"All the same, he is late," said De Brissac. I looked at my watch. It was now ten minutes past seven, an inexcusable delay on Von Lichtenberg's part, unless, indeed, some accident had occurred. Five more minutes slowly passed; the sun had now completely freed himself from the mists of the Bois; the light struck down the path; it struck the mahogany instrument-case under the arm of Dr. Pons, and the hilts of the rapiers which De Brissac was carrying concealed in the folds of a long, fawn-coloured overcoat. "At twenty minutes past," said De Brissac, "I shall declare the duel postponed. I shall take my principal home and I shall demand an explanation, M. de Coigny." Scarcely had he spoken than Dr. Pons, who had been looking along the drive in the direction of the Champs Elysées, cried: "Here he comes." A closed carriage, drawn by two magnificent Orloff horses, had entered the broad drive and was advancing at full speed. I do not know how the weird impression came to me, but the closed carriage drawn by the black Russian horses suggested to me a funeral-carriage; and before it, as it came, the sunlight seemed to wither from the drive. A few paces from us the coachman literally brought the horses on their haunches, the door of the carriage opened, and a lady stepped out. A girl of about eighteen, an apparition so exquisite, so full of grace, so bright, so unexpected, that the men around me, used to beauty, world-worn and cynical as they were, said no word, and remained motionless as statues, whilst I clung to the arm of De Brissac. For the girl was Margaret von Lichtenberg--Margaret von Lichtenberg, little Carl, Baron Carl, all these apotheosised! And as I looked, a voice--Eloise's childish voice, heard long years ago--again murmured in my ear: "Little Carl is a girl." Then I knew that it was she--the woman so mysteriously bound up in my life; and as a man drowning remembers his whole past, in a flash of thought I remembered all: Von Lichtenberg's mad attempt to assassinate me, his dying words; the apparition of little Carl that had lured me into the gravelpit and lamed me for life; Baron Carl von Lichtenberg and his pursuit of me; my fight against Fate; my own words: "I will not--I will not! I am a living man with a will of my own; no dead Fate shall lead me or drive me." But I had never thought of this. I had played against Fate, and now I felt dimly that I had lost. I had not suspected this card which the dealer had slipped up his sleeve, and which now appeared to confound me, this lovely being, whose voice I now heard addressing De Coigny: "I have come on behalf of Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. There is no longer a Baron Carl von Lichtenberg. He is dead." "Listen," whispered De Brissac, clutching my arm. "This is very strange! I would swear it was the Baron Carl himself speaking. And she is like him. It must, then, be his sister."