CHAPTER XXVIII

The Prince looked at him in astonishment.

"You can't get to London to-night," said he; "there are no trains."

"I can walk."

"It is thirty-five miles."

"I am accustomed to long walks."

"At any rate you will have some supper first--in my little

breakfast-room. Don't refuse, because I want you to meet Castrillon."

"Castrillon! I should like to meet Castrillon."

"Then I will tell him. You and he can take supper together. He doesn't

want to join the big party. He has the artist's detestation of the

chattering mob. How well he plays! And what a triumph for--Madame!"

"A great triumph."

"This corridor leads to my tiny cupboard--the merest cupboard! Follow

me." They went through several doors and up several small staircases

till they reached a small apartment furnished in old blue damask,

heavily fringed with tarnished gold and silver decorations.

"A few souvenirs of my hereditary castle in Alberia," explained the

Prince; "they relieve my sense of exile."

He walked across the floor and tapped on what appeared to be a portion

of the wall.

"We are here," said he.

The secret door was opened, and Castrillon, still wearing his costume as

the Chevalier, joined them. If one may believe Prince d'Alchingen's

account of this unfortunate meeting, the young men greeted each other

with composure. D'Alchingen declares that he studied Orange to the

depths of his soul, and he does him the justice to say that he did not

make a movement or utter a word which denoted the least emotion. There

was not any sort of alteration in his countenance, and he led the

conversation with a tranquillity and a gaiety really enchanting. When

the supper was served, His Excellency had no hesitation in leaving the

rivals together--so convinced was he that they would remain on good

terms.

"M. de Castrillon," said Orange, when the Prince had gone, "I cannot sit

down at supper with you. We have to settle an old score."

Castrillon bowed:

"I am here to learn your wishes. I have heard from several sources that

you wished to see me. If you have anything to say, pray say it quickly,

because--I have an appointment with Mrs. Parflete."

"Will you do me the favour to leave that lady's name out of the

discussion?"

"I see no reason why I should do you favours, M. de Hausee. But I am

quite ready to atone for my indifference by any course of action which

could satisfy the most scrupulous delicacy."

"There is but one course of action open to us."

"I shall be happy to have the honour of meeting you on your own terms.

But," he added, contemptuously, "we are both wasting our time over a

worthless woman. She was seen leaving your lodgings on Wednesday last. I

have just heard this. And I received, before the play began this

evening, a letter from her fixing a _rendez-vous_ for two o'clock. If

you doubt me I can show you the letter. I am as much disappointed as you

are. She has fooled us both. Before God I could have sworn she was a

religious and modest woman."

His chagrin was so genuine that it was impossible to doubt his good

faith.

"It is a lie," said Orange; "she was never at my lodgings."

"I don't call _you_ a liar, M. de Hausee, but I can prove my words,

whereas it might be difficult to prove yours. I can show you the

letter."

"She never wrote it."

Castrillon sat on the edge of the table, and poured out some wine.

"That is what I said," he replied, "when I read it. So long as we are

going to fight, let it be because we hate each other, and not because we

have both been deceived by the same prude."

"In other words," said Orange, quietly, "you wish to drive a good

bargain, knowing that whether you utter one insult or twenty, I can but

fight you once."

"_A l'outrance_, however," answered Castrillon, dipping a biscuit into

the glass.

"Yes, _a l'outrance_."

"This being the case, let me tell you a few of my ideas. You find life

very hard. I find it altogether amusing. I don't love a woman the less

when I cease to honour her. I don't honour a man the less when I detest

him. If you should kill me, M. de Hausee, it will be the most

respectable occurrence in my immortality. But if I should kill you, it

will be the vile conclusion of an exemplary career."

"Your conversation is most entertaining, Monsieur. I am, unhappily, in

no mood to listen to it. May I ask you to meet me to-morrow with your

second at three o'clock at Calais? We can then go on to Dunkerque and

settle this difference."

"I am perfectly agreeable."

They arranged a few more details and parted. The interview, which took

place in French, is not easily reproduced in English. Orange wrote one

account of the scene, and Castrillon confided another to Prince

d'Alchingen, and the above is probably as nearly as possible a faithful

description of what actually passed.

Robert left Hadley Lodge, and plunged through the darkness toward

London. He reached Vigo Street about seven o'clock in the morning. It

was Sunday, and the streets were silent. He let himself into the house

with a latch-key, and groped his way up the creaking unlit staircase. On

entering his room, the draught between the open window and the door set

all his papers whirling from his writing-table, and, by a strange

accident, dislodged his crucifix from its nail. It fell to the ground,

and when he picked it up, the small Figure was broken. This accident

seemed an ill omen, but he put it from his thoughts, and scrawled a

hasty letter to Charles Aumerle, asking him to be his second. This he

delivered himself at Aumerle's chambers in St. James's Place, saying

that he would call for an answer at nine. But Aumerle, ever fond of

adventures, was at Vigo Street at half-past eight.

"If you are bent upon it," said he, "I will do everything in my power to

see it through. I think you are quite right. Every one will say the

same."

The two left for Calais by the first boat that morning. Castrillon, and

Isidore, and a young Frenchman, M. de Lamoignon, were on board also. At

Calais the two seconds conferred, and the duel was arranged to take

place in a field near Dunkerque on the following morning. On the

following morning, the four men met. The combatants were placed at

fifteen paces from each other. They fired simultaneously and Castrillon

fell--mortally wounded.