Mated from the Morgue: A Tale of the Second EmpireO'Shea, John Augustus
History
Mated from the Morgue: A Tale of the Second Empire
O'Shea, John Augustus
France -- History -- Second Empire, 1852-1870 -- Fiction
'And now, messieurs,' he added in conclusion, 'I have two conditions to
impose, in the interests of our own safety. The first is, that no one
will seek to publish an account of this meeting in the papers; the next,
that each of the principals will sign a paper to the effect that he was
tired of a hollow and deceitful world, and meant to make away with
himself, so as to exonerate his antagonist from all responsibility in
the future.'
There was a twinkle in O'Hara's eyes as he spoke. He suspected the
Gascon's witnesses would not relish assisting at the combat unless they
were to borrow some reflected renown from it; and he knew that a
document such as he mentioned would be valueless, seeing that the
quarrel had been public, and the probable result was the common gossip
of the quarter. But he plausibly wheedled the Frenchmen into assenting
to his propositions by putting the terrible perils that would accrue to
them in the event of a death in very strong light.
As he was leaving, Blue Spectacles bethought him that they might have
some trouble in finding cavalry pistols. Eugène had none, he thought,
and it might lead to unpleasant consequences if they were to purchase
the weapons at a gunsmith's; they would be sure to be identified by the
prying _mouchards_.
'I can oblige, messieurs, if you will trust me,' said O'Hara. 'My friend
has a brace in capital order. You can make your choice of them on the
ground.'
This satisfied all requirements. O'Hara was thanked for his courtesy,
and was ushered to the landing with an exquisite urbanity that was
touching in its kindly, well-bred thoughtfulness; it positively recalled
the manner in vogue when the Roi Soleil shed the lustre of his
countenance on Versailles. As he briskly descended the stairs, the
students shut the door and looked at each other with faces overshadowed
with anxiety.
'_Pardi!_' said Blue Spectacles, 'this is serious.'
'Serious!--'tis awful!' said Pale Face. 'I feel as if I must have an
_absinthe pure_ at the Mère Moreau's. I would not be in Eugène's boots
for a milliard. Come on.'
* * * * *
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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