He was very warm in bed， but he could not succeed inlosing consciousness. He tossed and turned， remained for fiveminutes lying on his back， then changed to his left side， thenrolled over to his right. He was thirsty again， and rose to drink.
Then a qualm seized him：
“Can it be possible that I am afraid？”
Why did his heart beat so uncontrollably at every wellknownsound in his room？ When the clock was about to strike，the prefatory grating of its spring made him start， and forseveral seconds he panted for breath， so unnerved was he.
He began to reason with himself on the possibility of such athing： “Could I by any chance be afraid？”
No， indeed； he could not be afraid， since he was resolvedto proceed to the last extremity， since he was irrevocablydetermined to fight without flinching. And yet he was soperturbed in mind and body that he asked himself：
“Is it possible to be afraid in spite of one’s self？”
And this doubt， this fearful question， took possession of him.
If an irresistible power， stronger than his own will， were toquell his courage， what would happen？ He would certainly goto the place appointed； his will would force him that far. Butsupposing， when there， he were to tremble or faint？ And hethought of his social standing， his reputation， his name.
And he suddenly determined to get up and look at himselfin the glass. He lighted his candle. When he saw his facereflected in the mirror he scarcely recognized it. He seemed tosee before him a man whom he did not know. His eyes lookeddisproportionately large， and he was very pale.
He remained standing before the mirror. He put out histongue， as if to examine the state of his health， and all at oncethe thought flashed into his mind：
“At this time the day after to-morrow I may be dead.”
And his heart throbbed painfully.
“At this time the day after tomorrow I may be dead. Thisperson in front of me， this ‘I’ whom I see in the glass， willperhaps be no more. What！ Here I am， I look at myself， I feelmyself to be alive—and yet in twenty-four hours I may belying on that bed， with closed eyes， dead， cold， inanimate.”
He turned round， and could see himself distinctly lying onhis back on the couch he had just quitted. He had the hollowface and the limp hands of death.
Then he became afraid of his bed， and to avoid seeing itwent to his smoking-room. He mechanically took a cigar，lighted it， and began walking back and forth. He was cold； hetook a step toward the bell， to wake his valet， but stopped withhand raised toward the bell rope.
“He would see that I am afraid！”
And， instead of ringing， he made a fire himself. His handsquivered nervously as they touched various objects. Hishead grew dizzy， his thoughts confused， disjointed， painful； anumbness seized his spirit， as if he had been drinking.
And all the time he kept on saying：
“What shall I do？ What will become of me？”
His whole body trembled spasmodically； he rose， and， goingto the window， drew back the curtains.
The day—a summer day-was breaking. The pink sky casta glow on the city， its roofs， and its walls. A flush of lightenveloped the awakened world， like a caress from the risingsun， and the glimmer of dawn kindled new hope in the breastof the vicomte. What a fool he was to let himself succumb tofear before anything was decided—before his seconds hadinterviewed those of Georges Lamil， before he even knewwhether he would have to fight or not！
He bathed， dressed， and left the house with a firm step.
He repeated as he went：
“I must be firm—very firm. I must show that I am notafraid.”
His seconds， the marquis and the colonel， placed themselvesat his disposal， and， having shaken him warmly by the hand，began to discuss details.
“You want a serious duel？” asked the colonel.
“Yes—quite serious，” replied the vicomte.
“You insist on pistols？” put in the marquis.
“Yes.”
“Do you leave all the other arrangements in our hands？”
With a dry， jerky voice the vicomte answered：
“Twenty paces—at a given signal—the arm to be raised， notlowered—shots to be exchanged until one or other is seriouslywounded.”
“Excellent conditions，” declared the colonel in a satisfiedtone. “You are a good shot； all the chances are in your favor.”