Books: Cosmopolis, v3
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Paul Bourget >> Cosmopolis, v3
"You see," said the latter, with a smile, "I shall have to limp a little
for a month.... And Dorsenne?"
"He is all right, I hope," replied Montfanon, adding, with ill-humor:
"Dorsenne is a fool; that is what Dorsenne is. And Gorka is a wild
beast; that is what Gorka is." And he related the episode which had just
taken place to the two men, who were so surprised that the doctor,
bandage in hand, paused in his work. "And they wish to fight there at
once, like redskins. Why not scalp one another?.... And that Cibo and
that Pietrapertosa would have consented to the duel if I had not opposed
it! Fortunately they lack two seconds, and it is not easy to find in
this district two men who can sign an official report, for it is the mode
nowadays to have those paltry scraps of paper. One of my friends and
myself had two such witnesses at twenty francs apiece. But that was in
Paris in 'sixty-two." And he entered upon the recital of the old-time
duel, to calm his anxiety, which burst forth again in these words: "It
seems they do not decide to separate so quickly. It is not, however,
possible that they will fight.... Can we see them from here?" He
approached the window, which indeed looked upon the enclosure. The sight
which met his eyes caused the excellent man to stammer.... "The
miserable men!.... It is monstrous.... They are mad.... They have
found seconds.... Whom have they taken?.... Those two huntsmen!....
Ali, my God! My God!".... He could say no more. The doctor had
hastened to the window to see what was passing, regardless of the fact
that Florent dragged himself thither as well. Did they remain there a
few seconds, fifteen minutes or longer? They could never tell, so
greatly were they terrified.
As Montfanon had anticipated, the conditions of the duel were terrible.
For Pietrapertosa, who seemed to direct the combat, after having measured
a space sufficiently long, of about fifty feet, was in the act of tracing
in the centre two lines scarcely ten or twelve metres apart.
"They have chosen the duel a 'marche interrompue'," groaned the veteran
duellist, whose knowledge of the ground did not deceive him. Dorsenne
and Gorka, once placed, face to face, commenced indeed to advance, now
raising, now lowering their weapons with the terrible slowness of two
adversaries resolved not to miss their mark.
A shot was fired. It was by Boleslas. Dorsenne was unharmed. Several
steps had still to be taken in order to reach the limit. He took them,
and he paused to aim at his opponent with so evident an intention of
killing him that they could distinctly hear Cibo cry:
"Fire! For God's sake, fire!"
Julien pressed the trigger, as if in obedience to that order, incorrect,
but too natural to be even noticed. The weapon was discharged, and the
three spectators at the window of the bedroom uttered three simultaneous
exclamations on seeing Gorka's arm fall and his hand drop the pistol.
"It is nothing," cried the doctor, "but a broken arm."
"The good Lord has been better to us than we deserve," said the Marquis.
"Now, at least, the madman will be quieted.... Brave Dorsenne!" cried
Florent, who thought of his brother-in-law and who added gayly, leaning
on Montfanon and the doctor in order to reach the couch: "Finish quickly,
doctor, they will need you below immediately."
ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
One of those trustful men who did not judge when they loved
That suffering which curses but does not pardon