They repaired to a neighboring restaurant. Duroy was silent. He ate
that they might not think he was frightened, and went in the
afternoon with Boisrenard to the office, where he worked in an
absent, mechanical manner. Before leaving, Jacques Rival shook hands
with him and warned him that he and Boisrenard would call for him in
a carriage the next morning at seven o'clock to repair to the wood
at Vesinet, where the meeting was to take place.

All had been settled without his saying a word, giving his opinion,
accepting or refusing, with such rapidity that his brain whirled and
he scarcely knew what was taking place. He returned home about nine
o'clock in the evening after having dined with Boisrenard, who had
not left him all day. When he was alone, he paced the floor; he was
too confused to think. One thought alone filled his mind and that
was: a duel to-morrow! He sat down and began to meditate. He had
thrown upon his table his adversary's card brought him by Rival. He
read it for the twentieth time that day:

"Louis LANGREMONT,
176 Rue Montmartre."

Nothing more! Who was the man? How old was he? How tall? How did he
look? How odious that a total stranger should without rhyme or
reason, out of pure caprice, annoy him thus on account of an old,
woman's quarrel with her butcher! He said aloud: "The brute!" and
glared angrily at the card.

He began to feel nervous; the sound of his voice made him start; he
drank a glass of water and laid down. He turned from his right side