us make haste and get it over.'

"So lots were drawn for stations and for weapons. The lights were arranged, so far as possible, so as to favour neither of us. Still wearing our masks, but stripped of every trimming of our fancy costumes which could hinder the freedom of our movement, we advanced to the centre of the floor.

"The toss of the coin had given Jacques the direction of the combat. He made us cross our blades at the usual distance from each other, and gave the usual signal—

"'Allez, messieurs!"

"My antagonist could fence well. It was, no doubt, because of his skill with the small-sword that he had consented to this meeting. He meant to make it clear to me that he had spared my life, and then trust to my gratitude and my sense of honour to keep his secret. But though he was a good fencer, Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski was a better.

"You know the trick of fence which the French call enlacer le fer. After a cautious pass or two, I tried that, with the result that I whirled my opponent's sword out of his hand.

"'Try again, sir, when you are ready,' I said, lowering my point.

"He tried again, fighting more viciously this time, but with no more effect. Again he found himself in one corner of the room and his weapon in another.

"'Perhaps, sir, Fortune will be kinder to you the third time,' I suggested; and for the third time he advanced and faced me.

"This time I played with him longer. I took the ligne basse, which is always fatal, and withheld my lunge at the moment when he saw clearly, that, if I had chosen, I could have run him through. Not until nearly two minutes had elapsed did I give the quick turn of my wrist which disarmed him as before.

"Then I felt that I had sufficiently proved myself, and that the moment for my great coup had come.

"'Sir,' I said, bowing courteously to this proud prince, 'I honour you for your courage in this encounter with one who has the advantage over you in point of strength and skill. I could have unmasked you, or I could have killed you. Your life and your reputation have been equally at my mercy; and now I am willing to make you a free gift of both, on one condition.'

"The answer was brave enough.

"'I have asked no favour from you, sir.'

"'It is an easy condition, sir,' I continued, 'or I would not affront you by proposing it. I only ask your promise that, whatever may happen, whatever the provocation, you, as commander of the artillery, will never cause a gun to be fired upon the people of Paris.'

"He laughed. I imagine he thought he was dealing with a lunatic.

"'Is that all?' he said. 'I promise gladly. Nothing could be further from my wish than to use the guns of the French artillery against Frenchmen. Shall we now say "Good evening"?'

"He was going, but I stopped him.

"'Stay,' I said; 'it is necessary that I should have that in writing.'

"'My word, then,' he objected, 'is not enough for you?'

"'It is enough for me,' I answered; 'but I must have something to show to my friends in proof that I have executed the task which they entrusted to me. Here is the document to which I desire your signature.'

"I produced the slip of paper. These were the words upon it—

"'I, Louis Charles, Duc de Montpensier, in consideration of my life having been spared in fair fight by Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski, do hereby engage that in no event—not even in the event of revolution—will I, as commander of the artillery, cause or permit the cannon to be used against the people."

"'As witness my hand.'

"'Now, M. le Duc,' I said, as I handed it to him, 'if you will sign this document, I pledge my word of honour that the world shall know nothing of it so long as you are faithful to the undertaking which it expresses. On the other hand, if you prefer not to sign it, I am willing to renew the combat.'

"'If you prefer not to sign, I am willing to renew the combat."'"

"Yet again the prince stepped aside to confer with his companion. I caught odd words and phrases of their conversation—'Dangerous madman.' 'Official denial.' 'Only way out of it.' 'Avoid a scandal at all hazards.' But I affected not to hear, and waited.

"'Well, M. le Duc?' I said at last.

"He laughed again.

"'Well, well, suppose I sign? You have pen and ink there? Thank you. Even in the event of revolution? How ridiculous! As if there were any chance of another revolution in this country?'

"'Nevertheless, M. le Duc,' I answered, watching him as he wrote his name, and as both his masked friend and Jacques Durand witnessed the signature—'nevertheless, M. le Duc, the wise man is he who is prepared for all emergencies.'

*      *      *      *      *

"'We saluted ceremoniously, and drove away, this time in separate carriages; and most of what remains of my story is in the history books. All the world knows that the revolution came, as I anticipated, bursting like a thunderclap in a clear sky. All the world knows that King Louis Phillipe drove away from the Tuileries in a cab, and travelled to England under the alias of 'Mr. Smith,' hoping, as he explained, to pass as the head of the English family of that name. But just one new thing I can tell you—a thing that I learnt afterwards from one of the royal servants, a maid who waited upon the Duchesse de Montpensier and became a good Republican after the dynasty had fallen.

"'Ah, that scene!' she said to me. 'That terrible scene! Never shall I forget it!'

"'What scene, Babette?' I asked her.

"'What scene?' she repeated, and then described it to me.

"'It was on that dreadful morning when the news came to us that Paris had, as we said, gone mad, and the people were on their way from Saint Antoine to batter down the palace gates. I was alone with the Duchess, who was crying. I was trying to console her, telling her that the police would soon take all the wicked rioters to prison; and as I did this the door opened, and who should enter, unannounced, but Queen Marie Amélie herself. Ah, she was a woman of