“No; I have the right, I claim the place, I am the youngest subaltern, I am the 'cadet of the corps,'” cried half-a-dozen in a breath; but Carrier's voice overbore the others, saying,-- “Comrades, you seem to forget that this is my quarrel; I will not yield my right to any one!” “Yes, yes,” exclaimed several voices together; “Carrier says truly. The affair is his. We fight with the sabre, citizen, in the Chasseurs-à-Cheval. Is the weapon to your liking?” “One arm is the same to me as another,” replied I; and unfortunately this was too literally the case, since I was equally inexpert in all! “You can claim the pistol, if you wish it,” whispered an old captain, with a snow-white moustache. “The challenged chooses his weapons.” “The sabre be it, then,” exclaimed Carrier, catching me up at once. “Not if the citizen prefer the pistol,” interposed the captain. “He has already made his choice: he said all weapons were alike to him.” “Quite true,” said I; “I did say so!” “The greater fool you, then!” murmured the captain, between his teeth. “You might just as well have given yourself your chance. Carrier won't be so generous to you!” “Will you be my second?” asked I of him. “_Ma foi!_ if you wish it,” said he, with a shrug of the shoulders and a glance of such tender pity that could not be mistaken. “Let us follow them!” And so saying, we strolled leisurely on after the others, who, now passing through a small wicket, entered a little wood that adjoined the garden. A few minutes more brought us to an open space, which I rightly guessed had been often before the scene of similar affairs. I had never witnessed a duel in my life. I knew nothing of the formalities which were observed in its arrangement; and the questions which I asked the captain so palpably betrayed my ignorance that he stared at me with mute astonishment. “Have you any friends, boy,” asked he, after a pause, “to whom I can write for you?” “Not one,” said I. “All the better!” rejoined he, tersely. I nodded an assent; and from that moment we understood each other perfectly. No lengthy explanation could more plainly have declared that he thought I was doomed, and that I concurred in the foreboding. “My sabre will be too heavy for you, boy,” said he; “I 'll see and borrow a lighter one from one of my comrades. Chasteler, will you lend me yours?” “_Parbleu!_ that will I not. I'd never wear it again if used in such a quarrel.” “Right, Chasteler,” cried another; “I hope there is only one amongst us could forget an insult offered to the whole regiment.” “I wore my epaulette when you were in the cradle, Lieutenant Hautmain,” said the old captain; “so don't pretend to teach me the feelings that become a soldier. There, boy,” he added, drawing his sabre as he spoke, “take mine.” By this time my antagonist had divested himself of coat and neckcloth, and stood, with open shirt-breast and the sleeve of his sword-arm rolled up to the shoulder, before me.