"
At this point Morris, roused from his elaborate musings, caught, not very
clearly, at the meaning of it all. But he had not time to see more, for
just then he was called by the governor, and passed into the room where
Mammon, for the moment, perched like a leering, little dwarf upon the
shoulders of adventurous gentlemen grown avaricious on a sudden.
"Monsieur, there is but one way. Well?" repeated Iberville.
"I am ready," replied Gering, also getting to his feet. The Frenchman
was at once alive to certain difficulties. He knew that an envoy should
not fight, and that he could ask no one to stand his second; also that it
would not be possible to arrange a formal duel between opposites so young
as Gering and himself. He sketched this briefly, and the Bostonian
nodded moody assent. "Come, then," said Iberville, "let us find a place.
My sword is at my hand. Yours?"
"Mine is not far off," answered Gering sullenly. Iberville forbore to
point a moral, but walked to the mantel, above which hung two swords of
finest steel, with richly-chased handles. He had noted them as soon as
he had entered the room. "By the governor's leave," he said, and took
them down. "Since we are to ruffle him let him furnish the spurs--eh?
Shall we use these, and so be even as to weapons? But see," he added,
with a burst of frankness, "I am in a--a trouble.
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