CHAPTER XIX.

by Alexandre Dumas

　　LUCIEN settled himself comfortably in his arm-chair and looking at mefixedly, resumed:--"It is very simple. The day my brother was killed I was riding veryearly, and went out to visit the shepherds, when soon after I hadlooked at my watch and replaced it in my pocket, I received a blow inthe side, so violent that I fainted. When I recovered I found myselflying on the ground in the arms of the Orlandini, who was bathing myface with water. My horse was close by."'Well,' said Orlandini, 'what has happened?'"'I know no more about it than you do. Did you not hear a gun fired?'"'No.'"'It appears to me that I have received a ball in the side,' and I putmy hand upon the place where I felt pain."'In the first place,' replied he 'there has been no shot fired, andbesides, there is no mark of a bullet on your clothes.'"'Then,' I replied, 'it must be my brother who is killed.'"'Ah, indeed,' he replied, 'that is a different thing.' I opened mycoat and I found a mark, only at first it was quite red and not blueas I showed you just now."For an instant I was tempted to return to Sullacaro, feeling so upsetboth mentally and bodily, but I thought of my mother, who did notexpect me before supper time, and I should be obliged to give her areason for my return, and I had no reason to give."On the other hand, I did not wish to announce my brother's death toher until I was absolutely certain of it. So I continued my way, andreturned home about six o'clock in the evening."My poor mother received me as usual. She evidently had no suspicionthat anything was wrong."Immediately after supper, I went upstairs, and as I passed throughthe corridor the wind blew my candle out."I was going downstairs to get a light when, passing my brother'sroom, I noticed a gleam within."I thought that Griffo had been there and left a lamp burning."I pushed open the door; I saw a taper burning near my brother's bed,and on the bed my brother lay extended, naked and bleeding."I remained for an instant, I confess, motionless with terror, then Iapproached."I touched the body, he was already dead."He had received a ball through the body, which had struck in the sameplace where I had felt the blow, and some drops of blood were stillfalling from the wound."It was evident to me that my brother had been shot."I fell on my knees, and leaning my head against the bed, I prayedfervently."When I opened my eyes again the room was in total darkness, the taperhad been extinguished, the vision had disappeared."I felt all over the bed, it was empty."Now I believe I am as brave as most people, but when I tottered outof that room I declare to you my hair was standing on end and theperspiration pouring from my forehead."I went downstairs for another candle. My mother noticed me, anduttered a cry of surprise."'What is the matter with you,' she said, 'and why are you so pale?'"'There is nothing the matter,' I replied, as I returned upstairs."This time the candle was not extinguished. I looked into my brother'sroom; it was empty."The taper had completely disappeared, nor was there any trace of thebody on the bed."On the ground was my first candle, which I now relighted."Notwithstanding this absence of proof, I had seen enough to beconvinced that at ten minutes past nine that morning my brother hadbeen killed. I went to bed in a very agitated frame of mind."As you may imagine, I did not sleep very well, but at length fatigueconquered my agitation and I got a little rest."Then all the circumstances came before me in the form of a dream. Isaw the scene as it had passed. I saw the man who had killed him. Iheard his name. He is called M. de Chateau Renaud.""Alas! that is all too true," I replied; "but what have you come toParis for?""I have come to kill the man who has killed my brother.""To kill him?""Oh, you may rest assured, not in the Corsican fashion from behind awall or through a hedge, but in the French manner, with white gloveson, a frilled shirt, and white cuffs.""And does Madame de Franchi know you have come to Paris with thisintention?""She does.""And she has let you come?""She kissed me, and said, 'Go.' My mother is a true Corsican.""And so you came.""Here I am.""But your brother would not wish to be avenged were he alive.""Well, then," replied Lucien, smiling bitterly, "he must have changedhis mind since he died."At this moment the valet entered, carrying the supper tray.Lucien ate like a man without a care in the world.After supper I showed him to his room. He thanked me, shook me by thehand, and wished me good-night.Next morning he came into my room as soon as the servant told him Iwas up."Will you accompany me to Vincennes?" he said. "If you are engaged Iwill go alone.""Alone!" I replied. "How will you be able to find the spot?""Oh, I shall easily recognize it. Do you not remember that I saw it inmy dream?"I was curious to know how far he was correct in this. "Very well," Isaid, "I will go with you.""Get ready, then, while I write to Giordano. You will let Victor takethe note for me, will you not?""He is at your disposal.""Thank you."Ten minutes afterwards the letter was despatched. I then sent for acabriolet and we drove to Vincennes.When we reached the cross-paths Lucien said, "We are not far off now,I think.""No; twenty paces further on we shall be at the spot where we enteredthe forest.""Here we are," said the young man, as he stopped the carriage.It was, indeed, the very spot!Lucien entered the wood without the least hesitation, and as if he hadknown the place for years. He walked straight to the dell, and whenthere turned to the eastward, and then advancing he stopped at theplace where his brother had fallen: stooping down he perceived thegrass wore the red tinge of blood."This is the place," he said.Then he lightly kissed the spot where his brother had lain.Rising with flashing eyes he paced the dell to the spot whence ChateauRenaud had fired."This is where he stood," he said, stamping his foot, "and here heshall lie to-morrow.""How!" I exclaimed. "To-morrow!""Yes, unless he is a coward. For to-morrow he shall give me myrevenge.""But, my dear Lucien," I said, "the custom in France is, as you areaware, that a duel cannot take place without a certain reason. ChateauRenaud called out your brother who had provoked him, but he has hadnothing to do with you.""Ah, really! So Chateau Renaud had the right to quarrel with mybrother because he offered his arm to a woman whom Chateau Renaud hadscandalously deceived, and according to you he had the right tochallenge my brother. M. de Chateau Renaud killed my brother, who hadnever handled a pistol: he shot him with the same sense of securitythat a man would shoot a hare; and yet you say I have no right tochallenge Chateau Renaud. Nonsense!"I bowed without speaking."Besides," he continued, "you have nothing to do with it. You may bequite easy. I wrote to Giordano this morning, and when we return toParis all will have been arranged. Do you think that M. de ChateauRenaud will refuse?""M. de Chateau Renaud has unfortunately a reputation for courage whichmay serve to remove any doubt you may entertain on that score.""All the better," said Lucien. "Let us go to breakfast."We returned to the road, and entering the cabriolet, I told the man todrive to the Rue Rivoli."No," said Lucien, "you shall breakfast with me. Coachman, the _Caféde Paris;_ is not that the place where my brother usually dined?""I believe so," I replied."Well, that is where I requested Giordano to meet us.""To the Café de Paris, then."In half an hour we were set down at the restaurant.