San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1888-08-18
STORY OF A DUEL.

II remember IL, said our old friend, aS
though it had happened yesterday. was a
youngster then; am getting to be an old
man now, but shall never forget it-never
Poor lad, poor ladr'
was about five-and-twenty, and on my
travels for the first time. In leisurely
fashion had traversed France and Belgium,
and crossing the German frontier had
reached and taken up my abode for twenty
four hours in a small town with river and
a bridge; confused mass of red rooted
houses, with shelterirg forest covered hills
that favored and shut in its remoteness from
the common highway. 1t was one of those
places whose antique air, inherited straight
from the Middle Ages, charms and invites the
paSSer by; the inn charmed me also, a gabled
house on the old market place, with a
fruitful garden reaching down to the river
at the back. The town was not unknown to
tourists, but lying apart from the usual
track, it was little frequented; and for one
reason or another the inn, when l arrived,
was almost empty. 1t depended for its pros
perity, however, less on the custom of passing
strangers than on its clientele of commercial
Travellers and on the excellent ordinary it
provided for the townSpeOple and the officers
of the small town garrison. The table dhote,
fouEl-for my stay was prolonged from
the one day l had proposed to four or five
was always full The guests came dropping
il enc by one hanging each his cloak and hat
on peg by the door, and with a friendly
greeting to one and another, took each his
accustomed seat at the liberal board Each
tucked a napkin under his chin; men and
maids few round the table; a clatter Of
plates and tongues began. The scene amused
me, don't know why; through its novelty,
| suppose.
On the evening of the second day, return
ing from some excursion in tho neighborhood,
too late for the public meal, my supper was
served in a small room adjoining the salle-a-
manger. A door communicated between the
two apartments; it was closed, but sound
Of talking acquainted me that though the
table d'hote might be over, the guests were
not yet all dispersed. Some dispute was APP
parently in progress l could distinguish no
words; the speakers, as judged, were at the
further end of the long adjoining room; but
the raised and vehement voices, sort Of
angry clamor, rising and falling, argued a
quarrel of some kind. Presently the clamor
fell the voices died away, amid a scraping Of
chairs on the wooden floor; silence succeeded
had nearly finished my supper, coffee had
Deeu Drought, anu was W ilSuG u
cigar, when the door between the rooms was
thrown open and a young man entered
Without noticing my presence, he flung him.
self into chair against the wall and sat
motionleSs
He was q mere lad not above twenty, de-
ctied on considering him more attentively,
boy with light, shining hair, fair COM
plexion and girlish delicacy of feature; a
e. Gol
manhood He was dressed i'll light colored
tourist suit; there was nothing remarkable
in his appearance, nothing to distinguish
him especially from any other fresh young
fellow abroad on his travels; but something
in his attitude, as he sat without movement
in the chair into which he had flung himself,
arrested my attention. He sat with his legs
stretched out, his hands thrust into his pock-
cts, his head dropped on his breast His
face, which should naturally, l imagine,
wear the pink and white complexion
proper to fair haired youth, was empty
of even tinge of color, his brows were
drawn together; he looked miserable, over
whelmed, desperate; could not tell how he
looked He might, conjectured, have been
losing money in some bet or game of chance
"a man who has left his fortune at gam
sion. Twice l thought of addressing him;
but was deferred by his complete uncon-
sciouspess of my presence and by my igno-
rance IL his nationality; for had no better
slsll in languages than an imperfect knowl
edge of French and a still more stumbling
acquaintance with German. finished my
coffee, therefore, in silence, and as heestiil
made no sign, took up my hat and silently
left the room.
On the way through the hall, accosted
the gray haired head waiter, an old man,
grown Old in the service of the inn, and
asked him if he knew anything about the
young fellow. He was an Englishman, the
man answered: and opened the visitors
books to show me his name. His name was
there, Charles Holmes, of Foxhome, Surrey,
England, and Magdalen college, Oxford; he
had arrived the previous night; he had come
from Frankfort; he was on his way to Brus-
sels-all this inscribed with boyish love Of
detail in a round, boyish hand. He was a
fellow countryman then, and alone appar-
emily; for, with the exception Of my own
name, none other of English nationality
appeared on the list for many days
back. His pale look as he dropped into his
chair passed before my eyes Almost ]
turned back into the little parlor to speak
to him; and wish had wish to heaven
I had-all might have turned out differently.
But the indomitable stupidity and reserve Of
an Englishman stood IN my way, and instead
Of going back addressed the waiter again.
Had there been any quarrel, / inquired,
among the guests at the supper table that
EVENING" BE shrugged hisshouldsrs. "POs-
ayhlN,-nossihiV y hA aaidt cha had hard