I must have hit the Prince hard, judging by the effects. His friends picked him up and after a minute or so led him away into the hotel. Then Nikolitch came across to me, his look very troubled.
“This is an ugly business, Bergwyn. He’s badly marked and half dazed with your blow.”
“I am more sorry for it than I can say,” I replied. I regretted it intensely indeed.
“It was his fault—his only. We all saw that. He came to the place with the intention of quarrelling. He knew we were to dine here. One of his companions heard it from a friend of mine. He behaved abominably. We all see that: even his friends.”
“Oh, yes, the insult was deliberate. I couldn’t take that. What is to happen?”
“I said that we would go to your house: and should be there, if they had a message to bring. Shall we go?”
“It means a meeting, of course,” I said, as we left.
“Of course. Have you been out before?”
“No; we don’t settle our quarrels this way in the States; but I’ve been in more than one ugly scrap and come through.”
“He’s an old hand at it and is an excellent swordsman. But you will have choice of weapons. You beat him, through being so cool. He generally gets the choice of weapons, taking care to give the insult and so be the challenged party. That was his move just now. He first insulted you, thinking you would challenge him; and when you didn’t, he meant to strike you so that you’d be obliged. I was glad you prevented that.”
“I’d give a good deal to be out of it,” I said, after a pause. My companion glanced at me in some surprise.
“I don’t see how you can avoid it.”
“I’m not afraid. I don’t mean that. But coming right on top of what you were saying about the Princess, it will set tongues wagging about her.”
“You mean the dog story?” I nodded. “You don’t mean there’s anything in that?”
“There’s one woman who knows it all and by this time has the proofs. The Baroness von Tulken.”
“To the devil with that woman. She’s in everything,” he exclaimed. “Of course that’s where it comes from: and of course she told Albrevics. It’s an ugly story for him to hear. You’ll have to be careful. He means mischief.”
“I’m not thinking about him.”
“No, but he’s been thinking about you, Bergwyn. What will you do?”
“What the devil can I do, man? If it would help things for her, I’d choose pistols and kill him; but it would only make matters worse for her. Everyone will set the quarrel down to her; and that’s just what I’d have given anything to avoid.”
“Oh, it wouldn’t hurt her. It doesn’t hurt a woman here for two men to quarrel about her—choosing, of course, a decent pretext—and for one of ’em to be killed. It’s happened often enough.” His indifferent tone no less than his words astonished me. “Are you a good shot?” he added after a pause.
“I can shoot a bit, and use a sword well enough to keep myself out of danger, probably, if it comes to that.”
“It will come to one or the other, Bergwyn. There’s no other way now. Have you any foils here?” he asked as we reached my house; and when I produced them he proposed that we should try a bout.
We took off our coats and set to work at once. Mine was a very indifferent style, very rough and ready, and his particularly polished, acquired in the latest Italian school. But mine served me well enough for defensive purposes. He was the better swordsman, with a dozen more tricks of fence than I possessed, but he could not break through my guard. He touched me more than once; but not so as to have inflicted any serious wound, had the weapons been sharp.
“You haven’t much to fear from the Prince,” he said in one of the breathing spaces. “His is also the Italian style; and he’s better than I am; but you have a devil of a defence. Can you force the fighting a bit? Try now.”
We crossed again and this time, after a long, defensive play I changed my tactics suddenly, and touched him.
“You got me in the arm,” he cried, directly. “And well done, too. You’ll wear the Prince down. That’s his one failing—he can’t keep his temper. I have no fear for to-morrow. You have an iron wrist.”
We were thus engaged when Buller brought word that the friends of Prince Albrevics had arrived. Nikolitch put on his coat and went to them. He was in high spirits.
“It is the challenge, of course,” he said when he returned. “Shall we make it swords or pistols? I have arranged to meet to-morrow morning a mile or two out of the city. If you don’t want to kill him I should choose swords.”
“Let it be swords then,” I agreed.
“He’s got a devil of a bruise on his face, they tell me,” he declared with obvious glee, as he left me again. “As if a horse had kicked him, one of them says.”
“We’ve arranged it all,” he reported when he came back again. “They were surprised at your choosing swords, because of his reputation, but it will be all right. You’ll wear him down. I know him. And now I’ll be off and find someone to act with me. Get to bed early and have as much sleep as you can. I’ll be round in time in the morning.”
I sat for some time after he had left me, smoking and thinking. I regretted the whole thing more than I can say; but when I found my thoughts getting into a very gloomy vein, I put the brake on; and taking Nikolitch’s advice, went off to bed and slept soundly until Buller called me.
Nikolitch came in good time bringing a friend, a Captain Astic, and we drove off. It was a gloriously fine morning, the air cool, refreshing and brisk.
“Too much sun,” was Nikolitch’s practical comment. He looked at everything as if it affected the matter in hand, and spoke of it as though it were the most ordinary course in the world that two sane men should go out to do murder if possible.
Of my own sensations I need not say much. I was thoughtful, preoccupied indeed, and gloomy. I don’t think I was afraid; although the deliberateness of the preparations and the anticipation of having to meet a man in cold blood and fight him for my life, made the affair appear almost formidable. I was far from having a wish to do the Prince any injury, to say nothing of taking his life; and my chief thought was the impossible wish that the whole matter, quarrel and all, could have been wiped out of the record of things done and be deemed never to have occurred.
I don’t think I spoke during the drive out; but I remember taking notice of many trifles. There was a loose button in the upholstering of the carriage: some stains on Captain Astic’s uniform caught my eye, and I contrasted it with the smart grooming of Nikolitch. My friend was awkward in handling the pair of swords we had with us; and he and the other joked about it. Trifles of that kind struck me; and when the drive came to an end and we left the carriage, I can recall my distinct sensation of relief, followed by a fidgetty impatience to get the affair over.
I was irritated because the other side kept us waiting a considerable time. My seconds lit cigarettes and first picked out the best spot for the encounter; then in low tones discussed the delay and the probable reasons for it; whether the Prince was too ill to come; how long we need wait for him; and so on. They appeared to me to speak with a certain amount of disappointment, as one might regret being robbed of a promised entertainment.
The air began to chill them and they stamped about and clapped their gloved hands to keep the blood circulating. But I felt nothing of that. I sat quite still on the trunk of a fallen tree and was conscious mainly of a sort of impressive awe making everything seem unreal, mingled with a growing desire that the fight could be avoided; or rather the necessity for it obliterated—for I was perfectly aware of its inevitability.
I could not bring myself to wish to harm the man I was to meet. Once or twice I sought to rouse my anger against him by recalling the insult of the previous evening and the foulness of his words and conduct. But even while I appreciated its wantonness and inexcusable grossness, I could not stir myself to any real passion. My sense of regret for the whole business overshadowed everything.
I believe my companions thought I was suffering from fear; but it was not conscious fear, if fear at all. I did not anticipate any serious results to myself from the duel. Such a thought never occurred to me: it was the lethargy of an overwhelming revolt from the affair as a whole.
It began to grow less absorbing when I heard Captain Astic tell Nikolitch, in a tone of unmistakable relief and satisfaction, that the others were coming.
Nikolitch came and told me, and I noticed a solicitude and anxiety in his tone and look that were new.
“Very well,” I said, with half a sigh.
“You have nothing to fear,” he whispered, that Astic might not hear him.
“I do fear nothing, Nikolitch,” I said, with a smile; and his face brightened at the smile.
As soon as they came the four seconds busied themselves in settling the preliminaries and then Nikolitch introduced a fifth man to me.
“Doctor Astic, the Captain’s brother, Bergwyn.”
We shook hands and the doctor had a steady look into my eyes. “It’s a chilly morning although so bright—but we get them here sometimes,” he said.
“Any morning’s good enough for this sort of thing,” I answered; and he had another stare at me and then put down his case of instruments on the tree where I had been sitting.
“Will you get ready, Mr. Bergwyn?” asked Captain Astic.
I saw the Prince already had his coat off and I made ready, the Captain meanwhile pointing out the positions we were to take with cheerful but professional coolness.
As they placed us, I saw the mark of my blow on the Prince’s face and I noticed also that he was none too steady on his feet. I called Nikolitch to me and pointed this out.
“It’s his affair,” he answered with a shrug of the shoulders.
“I can’t fight a sick man,” I said, sharply. “Speak to the doctor about it.”
“But it’s so irregular,” he objected.
“I insist,” I declared.
He spoke to Astic and then to the Prince’s seconds and after some discussion, in which all four took part, they called the doctor up to them. Then his seconds spoke to the Prince and some angry words passed; and again the four seconds consulted. Then Nikolitch came to me looking angry and crestfallen.
“I’m sorry; but they think you’re afraid, Bergwyn,” he said.
“I don’t care a red cent what they think. Does the doctor say the Prince is fit to fight? He can hardly stand; look at him lurching there.”
“Oh, Astic says he’s all right: and he knows him.”
“Then he takes the responsibility. I won’t.”
“He’s only in a devil of a rage.”
“Very well, then. I’m ready.”
A minute later the word was given and we engaged. I had no lethargy left now. The last vestige of it vanished when I felt his blade pressing mine and met his scowl of positively devilish hate. I needed no more than a glance into his eyes to see that he had come out to kill me, and that my life depended upon my skill and coolness.
But he was either too ill or too angry to be really dangerous. He attacked me furiously from the start; but he fought so wildly that I found myself quite able to hold him in check, and I let him exert himself to the utmost with the sure knowledge that in such a state he could not keep it up long.
I think he had reckoned upon being able to treat me with the same contempt as a swordsman as he had treated me as a man the night before; and when he found out his mistake, it provoked his rage until he fought with the frenzy of a madman.
Had he been himself and not so furiously reckless, I think he would have had an easy enough victory, for he had a hundred tricks of fence where I had none.
He seemed to realise something of this, too, when we had been hard at it for some time, for he began to fight with less vehemence and much more wariness.
But he had wasted his strength by that time; and to waste it still further, I commenced to push matters a bit from my side. He began to breathe hard. The pressure of his blade against mine weakened. Twice his foot slipped and he exposed himself dangerously; and then I knew I was going to beat him.
I took no advantage of his slips. The man was ill, or drunk, or suffering from the effects of drink; and I could not bring myself even to wound him.
I just kept to my tactics of wearing him down, defending myself when he attacked me and pressing him whenever he sought to ease off to get his breath back.
At last it became little more than a burlesque. He was so winded and exhausted and so unsteady on his legs that he could scarcely continue the fight, scarcely hold his sword, indeed; and when I realised this I made a big, pressing effort, and seizing my moment, whipped his sword out of his hand and left him gasping impotently in dismay and breathlessness and lurching like a discomfited, angry fool, until he began to clamour to renew the fight.
The seconds interfered at this, however; even his own men protesting. I stood while they settled it; and then turned away to dress.
Nikolitch was loud in praises of me as I put on my coat, but regretted I had not wounded him; as he might want to have another meeting.
“I shouldn’t meet him again. It’s an additional insult that he should have come out in such a state. And you’d better let him know I shan’t meet him again. If he monkeys with me again I’ll settle it in a more American fashion; and if there’s to be another fight of the kind, it shall begin where this morning’s has ended.”
To my astonishment Nikolitch carried the message to one of the Prince’s seconds and then we left the ground and drove back to the city.
I kept Nikolitch and Captain Astic to breakfast, and they could speak of nothing but the fight; criticising it with almost as much fond enthusiasm as if they had been experts describing a good game of baseball.
I was glad when they left me, indeed, and I could settle down to a quiet review of the situation. Nikolitch was to see me again in the afternoon; and he declared joyously and with a certain air of rather self-congratulatory importance, that they would both have a busy time in seeing that a true account of the duel was spread about.
“You are a fortunate man, Mr. Bergwyn, and will be a popular one,” said Captain Astic. “The Prince is thoroughly well hated and people will be ready to make much of you.”
I did not regard it at all in that light. It was Gatrina’s good-will, not that of the crowd, which I sought; and I felt she would hear with strong prejudice that I had allowed myself to be drawn into a quarrel which she would know well enough could only have arisen on her account.
Estranged as she already was by this monstrous story of my secret understanding with Elma, she would be quite incapable of appreciating my motives or feelings; and the fact that I could not get to her to explain everything irritated me almost beyond endurance.
It was my helplessness in that direction which tried me more than anything. She had set up a barrier between us which I could not break through. There was nothing I could do but fret and fume and pace up and down the room and down and up again, in vain imaginings as to how things were to end.
To an active temperament like mine nothing could be more galling. Prompt decision and action were mental instincts with me. I was accustomed in all affairs of life to take hold of a thing, plan my course and follow it up quickly and energetically. And yet here I had somehow allowed the reins to be snatched from my grasp and could only wring my hands in fatuous futility while I was being carried I could not tell where.
Do something I must; so I made another effort to see Gatrina, and pushed it until I met with a very ugly rebuff. I was told she was out, and I declared I would wait until she returned.
I waited, and waited, and waited until my patience was exhausted, only to be told by her servants that while I had been waiting she had returned and gone out again without seeing me.
I went home and wrote to her that I must see her on a matter of the most urgent importance. I gave the letter to Buller with instructions to place it personally in Gatrina’s hands.
An hour and more passed, and when he came he brought a reply in her handwriting. I tore the envelope open and my own letter, unopened, was enclosed and with it a cutting from a paper of that morning’s date, announcing in guarded terms my engagement to Elma.
At first I flushed with mortification and resentment, but then caught a glimpse of light.
If it was really the lie about Elma which had estranged her, I had but to get the truth to her to change that anger and make her feel the injustice she had done me.
I cast about for the means. She would neither see me nor read my letters; so that I must find someone who could get access to her.
I thought instantly of Karasch. I would send him to her and let Chris go with him as a mute ambassador. This might touch her for the sake of the past; and Karasch’s message should be just one sentence—that the announcement in the paper was a lie.
I sent for him at once, instructed him how to act, and despatched him on the errand; only to be defeated again, however. Gatrina had refused to see him.
There was only Nikolitch left, and even he failed me. He did not come at the time he had appointed, and when I went to his rooms in search of him, I heard that he had been sent away on military business and would not return until night or the next morning.
So the whole day passed without anything being done to kill the lie which was having such ominous results for me.
It was noon on the next day when I saw Nikolitch; and very anxious and disturbed he looked.
“I have grave news for you, Bergwyn,” he said at once. “The officers are going to move at once and a day or two, perhaps an hour or two, will find the crisis here.”
“I want to see you about something else,” I said, eagerly.
“My news first,” he replied. “Before anything else, you must know it. I fear that that condition of no violence will not be kept.”
Instantly my thoughts were for Gatrina and I chilled with fear for her.
“Speak plainly, Nikolitch.”
“I have come back at some risk to do so. I have only the worst to report. We moderates have been outvoted.”
Like a flash Elma’s grim word, “Assassination” darted across my mind as I waited for him to continue.