Dujarier, who had no stomach for fighting--except with his pen--would have backed out if he could. But he could not. Things had already gone too far. Accordingly, he referred the visitors to his friends, Arthur Bertrand (a god-son of the Emperor) and Charles de Boignes, and then hurried off to consult them himself. "Pistols for two and coffee for one," was their decision when they heard what he had to tell them. There was, they were emphatic, no other way by which he could satisfy his "honour." The code demanded it. Clutching at a straw, Dujarier next sought counsel of Alexandre Dumas. "I don't know why I am fighting," he said. If it came to that, Dumas shared his ignorance. Still, he insisted that a "meeting" was inevitable. This was the case. For a Frenchman to refuse to "go out"--no matter what his reason--would be to incur social ignominy. He would be looked upon as a pariah; not a hand would be offered him; and he would have bundles of white feathers showered upon him by his former acquaintances. It was all very ridiculous. Still, it must be remembered that "the period was one when journalists aped fine gentlemen, and killed themselves for nothing." Ferdinand Bac declares that this practice was "largely the fault of Dumas, who, in his romances, would describe lovely women throwing themselves between the combatants to effect their reconciliation." Since a meeting could be a serious affair, the seconds were naturally anxious to protect themselves. Accordingly, the four of them, putting their heads together, drew up a document which, in the event of untoward consequences occurring, would, they felt, absolve them of responsibility: "We, the undersigned, state that, as the result of a disagreement, M. de Beauvallon has provoked M. Dujarier in a fashion that makes it impossible for him to refuse an encounter. We ourselves have done all we can to reconcile these gentlemen; and it is only at M. de Beauvallon's urgent demand that we are proceeding in the matter." As the challenged party, Dujarier had the choice of weapons. The privilege, however, was not worth much to him. He had never handled cold steel, while his adversary was an expert fencer, and he was also such a poor marksman that he could not have made sure of hitting a haystack at twenty yards. Still, he reflected that, although de Beauvallon was unlikely to miss him with a rapier, he might possibly do so with a bullet. Accordingly, he elected for pistols. When Dujarier came back to her that evening, Lola, with womanly intuition, saw that some trouble had befallen him. Under pressure, he admitted that he was about to fight a duel for which he had no stomach. At the same time, however, he led her to believe that his adversary was de Beauvoir, and not de Beauvallon. Having thus calmed her fears, for she knew that de Beauvoir was no more a fire-eater than was he himself, he went off to have another consultation with his seconds.