"Thank Heaven!" said one of them, "our newspapers will at last have something sensational to talk about." "I am only sorry...." said another. "For what?" "Those bottles that we may see no more." "Oh, I hope we shall give them decent burial." "I hope we shan't have to do the same with one of the principals." "I doubt it. What are the conditions?" "Pistols, and to fight till blood flows." "Damn it! Whose idea was that?" "Adler's." "Is he so sure of himself?" "He is an excellent shot." Towards the end of the dinner it became known that Zapora had accepted the conditions, and that the duel was to take place the next morning. "Gentlemen," said Adler, "I invite you all. We will drink all night." "Is that wise?" "I always do it before a contre-dance. This is my fourth," said Ferdinand. In another and more respectable restaurant, Zapora's friends were also discussing what had happened. "It is a shame," said one of them, "that a respectable man like Zapora should have to fight with such a senseless fool." "Zapora had no business to fall into the trap." "He fell into it by accident, but after that there was no way out of it." "It is a strange thing," said an old nobleman, "that such a good-for-nothing young fellow as Adler should not only be admitted into society, but also be at liberty to force a quarrel of this kind upon a man like Zapora. Formerly that sort of thing would have been impossible. It is because public opinion is getting slack that respectable men have to stake their lives. Nevertheless I am sorry for Zapora." "Isn't he a good shot?" "Quite fair, but the other is more--he is a real virtuoso." At about six o'clock Ferdinand retired to his room in the hotel. He wanted a little rest between his dinner-party and his night orgy; but he could not sleep, and began pacing up and down. Then he noticed that the windows opposite were those of Zapora's office. The street was narrow; the office was on the ground floor, and his own room on the first floor; Ferdinand could therefore closely observe what was going on. The judge was talking to his clerk and to a barrister, and showing them some papers. After some time the barrister took his leave and the clerk went out of the room. The judge was left alone. He placed the lamp on the writing-table, lighted a cigar, and began to write on a large sheet of paper: first a long heading, then he continued quickly and evenly. Adler felt sure that the judge was writing his will. Ferdinand had already fought several duels, considering them a kind of dangerous amusement. But now he became conscious that a duel could also be a very serious affair, for which one ought to be properly prepared. But how? There was this man writing a will!