"Let us go there; nobody but the men working in the brick kiln can see us, and they will not think of interfering with us; on the contrary, they will be grateful to us for affording them such an entertaining spectacle." Sans-Cravate made no reply, but went with Albert; the servant walked behind, carrying a case of pistols. When they reached the road that skirted the cemetery, Albert said: "I see no reason why we should go any farther.--Give me my pistols, Joseph." The servant opened the case and, trembling like a leaf, handed the pistols to his master. Meanwhile, the messenger, who had taken his from his pocket, offered them to his adversary, saying: "Would you prefer to take one of these and give me one of yours? It shall be as you choose." Albert glanced at Sans-Cravate's weapons, and exclaimed: "The devil! you have some very handsome pistols there, Sans-Cravate! It's a strange thing, but the more I examine them, the more certain I feel that I know them, that I have seen them somewhere." "It's quite possible, monsieur, for I got them from an acquaintance of yours. It was Madame Baldimer who gave them to me." "Baldimer!" ejaculated Albert. "Ah! yes, it was in her hands that I saw them. I can remember her saying to me laughingly, more than once: 'I mean to kill you with these pistols.'--It seems that she did not say it in jest. Clearly that woman has a bitter grudge against me.--Keep your own weapons, and I will keep mine, and let us take our places." Albert walked away some fifteen paces, then asked: "Is this satisfactory to you?" "Yes, monsieur," Sans-Cravate replied, in a trembling voice. "Pull yourself together, my poor Sans-Cravate; you seem agitated." "It's true, monsieur, I am trembling; though you may be sure that it ain't with fear. I've never fought with anything but fists, you see. A man gets hurt that way, but not killed. At all events, I never tried to fight unfair. And when I think that with this little steel tube I may kill you---- Look you, monsieur--if you would--it rests with you----" "Enough! enough, Sans-Cravate! let's not continue our conversation of this morning. You are the insulted party--fire first." "No, monsieur; I won't begin." "It's your right." "I insulted you this morning, by shaking you; it's your place to begin." "Listen: my servant will clap his hands three times, and at the third we will fire together." "That's all right." Albert told his servant what he was to do. He clapped his hands, turning his head so that he could not see the combatants. At the third signal, Sans-Cravate fired; there was no second report, but Albert fell in the road. Sans-Cravate ran to the young man, who had received the bullet in his side and was bleeding freely. He threw himself on his knees, weeping; but Albert held out his hand to him and tried to smile. "You have done your duty--don't be cut up. If I die, you will see that I haven't forgotten your sister."