The Princess Passes Part 29

"Oh, Man, do you really mean that?"

"Every word of it. I wouldn't give up a talk with you for a kiss from the Contessa, of which, by the way, I'm very unlikely to have the chance. But you----"

"I've been miserable for the last few days. I--I missed you, Man."

"And I you, Boy."

"What an awful pity it is I've got to stand up and be shot, just as we're good friends again, and everything's all right!"

"You've got to do nothing of the sort. _Le cher_ Paolo will, if he is really in earnest and not bluffing, send his friend to me, and matters will be settled, never fear."

"I don't fear. At least, I--hope I don't--much. Only I wasn't brought up to expect challenges to duels. They're not--in my line. But I won't apologise, whatever happens. No, I won't, I won't, _I won't_. I dare say it doesn't hurt much, being shot; and I suppose he wouldn't be so--so impolite as to shoot me in the face, would he?"

"He is not going to shoot you anywhere," said I.

"I am glad I told you. I was feeling--rather queer. What am I to do?

Am I to go back to the villa as if nothing had happened, or--what?"

"'What' might mean coming to my hotel, but you seemed to find my society a bore."

"That's unkind. It was your own fault that I went to a different hotel at Chatelard."

"How do you make that out?"

"I can't tell you. I don't suppose you'll ever know. But if you should guess, by-and-bye, remembering something you once said, you might understand."

"Something I once said----"

"Never mind. Please don't talk of it. I'd rather be shot at. But I want you to believe that my reason wasn't the one you thought. Now, tell me what you're going to do about Signor di Nivoli. Have you made a plan?"

"One has popped into my head," I replied. "It mayn't answer, but will you give me _carte blanche_ to try? If it doesn't work, I'll get you out of the mess in another way. But this would give us a chance of making Paolo eat humble pie."

"Do try it, then. I'd risk a lot for that."

"As for to-night, on the whole I think the best thing will be for you to go back to the villa. Of course we mustn't let the Contessa suspect----"

"Little cat! I wouldn't give her the satisfaction."

"Upon my word, you're not very gallant."

"I don't care. I'm sick of the Contessa. A plague upon her, and all her houses. Yet, I wish her nothing worse than that she should marry Paolo. Ugh! A man with his hair _en brosse_!"

"Probably he is saying, 'Ugh! a boy with curls on his collar.'"

"May one of his old balloons fly away with him, before he shoots me.

Anyhow, he shall find that curls don't make a coward. Only--there's just one thing before you treat with him. I won't--I _can't_--be jabbed at with anything sharp."

"You shan't," said I.

With this, the Contessa beckoned from a distance, with news that she was going home. We followed, the Boy and I, allowing her to walk far ahead, with her triumphant aeronaut, the Baron and Baronessa, radiant with satisfaction in the success of their plot, arm in arm between the two couples.

Having seen my little Daniel to the gate of the Lions' Den, I shook hands cordially with everybody, Paolo last of all. He placed his fingers with haughty reluctance in my ostentatiously proffered palm, but I held the four chilly, fish-like things (chilly only for me) long enough to mutter, _sotto voce_: "I want a word with you on a matter of importance. I'll walk up and down the road for twenty minutes."

His impulse was to refuse, I could see by the sharp upward toss of his chin. But a certain quality in my look, clearly visible to him in the light of the gate lamp (I was at some pains to produce the effect), warned him that if his bloodthirsty plans were not to be nipped in the red bud, he must bend his will to mine in this one instance.

He answered with a glance, and I knew that I should not be kept long on my beat.

CHAPTER XXII

An American Custom

"Oh, have it your own way; I am too old a hand to argue with young gentlemen, ... I have too much experience, thank you."--R.L. STEVENSON.

Five minutes, ten minutes pa.s.sed, after the farewells. Then, as I sauntered by on the other side of the way, I heard the sound of a foot on gravel, and Paolo di Nivoli appeared under the gate light. There he paused, expecting me to cross to him, but I allotted him the part of Mahomet and selected for myself that of the Mountain. Shrugging his square shoulders, he came striding over the road to me; and I had scored one small victory. I hoped that I might take it for an omen.

"I do not understand the nature of this appointment, Monsieur," began the Italian. "I intended to send my friend Captain de Sales to you to----"

"Ah, yes, that is the Continental way in these little affairs," I ventured to interrupt him coolly. "On our side of the Channel we are rather ignorant on such matters, I fear. But my young friend Mr.

Laurence is an American."

"Do you mean that he will refuse to fight, after insulting me?" asked Paolo, bristling.

"Not at all. He is very young, and this will be his first duel. He may have misunderstood your intentions. But I gathered from him that you had said he would have to fight; that you then requested him to name a friend to whom you could send a friend of yours----"

"This is the fact. There was no misunderstanding. He named you."

"Yes; but as I said, he is an American."

"What of that, since he will fight?"

"As a duellist yourself, no doubt a successful one, you must be aware that such matters are conducted differently in the States."

"I know nothing of that. I know only our own ways, which are good enough for me."

"But my friend, being the challenged party, has the right, I believe, to choose the manner of duel."

"That will be arranged between you and my friend, according to the choice of Mr. Laurence."

"I must ask you to go slowly, just at this point. In the States, it is against the duelling code to have the details arranged by the friends of the princ.i.p.als. It is the princ.i.p.als themselves who do all that, and for the best of reasons. But as Mr. Laurence is a boy, and you are a man, it is but right that I should speak with you for him. You needn't send Captain de Sales to me. We are man to man, and in ten minutes we can have everything settled with fairness to both parties."

"This is a new idea, Monsieur, and I confess it does not commend itself to me," said Paolo.

"I suppose, however, you are anxious to fight?"

"_Sacre bleu_, but yes. The little jackanapes called me a donkey, and he had the impudence to allude to my invention as a 'balloon,' adding that there was little to choose between it and my head. _Ciel!_ Do I wish to fight?"