VII

Day was breaking, calm and icy cold. On high the stars seemed dying away in the brightening sky, and in the deep cutting of the railway, the red, green, and white signal lamps were paling. The first locomotives were leaving the engine shed, and went off whistling, to be coupled to the first trains. Others, in the distance, gave vent to shrill and repeated screeches, their awakening cries, like cocks of the country. Duroy thought: “Perhaps I shall never see all this again.” But as he felt that he was going again to be moved by the prospect of his own fate, he fought against it strongly, saying: “Come, I must not think of anything till the moment of the meeting; it is the only way to keep up my pluck.”

And he set about his toilet. He had another moment of weakness while shaving, in thinking that it was perhaps the last time he should see his face. But he swallowed another mouthful of brandy, and finished dressing. The hour which followed was difficult to get through. He walked up and down, trying to keep from thinking. When he heard a knock at the door he almost dropped, so violent was the shock to him. It was his seconds. Already!

They were wrapped up in furs, and Rival, after shaking his principal’s hand, said: “It is as cold as Siberia.” Then he added: “Well, how goes it?”

“Very well.”

“You are quite steady?”

“Quite.”

“That’s it; we shall get on all right. Have you had something to eat and drink?”

“Yes; I don’t need anything.”

Boisrenard, in honor of the occasion, sported a foreign order, yellow and green, that Duroy had never seen him display before.