"Let me press your hand, my noble friend," said Dorsenne; "never have I
better understood what a truly brave man is."

When the writer alighted, three-quarters of an hour later, at the house
on the Rue Leopardi, after having seen Montfanon home, he felt sustained
by such moral support that was almost joyous. He found Florent in his
species of salon-smoking-room, arranging his papers with methodical
composure.

"He accepts," were the first words the young men uttered, almost
simultaneously, while Dorsenne repeated Montfanon's words.

"I depend absolutely on you two," replied the other. "I have no thirst
for Monsieur de Gorka's blood.... But that gentleman must not accuse the
grandson of Colonel Chapron of cowardice.... For that I rely upon the
relative of General Dorsenne and on the old soldier of Charette."

As he spoke, Florent handed a letter to Julien, who asked: "From whom is
this?"

"This," said Florent, "is a letter addressed to you, on this very table
half an hour ago by Baron Hafner.... There is some news. I have
received my adversary's seconds. The Baron is one, Ardea the other."

"Baron Hafner!" exclaimed Dorsenne. "What a singular choice!" He
paused, and he and Florent exchanged glances. They understood one
another without speaking. Boleslas could not have found a surer means of
informing Madame Steno as to the plan he intended to employ in his
vengeance. On the other hand, the known devotion of the Baron for the
Countess gave one chance more for a pacific solution, at the same time