though, the next moment, when Varvilliers stepped forward holding a pair of single-barrelled pistols. Wetter opened his lips for the first time:
"Why not revolvers?"
"If we allow a second shot, Vohrenlorf and I will reload. Pardon, sire, have you any other weapon about you?"
I answered "No," and Wetter made the same reply to a like question. But I had seen a sudden change pass over his face when he was told that revolvers were not to be used. An idea entered my head and would not be dislodged; a man might fire more calmly at the King if he were resolved in no case to outlive the King. I said nothing; what could I say or do now? But strangely and suddenly, under the influence of this thought, my anger died away. I saw with his eyes and felt with his heart; I saw how he stood, and I knew that I had brought him to that pass. Was it strange that he fired at me without faltering, although I might be ten times a king? It seemed to me almost just that he should kill me. Varvilliers would not give him a revolver. Did Varvilliers also suspect? I think his fear was rather of our extreme rage against one another. It occurred to me that I would not aim at my opponent. But then I thought I had no right to act thus; it would make matters worse for him if I fell. Besides my own life did not seem to me a thing to be thrown away lightly.
Varvilliers produced another pair of pistols, similar to those which Wetter and I now held. He loaded both, fired them into the targets, and placed one on a shelf at either end of the room.
"Those are the first shots. You understand? The gentleman who is hit made the mistake of not
