"Fire, monsieur, fire!" said the seconds.

M. de Barjols stood silent and motionless on the spot where he
had fired.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," replied Roland; "but you will, I hope,
permit me to be the judge of the time and manner of retaliating.
Since I have felt M. de Barjols' shot, I have a few words to
say to him which I could not say before." Then, turning to the
young aristocrat, who was pale and calm, he said: "Sir, perhaps
I was somewhat too hasty in our discussion this morning."

And he waited.

"It is for you to fire, sir," replied M. de Barjols.

"But," continued Roland, as if he had not heard, "you will understand
my impetuosity, and perhaps excuse it, when you hear that I am
a soldier and General Bonaparte's aide-de-camp."

"Fire, sir," replied the young nobleman.

"Say but one word of retraction, sir," resumed the young officer.
"Say that General Bonaparte's reputation for honor and delicacy
is such that a miserable Italian proverb, inspired by ill-natured
losers, cannot reflect discredit on him. Say that, and I throw
this weapon away to grasp your hand; for I recognize in you,
sir, a brave man."

"I cannot accord that homage to his honor and delicacy until