"
"Not dead!" exclaimed I (falling unconsciously on my knees, and
lifting up my clasped hands and haggard eyes to Heaven): "not dead!
God be praised. At least there is a hope that I may escape the crime
of murder."
Before I could say more, the mayor entered my _cachot_ with the
officers of the police, and informed me that a _proces-verbal_ had
been held; that my friend had been able to give the clearest answers
to all their questions; and that it appeared from the evidence of
_Monsieur Talbot_ himself, that it was an affair _d'honneur_, fairly
decided; that the brace of pistols found in the water had confirmed
his assertions. "And therefore, _Monsieur_," continued the mayor,
"whether your friend lives or dies, _tout a ete fait en regle, et vous
etes libre_."
So saying, he bowed very politely, and pointed to the door; nor was I
so ceremonious as to beg him to show me the way; out I ran, and flew
to the apartment of Talbot, who had sent my servant to say how much he
wished to see me. I found him in bed. As I entered, he held out his
hand to me, which I covered with kisses, and bathed with my tears.
"Oh, Talbot!" said I, "can you forgive me?"
He squeezed my hand, and from exhaustion let it fall. The surgeon led
me out of the room, saying, "All depends on his being kept quiet." I
then learned that he owed his life to two circumstances--the first
was, my having bound my neckcloth round the wound; the other was, that
the duel took place below high-water mark.
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