Arms and the Woman

"All in good time," retorted the Prince, getting into his coat and

furs. "Yesterday morning I had every intention of killing you; this

morning it was farthest from my thoughts, though I did hope to see you

waver. You are a man of courage. So was your friend. It is to be

regretted that we were on different sides. Devil take the women; good

morning!"

After the Count had gathered up the pistols, the two walked toward the

inn. Pembroke and I followed them at a distance.

"I wonder if he had any idea of what a poor shot you were?" mused

Pembroke. "It was a very good farce."

"I aimed ten feet to the right," said I.

"What?"

"Yes."

"Then you knew--"

"Pembroke," said I, "I had no intention of killing him, or even

wounding him. And I never expected to leave this place alive.

Something has occurred during the last twenty-four hours which we do

not understand."

"He was taking great risks."

"It shows the man he is," said I; and the remainder of the distance was

gone in silence.

The carriages were in the road, a short way from the inn. Pembroke and

I got into ours. As the Prince placed a foot on the step of his he

turned once more to me.

"Pardon me," he said, "but I came near forgetting to tell you why I did

not kill you this morning. In some way your Princess came into the

knowledge that we were going to fight it out as they did in the old

days. She came to my rooms, and there begged me to spare your life.

There was a condition. It was that she get down on her knees to

sue--down on her knees. Ah, what was your life compared to the joy of

her humiliation! Not in the figure of speech--on her living, mortal

knees, my friend--her living knees!" The carriage door banged behind

him.

It was only because Pembroke threw his arms around me that I did not

leap out of the carriage.

"Sit still, Jack, sit still! If she begged your life, it was because

she loves you."

And, full of rage, I saw the carriage of the Prince vanish. As the

carriage vanished, so vanished the Prince from the scene of my

adventures. It was but recently that I read of his marriage to the

daughter of a millionaire money lender; and, unlike the villain in the

drama, pursues the even tenor of his way, seemingly forgotten by

retribution, which often hangs fire while we live.