"You are now in France," said the elder of the two, "where a duel is
the established remedy for an insult, among gentlemen. You are bound
to respect the social laws of the country in which you are for the time
residing. If you refuse to do so, you lay yourselves open to a public
imputation on your courage, of a nature too degrading to be more
particularly alluded to. Let us adjourn this interview for three hours
on the ground of informality. We ought to confer with _two_ gentlemen,
acting on Mr. Romayne's behalf. Be prepared with another second to meet
us, and reconsider your decision before we call again."

The Frenchmen had barely taken their departure by one door, when Romayne
entered by another.

"I have heard it all," he said, quietly. "Accept the challenge."

I declare solemnly that I left no means untried of opposing my friend's
resolution. No man could have felt more strongly convinced than I did,
that nothing could justify the course he was taking. My remonstrances
were completely thrown away. He was deaf to sense and reason, from the
moment when he had heard an imputation on his courage suggested as a
possible result of any affair in which he was concerned.

"With your views," he said, "I won't ask you to accompany me to the
ground. I can easily find French seconds. And mind this, if you attempt
to prevent the meeting, the duel will take place elsewhere--and our
friendship is at an end from that moment."

After this, I suppose it is needless to add that I accompanied him to
the ground the next morning as one of his seconds.