cause, I certainly won’t do him the honour of being concerned in it; but you, my dear sir, you who make such fine jokes, I would be very pleased to see if you have as much courage as wit.’

The role of the unhappy and mystified rival is so very humiliating that, through vanity, Pelletier during this discussion had carefully avoided mentioning his real grievance, and pronouncing the name of Madame Bouchereau. The doctor imitated a reserve, which, beside, for him in his position of favoured lover, was almost a law. He received the challenge of the general staff officer with the impassive smile which up to then had hovered constantly on his lips.

‘My dear captain,’ he said to him, ‘I see that at present it would be particularly agreeable to you to pierce my side with your good blade, or to put a ball in my thigh (I suppose that by reason of our old friendship you would spare my head), and that is a fancy that you can indulge if you are absolutely set on it. But if you kill me, who will arrange your marriage with Mademoiselle Nanteuil?

Pelletier looked at his adversary with a stupefied air which redoubled the other’s good humour.

‘Who is this Mademoiselle Nanteuil?’ he said then, in a tone that was involuntarily softened.

‘An amiable heiress whose doctor I am, though she enjoys excellent health; she has two hundred thousand francs cash, and, if an intelligent friend were to take the negotiation in hand, she would consent, I think, to make a fine fellow of your stamp happy.’

‘That scamp Magnan!’ said the captain, taking the doctor’s arm, ‘it’s impossible to get annoyed with him.’