At this point the police noticed that the public had massed
themselves together on the right and left of the field;
they therefore begged a delay, while they should put
these poor people in a place of safety.
The request was granted.
The police having ordered the two multitudes to take
positions behind the duelists, we were once more ready.
The weather growing still more opaque, it was agreed between
myself and the other second that before giving the fatal
signal we should each deliver a loud whoop to enable
the combatants to ascertain each other's whereabouts.
I now returned to my principal, and was distressed
to observe that he had lost a good deal of his spirit.
I tried my best to hearten him. I said, "Indeed, sir,
things are not as bad as they seem. Considering the character
of the weapons, the limited number of shots allowed,
the generous distance, the impenetrable solidity of the fog,
and the added fact that one of the combatants is one-eyed
and the other cross-eyed and near-sighted, it seems to me
that this conflict need not necessarily be fatal. There are
chances that both of you may survive. Therefore, cheer up;
do not be downhearted."
This speech had so good an effect that my principal
immediately stretched forth his hand and said, "I am
myself again; give me the weapon."
I laid it, all lonely and forlorn, in the center of the vast
solitude of his palm.
