With these words he hurled the decanter, full of wine, against the mirror which hung directly opposite Hermann; striking the reflection of his person with great precision, and of course shattering the glass into fragments.  The whole company at once started to their feet, and, with the exception of myself and Ritzner, took their departure.  As Hermann went out, the Baron whispered me that I should follow him and make an offer of my services.  To this I agreed; not knowing precisely what to make of so ridiculous a piece of business.

The duellist accepted my aid with his stiff and ultra recherche air, and, taking my arm, led me to his apartment.  I could hardly forbear laughing in his face while he proceeded to discuss, with the profoundest gravity, what he termed “the refinedly peculiar character” of the insult he had received.  After a tiresome harangue in his ordinary style, he took down from his book shelves a number of musty volumes on the subject of the duello, and entertained me for a long time with their contents; reading aloud, and commenting earnestly as he read.  I can just remember the titles of some of the works.  There were the “Ordonnance of Philip le Bel on Single Combat”; the “Theatre of Honor,” by Favyn, and a treatise “On the Permission of Duels,” by Andiguier.  He displayed, also, with much pomposity, Brantome’s “Memoirs of Duels,” —­ published at Cologne, 1666, in the types of Elzevir —­ a precious and unique vellum-paper volume, with a fine margin, and bound by Derome.  But he requested my attention particularly, and with an air of mysterious sagacity, to a thick octavo, written in barbarous Latin by one Hedelin, a Frenchman, and having the quaint title, “Duelli Lex Scripta, et non; aliterque.”  From this he read me one of the drollest chapters in the world concerning “Injuriae per applicationem, per constructionem, et per se,” about half of which, he averred, was strictly applicable to his own “refinedly peculiar” case, although not one syllable of the whole matter could I understand for the life of me.  Having finished the chapter, he closed the book, and demanded what I thought necessary to be done.  I replied that I had entire confidence in his superior delicacy of feeling, and would abide by what he proposed.  With this answer he seemed flattered, and sat down to write a note to the Baron.  It ran thus: 

Sir, —­ My friend, M. P.-, will hand you this note.  I find it incumbent upon me to request, at your earliest convenience, an explanation of this evening’s occurrences at your chambers.  In the event of your declining this request, Mr. P. will be happy to arrange, with any friend whom you may appoint, the steps preliminary to a meeting.

With sentiments of perfect respect,

Your most humble servant,

JOHANN HERMAN.

To the Baron Ritzner von Jung,

Not knowing what better to do, I called upon Ritzner with this epistle.  He bowed as I presented it; then, with a grave countenance, motioned me to a seat.  Having perused the cartel, he wrote the following reply, which I carried to Hermann.