And so good night to you, Mr. William Gall! Pleasant dreams! Bertie Loftus was getting over the evening in a different way. Bertie, in full dress, was exhibiting his handsome self at the rooms. He talked, he laughed, he danced; he was so unusually active, so unusually gay, that Raymond Trace, with his unfailing discernment, wondered what Bertie had been about, and knew he was only killing care. Bertie denied it when Trace asked; _there_ was his care, that split he had made in his left-hand glove. "Wretched kid that it must be," he said, with a light laugh. With a light laugh; with an assumption of careless gaiety: but nevertheless every pulse in Mr. Bertie's inward heart was beating with something that was more akin to pain than pleasure; and the loud notes of the music seemed to be so many pistol-shots banging off in the air. "Be on the ground in time, Loftus," whispered Mr. Leek, as he passed in the wake of the Lady Sophia's scarlet cloak, who had soon had enough of it, and was leaving early. "Five o'clock sharp, mind." "All right, Leek." And subsequently when Bertie Loftus himself took his departure, he and his party, a couple of coachfuls, and rattled along the port, he looked out at the glistening water and wondered whether he should ever see it again. He might wish the morrow over; he might wish what was to take place in it could be stopped; but that was impossible. Pride was in the ascendant with both him and Gall, you see; and of course gentlemen cannot act against the _convenances_ of society. The morning rose; warm, bright, clear; with a stiffish breeze yet, but nothing to intercept work or pistol shots. Gall found his way out of the hotel, and saw the faithful Talbot waiting, his back propped against the shutters at the parfumeur's opposite. Gall felt in better spirits than he had been last night, as most of us do when light has chased away the darkness. And, perhaps, he was willing to show himself gay. "Good morning, Shrewsbury! How long have you been there?" "Only five minutes. I say, is it not a glorious morning? Couldn't have a better," cried the earl. He seemed in spirits too. It was well to put a good face on what could not now be avoided. They walked to the appointed place, commencing the route by the Rue d'Assas, and so upwards. It was a good step, even when they had left the town behind. Carriages had been proposed the previous day; but they were afraid to engage any lest the affair should get known. These two were on the spot first. Certainly the seconds had chosen well; the place was appropriate enough to what had to be done on it. It was a bit of flat, low ground, where the grass was short, lying rather in a hollow, and sufficiently secluded. The sea sparkled in the distance over the heights; the open country was stretched out on the other hand; Boulogne lay below. A very few minutes, and Mr. Leek appeared in full spirits, carrying the case of pistols.