The individual whom the marquis styled his
man, was a distinguished-looking personage,
young, handsome, and well dressed, and was
engaged in humming a lively tune while leisurely
pursuing his way, apparently indifferent to
everything around. He was much surprised
when, at a few yards from the corner of the
street, our bully advanced towards him and
saluted him with mock politeness. The young
man stopped suddenly, but, before he had time
to speak, the marquis, holding out his switch on
a level with his knees, said to him:

"I beg your pardon, sir, but give yourself
the trouble to jump over this."

The young man looked hard at his interrupter
for a moment, then smiled, and jumped
over the switch and, still smiling, went his way,
fully believing the marquis to be a lunatic.
This mistake simply saved his life. The
marquis on his part, stupefied at the charming
complacency shown by the young man in
so readily acquiescing in his demand, became
furious. His design had signally failed, and
might fail a second, and even a third time.
Under any circumstances all had to be gone
through again, and as it was necessary that he
should select his intended victim, he had to wait
before he could renew his experiment.

At length the wished for moment arrived.
While the marquis was looking towards the
Place de la Comédie, he observed, some
distance off, a young officer of the garrison
advancing along the footpath. This time
it was more than probable something serious
would result, and the marquis therefore made a
sign to his friends, so that they might be prepared
for any emergency. Each moment brought
the officer nearer to these three scoundrels. He
proved to be a young man about five-and-
twenty years of age, who was already a captain,
and consequently carried his head high. With
his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he
strolled along, with that easy carelessness which
is the soldier's privilege under all circumstances.

When he had arrived within a few yards
of the marquis, the latter advanced towards
him with his accustomed air of politeness, and
holding out his switch as he had done before,
repeated his invitation in these terms:

"Monsieur le Capitaine, be kind enough to
jump over this switch."

The officer halted and haughtily surveyed the
insolent individual before him from head to
foot, at first without the slightest symptom of
anger, but also without fear—in truth, he
was not quite certain that he had not a madman
to deal with. When the marquis observed this
temporary hesitation, he saw the officer was
prepared to resist him, and believing he
had found the man he wanted, drew himself
up, and in a haughty tone ordered him
to jump forthwith. Indignant at this insolent
provocation, the officer thought the proper
thing to do was to send the switch with a kick
into the middle of the road, and then to soundly
box the marquis's ears. The latter on being
struck more than once danced about and stormed,
and his rage prevented him from uttering a
single intelligible word. Meanwhile his two
accomplices endeavoured to appease him, for a
crowd had collected around. The young officer,
who had not lost his composure for a moment,
having given his address, prepared to elbow
his way through the throng, seemingly utterly
indifferent to the scrape in which he had
thoughtlessly involved himself.

The following day, about eight o'clock in the
morning, the Marquis de Lignano and his two
seconds repaired to a little wood in the
commune of Pessac, quite close to Bordeaux,
where they found their adversary of the night
before, who had brought with him two officers
and the doctor of his regiment. It had been
arranged that the duel should be fought with
the small-sword, and, on the part of the marquis,
it had been stipulated, that slight wounds
were not to count, and that the contest should
only terminate when one of them had fallen.
In short, enough blood was required to wipe
out the injuries which the marquis considered
he had sustained.

According to the universally recognised code
of the duel, from the moment when the seconds
place the swords in the hands of the two adversaries,
each combatant, no matter what may be
the reason that has brought them face to face,
is alike sacred against insult on the part of
the other. The Marquis de Lignano, nevertheless,
had the insolence to hold out his switch
again in front of his adversary, and to say to him,

"Monsieur le Capitaine, there is yet time.
Will you jump now?"

"Sir," replied the officer, coldly, "he who
insults his adversary on the ground is a
contemptible scoundrel."

"You will not jump, then? Well, all the
worse for you;" and with a rapid movement
he drew his switch across the officer's face.

The marquis's seconds laughed; as to the
officer's seconds and the doctor, they reddened
with indignation at having to do with such
scum of society.

The two opponents took up their positions.
The marquis was a peculiar, but not a first-rate,
swordsman. In order, therefore, that he might
finish off his adversary as quickly as possible,
he sought to tire him during the first two or
three minutes, harassing him with all manner
of feints until, overcome with fatigue, he should
lay himself open to an easy thrust. Watching
his opportunity, the marquis gave a terrible
lunge, which drove his sword right through the
unfortunate officer's body. The unhappy man
reeled back on the grass. The doctor placed
his hand upon his heart and found it had already
ceased to beat.

The dead man's seconds, overcome with grief,
grasped his hand for the last time; they were
both friends of his of long standing. One of
them, kneeling down, was about to close the
vacant eyes, when Lignano touched him on the
shoulder, and repeated in his ear the sinister
words: