"Yes; it has come to that, Joubert. It seems that a man cannot live quietly in this Paris of yours without fighting for his life like some beast in an African forest. But I don't want to kill my man--only to put him out of action." "And why not kill him?" asked Joubert. "Mordieu, what is the use of fighting, else? Why take a sword in your hand if you only want to pay him compliments?" "Never mind. I don't want to kill him." "And who is the gentleman whom you desire to scratch?" "I will tell you that the morning of the affair, the 5th of July. We meet in the Bois de Boulogne. I will let you drive me, and you will see the business." "Good!" said Joubert. "If one cannot watch lions fighting, let us then watch cats. Attention!" Joubert was a bit over seventy, but he had the dexterity and almost the quickness of a young man. The spot to be reached is just over the bone half way down the arm. A nerve--I think they call it the musculo spiral--winds round the bone here. If you can pierce it, you entirely demoralise your opponent. Just as a bullet-wound in the hand reduces a strong man into the condition of a hysterical woman, so does a touch here. The button of Joubert's foil sent a tingle down my arm, proclaiming that the spot had been reached. Then I returned the compliment. We practised for half an hour, and again on the next day. And day followed day, till the 4th of July broke over Paris, cloudless and perfect. I was up early, and at ten o'clock I called upon De Brissac at his rooms, the Rue Helder. "Ah!" said he, "I'm glad to see you." "How so?" replied I, for his manner indicated something more than an ordinary greeting. "Well, as a matter of fact," replied he, "I heard last night--in fact, it was generally spoken of on the Boulevards--that you had arranged the matter amicably with the Baron von Lichtenberg." "That I had arranged the matter?" "People say you have apologised to him." "I apologise? Why, my dear sir, it was he who insulted me! He struck me on the shoulder with his glove. How, then, could I apologise?" "Not for that, but for the occurrence at the Mirlitons. So it is a canard?" "The wildest." "Ah, I thought so. And I think I know who set it flying--De Coigny." "I would not be surprised; he is an old enemy of mine." "I am certain of it," said De Brissac, "For M. de Champfleury, who is acting with me also as your second, told me that the report came to a friend of his from the mouth of M. de Coigny." "De Brissac," I said, "bring with you another friend--someone not indisposed to De Coigny--to-morrow." "Why?" "M. de Coigny----" Then I stopped, for the determination I had come to was of such a nature that I thought it best to leave the declaration of it till we were on the ground. "Why?" asked again De Brissac.