University of Virginia Library

9. CHAPTER IX.

“I have myself,” said Kreutzner, “witnessed
many duels; but we are not so bloodthirsty, generally
speaking, as you moral Americans. We
usually settle these matters with a sword, a better
method, by-the-way, and more worthy of a soldier
than your cold, murderous pistol-firing. Any poltron
may pull a trigger, but it requires the firm
hand and steady eye of a man to manage the steel.
However, as I was saying, when I was at Jena
they called each other out as merrily as beaux and
belles to a dance. It was but the treading on a
toe—the brushing of an elbow; nay, an accidental
look that fell on them when they wished not observation,
and the next day, or, by St. Andrew, the
next hour, there was the clash of steel, and the
stamping of feet on the greensward; and the kindling
and flashing of fiery eyes—and plunge and
parry, and cut and thrust, till one or both lay stretched

at length—a pass through the body—a gash
open in the cheek—the scull cleft down, or a hand
off, and the blood bubbling and gushing forth like
a rill of mountain water. There were more than
one of those fellows—devils, I must say, who, when
they found among them some strange student,
timid or retired, whose character they were unacquainted
with, or whose courage they doubted,
would pass the hint out of mere sport—brush his
skirt—charge the offence upon him—demand an
apology too humble for a hare, and dismiss him
from the adventure only with an opened shoulder,
or daylight through his body.”

“The ruffians!” cried Norman.

“Not in the least,” returned Kreutzner, laughing;
“you would have loved them, like brothers,
had you known their hearts. It is all education
and custom.”

“But to the story, Kreutzner.”

“There was among us one fellow named Mentz,
who assumed, and wore with impunity, the character
of head bully. He was foremost in all the
deviltry. His pistol was death, and his broad-sword
cut like the scissors of fate. It was curious
to see the fellow fire—one, two, three, and good-by
to his antagonist. His friendship was courted by
all; for to be his enemy was to lie in a bloody
grave. At length, grown fearless of being called
to account, he took pride in insulting strangers—
and even women. His appearance was formidable:
a great burly giant, with shaggy black hair,
huge whiskers, and grim mustaches, three inches
long, twirled under his nose. A sort of beauty he
had too: and among the women—Lord help us—
wherever those mustaches showed themselves,
every opponent abandoned the ground. It was, at
last, really dangerous to have a sweetheart; for out

of pure bravado, Mentz would push forward, make
love to the lady, frighten her swain, and either terrify
or fascinate herself. Should the doomed lover
offer resistance, he had no more to do but call a
surgeon; and happy enough he considered himself
if he escaped with the loss of an ear or an eye.
He had killed four men who never injured him—
wounded seventeen, and fought twenty duels. He
once challenged a whole club, who had black-balled
him anonymously; and was pacified only
by being re-admitted, though all the members immediately
resigned, and the club was broken up.
I dwell on this character because—”

“Because you think he resembles Clairmont,”
said Norman; “go on, I am interested.”

“At last there came a youth into the university
—slender, quiet, and boyish-looking, with a handsome
face, though somewhat pale. His demeanour,
though generally shy, was noble and self-possessed.
He had been but a short time among us,
however, before he was set down as a cowardly
creature, and prime game for the `devils broke
loose,' as the gang of Mentz termed themselves.
The coy youth shunned all the riots and revels of
the university—insulted no one; and if his mantle
brushed against that of another, apologized so immediately,
so gracefully, and so gently, that the
devil himself could not have fixed a quarrel upon
him. It soon appeared, too, that Gertrude, the
lovely daughter of the Baron de Saale—the toast
of all the country—upon whom the most of us had
gazed as on something quite above us—it soon
appeared that the girl loved this youthful stranger.
Now Mentz had singled Gertrude out for himself,
and avowed his preference publicly. Arnold, for
thus was the new student called, was rarely, if
ever, tempted to our feasts; but once he came

unexpectedly on a casual invitation. To the great
surprise and interest of the company, Mentz himself
was there, and seated himself, unabashed, at
the table, though an unbidden guest. The strongest
curiosity at once arose to witness the result;
for Mentz had sworn that he would compel Arnold,
on their first meeting, to beg pardon on his
knees for the audacity of having addressed his
mistress. It had not appeared that Arnold knew
any thing of Mentz's character, for he sat cheerfully
and gayly at the board, with so much the manners
of a high-born gentleman, that every one admitted
at once his goodness, his intelligence, his grace,
and his beauty; and regretted the abyss on the
brink of which he unconsciously stood.

“ `What, ho!' at length shouted Mentz, as the
evening had a little advanced, and the wine began
to mount: `a toast! Come—drink it all; and he
who refuses is a poltron and a coward. I quaff
this goblet—fill to the brim—to the health and
happiness of Gertrude de Saale—the fairest of the
fair! Who says he knows a fairer is a black liar,
and I will write the word on his forehead with a
redhot brand.'

“Never before had even Mentz betrayed his
brutal soul so grossly in words; but the guests,
who knew that he was heated with wine, passed
over his coarse insult with shouts of laughter, and
drank, with riotous confusion, to Gertrude, fairest
of the fair. As the gleaming goblets were emptied,
and dashed rattling down again upon the table,
Mentz arose, and, with the bloated importance of
a despot, gazed around to see that all present had
fulfilled his orders. Every goblet was emptied
but one, which stood untasted—untouched. On
perceiving this, the ruffian, leaning forward, fixed
his eyes on the cup, struck his brawny hand down

fiercely on the table, which returned a thundering
clash and rattle, and then repeated, in a voice husky
with rage—

“ `There is a cup full: by St. Anthony! I will
make the owner swallow its measure of molten
lead, if it remain thus one instant longer!”

“ `Drink it, Arnold—drink it, boy; keep thy
hand out of useless broils,' whispered a student
near him, rather advanced in age.

“ `Drink, friend!' muttered another, dryly, `or
he will not be slow in doing his threat. I promise
thee—'

“ `Empty the cup, man!' cried a third; `never
frown and turn pale, or thy young head will lie
lower than thy feet ere to-morrow's sunset.'

“ `It is Mentz the duellist,' said a fourth. `Dost
thou not know his wondrous skill? He will kill
thee as if thou wert a deer, if thou oppose him in
his wine. He is more merciless than a wild boar.
Drink, man, drink!'

“These good-natured suggestions were uttered
in hasty and vehement whispers; and, while the
students were thus endeavouring to palliate the
bloody catastrophe, the furious beast again struck
his giant hand down violently on the table, without
speaking, as if words were too feeble for his rage.

“During this interesting scene, the youth had
remained motionless, cool, and silent. A slight
pallour, but evidently more of indignation than fear,
came over his handsome features; and his eyes
dilated with emotion, resting full and firm upon
Mentz.

“ `By the mass, gentlemen!' he said at length,
`I am a stranger here, and ignorant of the manners
prevalent in universities; but if yonder person be
sane, and this no joke—'

“ `Joke!' thundered Mentz, foaming at the lip,

“ `I must tell you that I come from a part of the
country where we neither give nor take such jokes
or such insults.'

“ `Hast thou taken leave of thy friends?' said
Mentz, partly hushed by astonishment; `and art
thou tired of life, that thou hurriest on so blindly to
a bloody pillow! Boy! drink, as I have told thee,
to Gertrude, fairest of the fair!' And his huge
round eyes opened like those of a bull upon a
daring victim.

“ `That Gertrude de Saale is fair and lovely,'
cried the youth, rising, `may not be denied by me.
But—I demand by what mischance I find her
name this night common at a board of rioters, and
polluted by the lips of a drunkard and a ruffian?'

“ `By the bones of my father,' said Mentz, in a
tone of deep and dire anger, which had ere then
appalled many a stout heart—`by the bones of my
father, your doom is sealed! Be your blood on
your own head. But,' said he, observing that the
youth, instead of cowering, bore himself more
loftily, `what folly is this! Drink, lad, drink! and
I hurt thee not! I love thy gallant bearing, and my
game is not such as thou.'

“He added this with a wavering of manner which
had never before been witnessed in him, for never
before had he been opposed so calmly and so
fiercely; and, for a moment, he quailed beneath
the fiery glances darted at him from one whom he
supposed meeker than the dove. But, ashamed
of his transient fear, he added:—

“ `Come to me, poor child! Bring with thee thy
goblet—bend at my foot—quaff it as I have said,
and—out of pity, I spare thy young head.'

“What was the astonishment of the company
on beholding Arnold, as if effectually awed by a
moment's reflection, and the ferocious enmity of so

celebrated and deadly a foe, actually do as he was
commanded. He rose, took the cup, slowly approached
the seat of his insulter—knelt and raised
the rim to his lips. Murmurs of `Shame, shame,
poltron, coward!' came hot and thick from the
group of spectators, who had arisen in the excitement
of their curiosity, and stood eagerly bending
forward, with every eye fixed upon the object of
their contempt. A grim smile of savage triumph
distorted the features of Mentz, who shouted, with
a hoarse and drunken laugh—

“ `Drink deep—down with it—to the dregs!'

“Arnold, however, only touched the rim to his
lips, and waited a moment's silence, with an expression
so scornful and composed that the hisses
and exclamations were again quelled; when every
sound had ceased to a dead silence—

“ `Never,' he said, `shall I refuse to drink to the
glory of a name I once loved and honoured—Gertrude,
fairest of the fair! But,' he added, suddenly
rising, and drawing up his figure with a dignity that
silenced every breath, `for thee, thou drunken, bragging,
foolish beast! I scorn—I spit upon—I defy
thee! and—thus be punished thy base, brutal insolence,
and thy stupid presumption.'

“As he spoke he dashed the contents of the ample
goblet full into the face of Mentz; and then,
with all his strength, hurled the massy goblet itself
at the same mark. The giant reeled and staggered
a few paces back; and amid the shining liquor on
his drenched clothes and dripping features, a stream
of blood was observed to trickle down his forehead.

“Never before was popular feeling more suddenly
and violently reversed. The object of their
vilest execrations flashed upon them with the immediate
brightness of a superior being. A loud

and irrepressible burst of applause broke from every
lip, till the broad and heavy rafters above their
heads, and the very foundations of the floor, shook
and trembled. But the peal of joy and approbation
soon ceased; for, although this inspiring drama
had so nobly commenced, it was uncertain how
it might terminate. Before the tyrant recovered
from the stunned and bewildered trance into which
the blow, combined with shame, grief, astonishment,
and drunkenness, had thrown him, several
voices, after the obstreperous calls for silence usual
on such occasions, addressed the youth, who stood
cool and erect, with folded arms, waiting the course
of events.

“ `Brave Arnold! Noble Arnold! A gallant
deed! The blood of a true gentleman in his
veins!'

“ `But, canst thou fight?' cried one.

“ `I am only a simple student, and an artist by
profession. I have devoted myself to the pencil—
not the sword.'

“ `But thou canst use it a little—canst not?' asked
another.

“ `But indifferently,' answered the youth.

“ `And how art thou with the pistol?' demanded
a third.

“ `My hand is unpractised,' replied Arnold. `I
have no skill in shedding human blood.'

“ `'Fore God! then, rash boy, what has tempted
thee to this fatal extremity?'

“ `Hatred of oppression,' replied the youth, `in
all its forms; and a willingness to die rather than
submit to insult.'

“ `Die then thou shalt! and that ere to-morrow's
sun shall set!' thundered Mentz, starting up in a
phrensy; and with a hoarse and broken voice, that
made the hearts of the hearers shudder as if at the

howl of a dog or a demon. `I challenge thee to
mortal combat.'

“ `And I accept the challenge.'

“ `It is for thee to name time, place, and weapon;
but, as thou lovest me, let it not be longer than tomorrow
night, or I shall burst with rage and impatience.'

“ `I love thee not, base dog!' replied Arnold;
`but thou shalt not die so inglorious a death. I
will fight with thee, therefore, to-night.'

“ `By the mother of Heaven, boy!' cried Mentz,
more and more surprised, `thou art in haste to sup
in hell!' and the ruffian lowered his voice. `Art
thou mad?'

“ `Be that my chance,' answered Arnold; `I
shall not be likely to meet, even in hell, a companion
so brutal as thou—unless, which I mean shall
be the case, thou bear me company.'

“ `To-night then be it,' said Mentz; `though to-night
my hand is not steady; for wine and anger
are no friends to the nerves.'

“ `Dost thou refuse, then?' demanded the youth,
with a sneer.

“ `By the mass, no! but to-night is dark; the
moon is down; the stars are clouded; and the wind
goes by in heavy puffs and gusts. Hear it even
now.'

“ `Therefore,' said the youth, apparently more
coldly composed as his fierce rival grew more perceptibly
agitated—`therefore will we lay down our
lives here—in this hall—on this spot—on this instant—even
as thou standest now.'

“ `There is no one here who will be my friend,'
said Mentz; so evidently sobered and subdued by
the singular composure and self-possession of his
antagonist, that all present held him in contempt,
and no one stirred.

“ `No matter,' cried Arnold; `I will myself
forego the same privilege.'

“ `And your weapons?' said Mentz.

“ `Are here,' cried Arnold, drawing them from
his bosom; `a surer pair never drew blood. The
choice is yours.'

“The company began now to fancy that Arnold
had equivocated in disclaiming skill as a duellist;
and from his invincible composure thought him a
more fatal master of the weapon than the bully
himself. The latter also partook of this opinion.

“ `Young man,' he cried, in a voice clouded and
low; but stopped, and said no further.

“ `Your choice!' said Arnold, presenting the
pistols.

“Mentz seized one desperately, and said—

“ `Now name your distance.'

“ `Bloodthirsty wolf!' said Arnold, `there shall
be no distance!' He then turned and addressed
the company.

“ `Gentlemen,' he said, `deem me not either savage
or insane, that I sacrifice myself and this brutal
wretch thus before your eyes, and to certain and
instant destruction. For me, I confess I have no
value in life. Her whom I loved I have sworn to
forget; and, if I existed a thousand years, should
probably never see again. This ruffian is a coward,
and fears to die, though he does not fear daily to
merit death. I have long heard of his baseness,
and regard him as an assassin—the enemy of the
human race and of God—a dangerous beast—
whom it will be a mercy and a virtue to destroy.
My own life I would well be rid of, but would not
fling it away idly when its loss may be made subservient
to the destruction of vice and the relief of
humanity. Here, then, I yield my breath; and
here too this trembling and shrinking craven shall

close his course of debauchery and murder. My
companions, farewell: should any one of you hereafter
chance to meet Gertrude de Saale, tell her I
nobly flung away a life which her falsehood had
made me despise. And now, recreant,' he said, in
a fierce tone, turning suddenly towards Mentz,
`plant thy pistol to my bosom, as I will plant mine
to thine. Let one of the company cry three, and
the third number be the signal to fire.'

“With an increased paleness in his countenance,
but with even more ferocity and firmness, Arnold
threw off his cap, displaying his high brow and
glossy ringlets. His lips were closed and firm;
and his eyes, which glistened with a deadly glare,
were fixed on Mentz. He then placed himself in
an attitude of firing; broadened his exposed chest
full before his foe; and with a stamp of fury and
impatience raised the weapon. The browbeaten
bully attempted to do the same; but the pistol,
held loosely in his grasp, whether by accident or
intention, went off before the signal. Its contents
passed through the garments of Arnold, who, levelling
the muzzle of his own, cried calmly—`On
your knees, base slave! vile dog!—down! or you
die!'

“Unable any longer to support his frame, the unmasked
coward sunk on both knees, and prayed for
life with right-earnest vehemence. Again wild
shouts of applause and delight, and peals of riotous
laughter, stunned his ears. As he rose from his
humiliating posture, Arnold touched him contemptuously
with his foot. Groans and hisses now began
to be mingled with several missives. Mentz
covered his face with his hands and rushed from
the room. He was never subsequently seen among
us.”

“And Arnold?” inquired Norman.

“Had been jilted, like many a good fellow before
him, and as most men are who have to do with
women. He was but a poor artist, after all; and
though my pretty mistress encouraged him at first,
taken by his person and manners, yet he was not
high enough for the daughter even of a baron.”

“And what became of Mentz?”

“That I know not. He, too, soon afterward
vanished. Thus we meet and part in this world.
But I shall never forget the shout when Mentz's
knees touched the floor. It seems to me that the
echoes may scarcely yet be quiet in the woods of
Saxony.”

“I understand the import of your story, Kreutzner,”
said Norman, after a moment's pause; “and
am glad to find you coincide with my own views.
It is my only chance, though a slender one. Fall
one, fall both. I will not be shot down with impunity
by this professed, cold-blooded duellist.”

Kreutzner received his instructions accordingly.