Chamberss Edinburgh Journal, No. 443 | Page 7

olla podrida of Spain. How many
a love-meeting has occurred in this place! But this time it was not Love
that brought the parties together, but Hate, his stepbrother; and in
Provence the one is as ardent, quick, and impatient as the other.
My business was soon accomplished. It consisted in asking the young
men what weapons they chose, and with which of them the duel was to
be fought. The dark-haired youth--his name was M---- L---- insisted
that he alone should settle the business, and his friends were obliged to
give their word not to interfere.
'You are too stout,' he said to the one, pointing to his portly figure; 'and
you'--to the other--'are going to be married; besides, I am a first-rate
hand with the sword. However, I will not take advantage of my youth
and strength, but will choose the pistol, unless the gentleman yonder
prefers the sword.'
A movement of convulsive joy animated the face of my old captain:
'The sword is the weapon of the French gentleman,' he said; 'I shall be
happy to die with it in my hand.'
'Be it so. But your age?'
'Never mind; make haste, and en garde.'
It was a strange sight: the handsome young man on one side,
overbearing confidence in his look, with his youthful form, full of
grace and suppleness; and opposite him that long figure, half naked--for
his blue shirt was furled up from his sinewy arm, and his broad, scarred
breast was entirely bare. In the old man, every sinew was like iron wire:
his whole weight resting on his left hip, the long arm--on which, in
sailor fashion, a red cross, three lilies, and other marks, were

tattooed--held out before him, and the cunning, murderous gaze rivetted
on his adversary.
''Twill be but a mere scratch,' said one of the three friends to me. I
made no reply, but was convinced beforehand that my captain, who
was an old practitioner, would treat the matter more seriously. Young
L----, whose perfumed coat was lying near, appeared to me to be
already given over to corruption. He began the attack, advancing
quickly. This confirmed me in my opinion; for although he might be a
practised fencer in the schools, this was proof that he could not
frequently have been engaged in serious combat, or he would not have
rushed forwards so incautiously against an adversary whom he did not
as yet know. His opponent profited by his ardour, and retired step by
step, and at first only with an occasional ward and half thrust. Young
L----, getting hotter and hotter, grew flurried; while every ward of his
adversary proclaimed, by its force and exactness, the master of the art
of fence. At length the young man made a lunge; the captain parried it
with a powerful movement, and, before L---- could recover his position,
made a thrust in return, his whole body falling forward as he did so,
exactly like a picture at the Académie des Armes--'the hand elevated,
the leg stretched out'--and his sword went through his antagonist, for
nearly half its length, just under the shoulder. The captain made an
almost imperceptible turn with his hand, and in an instant was again en
garde. L---- felt himself wounded; he let his sword fall, while with his
other hand he pressed his side; his eyes grew dim, and he sank into the
arms of his friends. The captain wiped his sword carefully, gave it to
me, and dressed himself with the most perfect composure. 'I have the
honour to wish you good-morning, gentlemen: had you not sung
yesterday, you would not have had to weep to-day;' and thus saying, he
went towards his boat. ''Tis the seventeenth!' he murmured; 'but this
was easy work--a mere greenhorn from the fencing-schools of Paris.
'Twas a very different thing when I had to do with the old Bonapartist
officers, those brigands of the Loire.' But it is quite impossible to
translate into another language the fierce energy of this speech. Arrived
at the port, he threw the boatman a few pieces of silver, saying: 'Here,
Peter; here's something for you.'

'Another requiem and a mass for a departed soul, at the church of St
Géneviève--is it not so, captain? But that is a matter of course.' And
soon after we reached the dwelling of the captain.
The little negro brought us a cold pasty, oysters, and two bottles of vin
d'Artois. 'Such a walk betimes gives an appetite,' said the captain gaily.
'How strangely things fall out!' he continued in a serious tone. 'I have
long wished to draw the crape veil from before that picture, for you
must know I only deem myself worthy to do so when I have sent some
Jacobin or Bonapartist into the other