The Black Robe. Wilkie Collins
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he said, “of my last transaction, when I borrowed of that gentleman there, who is betting on the General’s luck at the card table. Beware of employing him as I did. What do you think I got for my note of hand of four thousand francs? A hundred bottles of champagne, fifty bottles of ink, fifty bottles of blacking, three dozen handkerchiefs, two pictures by unknown masters, two shawls, one hundred maps, and—five francs.”
We went on playing. My luck deserted me; I lost, and lost, and lost again. From time to time I looked round at the card table. The “deal” had fallen early to the General, and it seemed to be indefinitely prolonged. A heap of notes and gold (won mainly from Romayne, as I afterward discovered) lay before him. As for my neighbor, the unhappy possessor of the bottles of blacking, the pictures by unknown masters, and the rest of it, he won, and then rashly presumed on his good fortune. Deprived of his last farthing, he retired into a corner of the room, and consoled himself with a cigar. I had just arisen, to follow his example, when a furious uproar burst out at the card table.
I saw Romayne spring up, and snatch the cards out of the General’s hand. “You scoundrel!” he shouted, “you are cheating!” The General started to his feet in a fury. “You lie!” he cried. I attempted to interfere, but Romayne had already seen the necessity of controlling himself. “A gentleman doesn’t accept an insult from a swindler,” he said, coolly. “Accept this, then!” the General answered—and spat on him. In an instant Romayne knocked him down.
The blow was dealt straight between his eyes: he was a gross big-boned man, and he fell heavily. For the time he was stunned. The women ran, screaming, out of the room. The peaceable Commander trembled from head to foot. Two of the men present, who, to give them their due, were no cowards, locked the doors. “You don’t go,” they said, “till we see whether he recovers or not.” Cold water, assisted by the landlady’s smelling salts, brought the General to his senses after a while. He whispered something to one of his friends, who immediately turned to me. “The General challenges Mr. Romayne,” he said. “As one of his seconds, I demand an appointment for to-morrow morning.” I refused to make any appointment unless the doors were first unlocked, and we were left free to depart. “Our carriage is waiting outside,” I added. “If it returns to the hotel without us, there will be an inquiry.” This latter consideration had its effect. On their side, the doors were opened. On our side, the appointment was made. We left the house.
IV.
IN consenting to receive the General’s representative, it is needless to say that I merely desired to avoid provoking another quarrel. If those persons were really impudent enough to call at the hotel, I had arranged to threaten them with the interference of the police, and so to put an end to the matter. Romayne expressed no opinion on the subject, one way or the other. His conduct inspired me with a feeling of uneasiness. The filthy insult of which he had been made the object seemed to be rankling in his mind. He went away thoughtfully to his own room. “Have you nothing to say to me?” I asked. He only answered: “Wait till to-morrow.”
The next day the seconds appeared.
I had expected to see two of the men with whom we had dined. To my astonishment, the visitors proved to be officers of the General’s regiment. They brought proposals for a hostile meeting the next morning; the choice of weapons being left to Romayne as the challenged man.
It was now quite plain to me that the General’s peculiar method of card-playing had, thus far, not been discovered and exposed. He might keep doubtful company, and might (as I afterward heard) be suspected in certain quarters. But that he still had, formally-speaking, a reputation to preserve, was proved by the appearance of the two gentlemen present as his representatives. They declared, with evident sincerity, that Romayne had made a fatal mistake; had provoked the insult offered to him; and had resented it by a brutal and cowardly outrage. As a man and a soldier, the General was doubly bound to insist on a duel. No apology would be accepted, even if an apology were offered.
In this emergency, as I understood it, there was but one course to follow. I refused to receive the challenge.
Being asked for my reasons, I found it necessary to speak within certain limits. Though we knew the General to be a cheat, it was a delicate matter to dispute his right to claim satisfaction, when he had found two officers to carry his message. I produced the seized cards (which Romayne had brought away with him in his pocket), and offered them as a formal proof that my friend had not been mistaken.
The seconds—evidently prepared for this circumstance by their principal—declined to examine the cards. In the first place, they said, not even the discovery of foul play (supposing the discovery to have been really made) could justify Romayne’s conduct. In the second place, the General’s high character made it impossible, under any circumstances, that he could be responsible. Like ourselves, he had rashly associated with bad company; and he had been the innocent victim of an error or a fraud, committed by some other person present at the table.
Driven to my last resource, I could now only base my refusal to receive the challenge on the ground that we were Englishmen, and that the practice of dueling had been abolished in England. Both the seconds at once declined to accept this statement in justification of my conduct.
“You are now in France,” said the elder of the two, “where a duel is the established remedy for an insult, among gentlemen. You are bound to respect the social laws of the country in which you are for the time residing. If you refuse to do so, you lay yourselves open to a public imputation on your courage, of a nature too degrading to be more particularly alluded to. Let us adjourn this interview for three hours on the ground of informality. We ought to confer with two gentlemen, acting on Mr. Romayne’s behalf. Be prepared with another second to meet us, and reconsider your decision before we call again.”
The Frenchmen had barely taken their departure by one door, when Romayne entered by another.
“I have heard it all,” he said, quietly. “Accept the challenge.”
I declare solemnly that I left no means untried of opposing my friend’s resolution. No man could have felt more strongly convinced than I did, that nothing could justify the course he was taking. My remonstrances were completely thrown away. He was deaf to sense and reason, from the moment when he had heard an imputation on his courage suggested as a possible result of any affair in which he was concerned.
“With your views,” he said, “I won’t ask you to accompany me to the ground. I can easily find French seconds. And mind this, if you attempt to prevent the meeting, the duel will take place elsewhere—and our friendship is at an end from that moment.”
After this, I suppose it is needless to add that I accompanied him to the ground the next morning as one of his seconds.
V.
WE were punctual to the appointed hour—eight o’clock.
The second who acted with me was a French gentleman, a relative of one of the officers who had brought the challenge. At his suggestion, we had chosen the pistol as our weapon. Romayne, like most Englishmen at the present time, knew nothing of the use of the sword. He was almost equally inexperienced with the pistol.
Our opponents were late. They kept us waiting for more than ten minutes. It was not pleasant weather to wait in. The day had dawned damp and drizzling. A thick white fog was slowly rolling in on us from the sea.
When they did appear, the General was not among them. A tall, well-dressed young man saluted Romayne with stern courtesy, and said to a stranger who accompanied him: “Explain the circumstances.”
The stranger proved to be a surgeon. He entered at once on the necessary explanation. The General was too ill to appear. He had been attacked that morning by a fit—the consequence of the blow that he had received. Under these circumstances, his eldest son (Maurice) was now on the ground to fight the duel on his father’s behalf; attended by the General’s seconds, and with the General’s full approval.
We instantly refused to allow the duel to take place, Romayne loudly declaring that he had no quarrel with the General’s son. Upon this, Maurice