Squirt-guns
would be deadlier at fifty. Consider, my friend,
you and I are banded together to destroy life, not make
it eternal."
But with all my persuasions, all my arguments, I was only
able to get him to reduce the distance to thirty-five yards;
and even this concession he made with reluctance,
and said with a sigh, "I wash my hands of this slaughter;
on your head be it."
There was nothing for me but to go home to my old
lion-heart and tell my humiliating story. When I entered,
M. Gambetta was laying his last lock of hair upon the altar.
He sprang toward me, exclaiming:
"You have made the fatal arrangements - I see it in your eye!"
"I have."
His face paled a trifle, and he leaned upon the table
for support. He breathed thick and heavily for a moment
or two, so tumultuous were his feelings; then he hoarsely
whispered:
"The weapon, the weapon! Quick! what is the weapon?"
"This!" and I displayed that silver-mounted thing.
He cast but one glance at it, then swooned ponderously
to the floor.
When he came to, he said mournfully:
"The unnatural calm to which I have subjected myself
has told upon my nerves. But away with weakness!
I will confront my fate like a man and a Frenchman."
He rose to his feet, and assumed an attitude which
for sublimity has never been approached by man,
and has seldom been surpassed by statues.
