vincennes. I did not say a word during the drive. Just as we arrived, Ernest said to me: “If you should fall, my friend, have you nothing to say, no orders to give?” “No, my dear Ernest, for except you and your wife, no one really cares for me. My son is not old enough to understand the loss he would sustain. My daughter--she would cry perhaps, and that is why nothing must be said to her. Poor child! I do not want to make her shed a tear.” We arrived, and I saw two men walking to and fro a few gun shots from the château; they were Dulac and his second. We hurried toward them and joined them; they bowed to us; I did not respond to the salute, but strode on toward the woods. I did not know Dulac’s second; he was not one of our circle; so much the better. I do not know what Dulac had said to him, but I am convinced that he was not deceived as to the motive which had caused me to pick a quarrel with him the night before. We stopped; the seconds gave us the weapons after examining them; then they measured off the distance. “Fire, monsieur,” I said to Dulac; “I am the aggressor.” “No, monsieur,” he replied coldly; “it is for you to fire first, you are the insulted party.” I did not wait for him to say it again; I fired and missed him. It was his turn; he hesitated. “Fire,” I said to him; “remember, monsieur, that this affair cannot end thus.” He fired. I was not hit. Ernest handed me another pistol. I aimed at Dulac again, I pulled the trigger, and he fell. I am not naturally cruel, but I wished that I had killed him. XVII A NEW CAUSE FOR UNHAPPINESS.--AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE I left the wood at once; Ernest followed me, after telling Dulac’s second that he would send somebody to him. At last, fate had been just; my thirst for vengeance had been satisfied. I should have felt a little relieved, but I did not; it was because I was not avenged on her who had injured me most. I thanked Ernest and left him, promising him to go often to his house. He insisted that I should come that very day to dine with them; but I felt that I must be alone a little longer. I would go when I had learned to endure, or at least to conceal, my sorrow. I looked for an apartment in Ernest’s neighborhood, far away from that in which I had lived. I hired the first vacant one that I found, then returned home. I went to my landlord and paid what he demanded to allow me to move at once. At last I was free. I ordered my furniture to be moved instantly. I dismissed my servant. I had no reason to complain of her, far from it; but she had been in my service during the time that I was determined to forget; I did not want to see her again. At last I was free. I gave her enough to enable her to wait patiently for other employment.