The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1877-11-08
DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.
A Grandfather's Story.

still fingered at ST. Helena, and the ad-
venturcrs, good, bad and Indifferent in
character, who had served in his armies,
had not yet lost all hope of the return of
their idol, and, consequently, had not yet
thought it worth while to settle down
into thorough peace and qujetness:
Young Paul Ferrand, whom l fire.
quently met at the cafe, and who had
served as captain at Waterloo, was sure
that the Little Corporal would come back
again soon. "You have not yet beaten
him." he would tell me laughing. "You
sent him to Elba, but he returned you
have sent him to St. Helena, and he will
return again. We shall see.'
Ferrand was an exceedingly nice fel-
low; and, although he professed to cher,
ish al unquenchable hatred for England
and everything English, he had. by some
means or other, become attached to Alice
Rae, a young English lady of my ac-
quaintance, and who had been living
with her mother since the conclusion of
peace at Paris, not far from the abode of
the ex-captain. And he was always
very friendly with me, too. lie would,
it is true, abuse my ccuntrymen most
numerically, but he was always particu-
larly good natured; and, whenever he
found himself saying a little too much,
he would arrest himself and apologize so
heartily that l never could be angry with
him. I was alone in the French capital,
and had few friends there except Mrs
Rae, her daughter Alice and Paul; and
so it happened that passed good deal
of my time in the society of these three.
The mother, woman still in the prime
of life, and the widow of kings messen-
ger, was connection of mine by mar
riage and that fact gave me a good ex-
cuse for offering my services as escort
whenever she and her pretty daughter
thought fit to 60 to the theatre or the
opera. At such times Paul always had
a seat in the stalls, and between the acts
he would come up to my box, to the de-
light of Alice, who was in love with him,
and to the no small satisfaction of Mrs.
Rae, who herself had quite a maternal
affection for the young Frenchman, and
did not in the least discourage his atten-
tions to her daughter. If there were no
formal engagement between the two, it
was at least perfectly understood by all
parties that as soon as Paul should get
an appointment, for which at the time
he was candidate, he was to marry
Alice; and I, though only few years
her senior, was to give her away.
One night the opera-house was crowded
more than usual. A great singer was to
appear, and new work by renowned
composer was to be performed. But
Paul Ferrand, sitting in the stalls,
seemed scarcely to listen to the music or
to notice the acting, and much more often
were his eyes turned in the direction of
my box than in that of the stage. Alice
and her mother were with me, and, as
the curtain fell at the conclusion OF the
first act, Paul came up to us. He was in
high spirits, for he had heard that the
Minister had decided to give him the
coveted post, and he expected to hear in
few days that his appointment had
been signed by the King. We congratu-
lated him, and, as he left us to return to
his seat, 1 whispered to him: "Youll
be happy man in month or two now,
Paul" He smiled and shut the door.
We watched him as be threaded his
way to his place. 1t was in the center OF
the second row from the orchestra, and
he had left his opera-glasses on the chair
in order to preserve his right t. it; but
during his absence tall, military look
ing man had appropriated it, and had
coolly put the glasses on one side. Paul
approached the stranger with the utmost
poiiteness, and, l suppose, for naturally
I could not hear requested him to move.
The interloper did not deign to answer,
but sneerngly looked up at Ferrand, as
though to ask what he meant by his ln-
trusion. Paul pointed to the opera,
glasses; but the stranger neither replied
nor moved, but continued to appear as
though he did not hear. saw that mat
ters were assuming dangerous complex.
ion, for in the new conner l recognized
Victor Laroquire, an ex-Bonapartist otti-
Ger like Paul, a notorious bully, and one
of the most celebrated duelists in France.
But what could do? | could only sit
still, much against my will, and witness
the inevitable consequences. thought
Alice would faint when Laroquire in
the calmest way rose before the crowded
assemblage and struck Paul in the face
with his glove; but she recovered her
SELF and, like statue, watched her lover
pick up his opera-glassess, bow to his in
sulter, and without word leave the
building. There were some exclamations
from the audience; but the duelist again
rose, and with theatrical air gazed
round, mockingly initiated Paul's part
ing bow, and resumed his seat. This was
too much for poor Alice. She could not
remain any longer; she must go home;
and 80, with some difficulty, l got her
and her mother to my carriage, told the
coachmau to drive them home, and my
self walked quickly to Paul's lodgings.
He had arrived before me, and was
already writing when entered the room;
"Of course" he said, as he saw me, and
came towards me with both hands out
stretched, "you, my dear friend, will as
sist me- 1t is impossible to do anything
but fight. Even Alice could not make
me alter my conviction upon that point
the insult was so public"
"Suppose you leave the country% l
"Then I should have to give up the
appointment, and Alice, too. No, my
dear fellow, 1 am Frenchman, and l
must 6ght and you must arrange mat
tiers for me. If he shoots me, it cannot
be helped; if l shoot him, shall have
shot the biggest scoundrel in Paris. |
beg you to call upon Laroquire tonight.
1 have already discovered his address,.
Here it is"
"But must you really fight? 1t is
suicide to fight with professional duel
ist."
"Ah," said he, shaking his head, 81
am afraid it is suicide; but must tight,
so please don't try and persuade me that
I need not. And L will fight, too, as
soon as possible. You can arrange every
thing for tomorrow morning. | must
have the matter over. In a day or two |
| mirbt he q coward"