half-past twelve when the two riders crossed the bridge that had been
recently erected over the Shelif, and a quarter of an hour later
their steeds, flecked with foam, dashed through the Mascara Gate,
which was one of five entrances opened in the embattled wall
that encircled the town.

At that date, Mostaganem contained about fifteen thousand inhabitants,
three thousand of whom were French. Besides being one of the principal
district towns of the province of Oran, it was also a military station.
Mostaganem rejoiced in a well-sheltered harbor, which enabled her to
utilize all the rich products of the Mina and the Lower Shelif. It was
the existence of so good a harbor amidst the exposed cliffs of this coast
that had induced the owner of the _Dobryna_ to winter in these parts,
and for two months the Russian standard had been seen floating from her yard,
whilst on her mast-head was hoisted the pennant of the French Yacht Club,
with the distinctive letters M. C. W. T., the initials of Count Timascheff.

Having entered the town, Captain Servadac made his way towards Matmore,
the military quarter, and was not long in finding two friends
on whom he might rely--a major of the 2nd Fusileers, and a captain
of the 8th Artillery. The two officers listened gravely enough
to Servadac's request that they would act as his seconds in an affair
of honor, but could not resist a smile on hearing that the dispute
between him and the count had originated in a musical discussion.
Surely, they suggested, the matter might be easily arranged; a few
slight concessions on either side, and all might be amicably adjusted.
But no representations on their part were of any avail.
Hector Servadac was inflexible.

"No concession is possible," he replied, resolutely. "Rossini has