"M. de Pont Brillant, did you receive a note this morning requesting you to meet some one at Grand Sire's Rock?" "No; for I left Pont Brillant at eight o'clock; but once more, what does all this mean? Who the devil are you?" "I am the writer of the letter sent you this morning." "Ah, well, my friend, you can--" "I am not your friend," interrupted the voice, "I am your enemy." "What's that you say?" exclaimed Raoul, in surprise. "I say that I am your enemy." "Indeed!" retorted Raoul, in a half-amused, half-contemptuous tone, for he was naturally very brave. "And what is your name, Mister Enemy?" "My name is a matter of no consequence." "Probably not, but why the devil do you stop me in the road at nightfall, then? Ah, I remember you said you wrote to me." "Yes." "To tell me what?" "That you were a coward if you--" "Wretch!" exclaimed Raoul, starting his horse. But Madame Bastien's son struck the horse in the head with the barrel of his gun, forcing him to stop. Raoul, a trifle startled at first, but really curious to know what the stranger was coming at, calmed himself, and remarked, coldly: "You did me the honour to write to me, you say?" "Yes, to tell you that if you were not a coward, you would come to Grand Sire's Rock to-day with your gun loaded like mine." "And may I ask what we were to do with our guns?" "We were to place ourselves ten paces apart, and then fire at each other." "And for what object may I ask?" "So I would kill you or you would kill me." "That would probably have been the case at that distance unless we were very poor shots. But if one is so anxious to kill people, one should at least tell me why." "I want to kill you--because I hate you." "Bah!" "Do not sneer, M. de Pont Brillant, do not sneer." "It is very difficult not to, but I'll try simply to oblige you. You hate me, you say, and why?" "The cause of my hatred concerns you as little as my name." "Do you really think so?" "I do." "Well, you hate me, you say? What of it?" "You must kill me or I shall kill you." "That seems to be a settled thing with you. Where are we to fight?" "Here, right here and now." "But it isn't light enough to see." "There is no need of its being light enough to see." "But what are we to fight with?" "With my gun." "One gun?" "Yes." "That's a strange idea. How are we to do it?" "Get down off your horse." "And after that?" "Pick up a handful of stones out of the road." "Stones! So it is with stones that we are going to fight. It reminds me of the famous battle between David and Goliath." "I said that you were to pick up a handful of stones out of the road. The darkness will prevent you from counting the stones, and you will hold them in your closed hand. The one who guesses the number correctly is to have the gun. He will place it against the other's breast and fire. You see that no daylight is needed for that, M. de Pont Brillant."