University of Virginia Library

I.

“You insulted a lady in my presence yesterday evening, and I demand
from you a retraction of all that you uttered. I am not skilled in
writing, but you will understand me. The friend who bears this will
bring your answer.

II.

“For you know you begin `Mr. Hoffland!' as if you said, `Stand
and deliver!'—I have read your note, and I am sure I shan't be able to
write half as well. I am so young that, unfortunately, I have never had
an affair, which is a great pity, for I would then know how to write
beautiful long sentences that no one could possibly fail to understand.

“You demand a retraction, your note says. I do n't like `demand'—

it's such an ugly word, you know; and if you change the letters slightly,
it makes a very bad, shocking word, such as is used by profane young
men. Then `retraction' is so hard. For you know I said I was handsome:
must I take back that? Then I said that I could not marry
the lady we quarrelled about: must I say I can? I can't tell a story,
and I assure you on my honor—yes, Mr. Denis! on my sacred word of
honor as a gentleman!—that I cannot marry Lucy!

“You see I can't take it back, and if you were to eat me up I
could n't say I did n't say it.

“To think how angry you were!

III.

“Your note is not satisfactory at all. I did not quarrel with your
opinion of yourself, and you know it. I was not foolish enough to be
angry at your declaring that you wer engaged to some lady already.
You spoke of a lady who is my friend, and what you said was insulting.

“I say again that I am not satisfied.

IV.

“Stop!—I didn't say I was engaged to any lady: no misunderstanding.

V.

“I do not understand your note. You evade my request for an explanation.
I think, therefore, that the shortest way will be to end the
matter at once.

“The friend who brings you this will make all the arrangements.

VI.

“Oh, Mr. Denis, to shoot me in cold blood! Well, never mind! Of
course it's a challenge. But who in the world will be my `friend'?
Please advise me. You know Ernest ought not to—decidedly. He
likes you, and you seemed to like Miss Lucy, who must be a very sweet
girl as she is Ernest's sister. Therefore, as I have no other friend but
Ernest, I should think we might arrange the whole affair without
troubling him. I have been talking with some people, and they say I
have `the choice of weapons'—because you challenged me, you know.
I would rather fight with a sword, I think, than be shot, but I think we
had better have pistols. I therefore suggest pistols, and I have been
reading all about fighting, and can lay down the rules.

“1. The pistols shall be held by the principals with the muzzles
down, not more than six inches from the right toe—pointing that way,
I mean.

“2. The word shall be `Fire! One, Two, Three!' and if either fire
before `one' or after `three,' he shall be immediately killed. For you
know it would be murder, and ours is a gentlemanly affair of honor.

“3. The survivor, if he is a bachelor, shall marry the wife of the one
who falls. You are a bachelor, I believe, and so am I: thus this will
not be very hard, and for my part I'm very glad; I shouldn't like to
marry a disconsolate widow. I think we could fight on the college
green, and Dr. Small might have a chair placed for him under the big
tree to look on from—near his door, you know.

VII.

“Your note is very strange. You ask me to advise you whom to
take as your second; and then you lay down rules which I never
heard of before. I suppose a gentleman can right his grievances without
having to fight first and marry afterwards. What you write is so
much like joking, that I do n't know what to make of it. You seem to
be very young and inexperienced, sir, and you say you have no friend
but Mowbray.

“I'm obliged to you for your delicacy about Mowbray, but I cannot
take it upon myself to advise any one else.—I hardly know how to write
to you, for the whole thing seems a joke to you. If you were jesting in
what you said, say so, sir, and we can shake hands. I do n't want to
take your blood for a joke, and especially as you are a stranger here.

VIII.

“Joking, my dear fellow? Of course I was joking! Did you think
I really was in earnest when I said that I was so handsome, and was engaged
already, et cetera, and so forth, as one of my friends used to say?
I was jesting! For on my sacred word of honor, I am not engaged to
any one—and yet I could not marry Lucy. I am wedded already—to
my own ideas! I am not my own master—and yet I have no mistress!

“But I ought not to be tiring you in this way. Why did n't you
ask me if I was joking at first? Of course I was! I was laughing all
the time and teasing you. It's enough to make me die a-laughing to
think we were going to murder each other for joking. I was plaguing
you! for I saw at once from what you said that you were hopelessly
in——well, well! I won't tell your secrets.

IX.

“I am very glad you were joking, and I am glad you have said so
with manly courtesy—though I am at a loss to understand why you
wished to `tease' me. But I do n't take offence, and am sure the whole
matter was a jest. I hope you will not jest with me any more upon
such a subject—I am very hasty; and my experience has told me that
most men that fall in duels, are killed for this very jesting.

“As to what you say about my admiring Miss Mowbray, it is true in
some degree, and I am not offended. As far as my part goes, we are as
good friends as ever.

X.

“Your apology is perfectly satisfactory.—But I forgot! I made
the apology myself! Well, it's all the same, and I am glad we have n't
killed each other—for then, you know, we would have been dead now.

“Come round this evening to my lodging—one corner from Gloucester
street, by the college, you know—and we'll empty a jolly bottle, get
up a game of ombre with Mowbray, and make a night of it. Oh! I
forgot!—my key has disappeared: I do n't see it any where, and so, to
my great regret, your visit must be deferred. What a pity!

“We shall meet this evening, when we shall embrace each other—
figuratively—and pledge everlasting friendship.