the deliberate aim of a murderer who would have torn him limb from limb if he could! For that was the position—the old man still with that sweet smile upon his face, the young man toying with his pistol and looking like a madman or a devil. So awful was the suspense that I even heard one of the seconds cry, "For God's sake, fire!" And to this cry another of rage and horror was added a minute later, when every man saw that, instead of firing, the count had taken one deliberate step to the centre line, and that the general had imitated him.
"God of heaven!" roared the doctor at this, "is he going to shoot him like a dog, then?"
The words were still upon his lips when the count took another stride forward. I thought for a moment that the seconds would intervene. I believe to this day that they would have done, if Sir Nicolas had not cried out suddenly, "We can do nothing; he is within his right." Once this was said, the old silence fell upon us—upon all but the doctor, who turned his back upon the scene and burst out crying like a woman. And step by step, slowly, deliberately, with all the malice of a devil's heart, the murderer advanced to his work.
They were within two yards of each other at last; yet even then I could not bring myself to think that those about me would stand by and see such a cruel thing. "The count is just torturing the poor old man," I thought; "he will bring him to the centre and then fire up in the air." This opinion was
