another minute has passed away. I can remember to this hour how my hands shook as I took the pistols out of the case and handed them to my master; I can remember what a strange stillness fell upon us all as the men took up their positions in the silence and the darkness of that gloomy morning. Even the doctor ceased his chatter and his jokes, and shut with a snap the case of instruments he had opened so briskly a moment before. It was as though we were already in the presence of death, and that the awe of death had come upon us.
"Gentlemen, are you quite ready?"
My master put the question in French, and hearing it, I glanced quickly at the two who faced each other. The count, I thought, had a look of bitter hate upon his face; the general was still smiling as blandly as a child. I could hear my heart beating like a pump as I watched them and waited for the word, which seemed a year in coming.
"Gentlemen," my master went on presently, "if you are quite ready"—here he paused—"if you are quite ready, then fire." At this word, he stepped back a pace and I saw him bite his lip in his anxiety. One of the pistols sent a thundering report through the woods almost as the word was given; but no man fell. The general had fired deliberately at the sky, and stood now with folded arms to wait the count's pleasure.
Good God! I have lived that moment a hundred times since that day. An unarmed man, waiting for
