Simone opened the door to see Colin. His face was drawn tight, and he said merely, “Hello, Simone.”
“Colin, come in.” Simone stepped back, and Colin entered the house. She saw that she was stiff and tense.
“I just heard about Bayard’s challenging Compier. I came right over to talk to him.”
“It’s—it’s terrible, Colin.” Simone’s voice was barely above a whis-per. She clasped her hands, and he saw that they were trembling. She pressed her lips together in an attempt to gain control and said, “Father’s talking to him now, and I’ve tried everything. He just won’t listen. Has he lost his mind?”
“Could we go into the parlor? I’d like to wait until he gets through talking with your father.”
“Oh, of course, come in. It’s cold out here in the foyer.” Simone led him to the parlor. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and she picked up a poker and jabbed at the logs. They settled and hissed, sending a storm of golden sparks up the chimney. Putting the poker back in the holder, Simone turned to Colin, and her eyes mirrored the fright she felt. “He’ll be killed, Colin. I know he will.”
“We mustn’t let him do it, Simone. I feel responsible. I should have taken up Compier’s challenge.”
“I heard that he was deadly with any sort of weapon.”
“That’s true. Armand spoke of him often. He didn’t admire him, but everyone knew about him. I think all he’s ever done is fight with a sword.”
“What’s he doing over here?”
Colin shook his head and said, “He claims he wants to start a fencing academy here in New Orleans—at least that’s what I heard.”
The two stood silent for a moment. Simone walked over to the window and stared out. Colin went to stand beside her. “You mustn’t let this destroy you, Simone.”
“We’ve never had anything like this happen. Now I know how you felt when Claude challenged Armand. I was unmoved by it. Oh, what a terrible beast I was!”
Colin put his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve changed since then.”
“I’m glad you think so, but I can hardly speak. I didn’t realize what a terrible thing fear was. It’s worse than being physically ill. Oh, Colin, what are we going to do?”
“We have to talk sense to Bayard. He’s fallen into this ‘honor’ business again. All of this is part of that stupid code duello men-tality. Why can’t people see that it’s brutal and cruel? How many good men have died because of some mistaken idea of honor?” He took her arm and led her over to the sofa in front of the fire. “Here, sit down,” he said.
“I’m too frightened even to pray. That’s silly, isn’t it? When we’re afraid, that’s when we need to go to God.”
“You’re right about that. Well, we’ll agree to pray for Bayard, that he’ll come out of this safely.”
“Son, don’t you see how foolish this is? The man’s nothing but an assassin.”
“I’m sorry that we don’t agree on this, Father, but I don’t see any way I can refuse to meet him.”
Louis d’Or paced the floor in his study. His voice was tight with anxiety. “Bayard, God has just come into your life. We all see it, son. Something happened to you when you nearly died out in the bayou. You’ve become a different sort of person, and a great future lies before you. Are you going to throw it all away because of your fool-ish pride?”
Bayard listened, and although he desperately wanted to please his father, he had stubbornly set himself to do the thing. Finally his father threw up his hands and said, “I can’t believe you’re going to do this. I thought you had more sense.” He turned and walked out of the room.
As soon as he left, Bayard sat down in a chair beside the bookcase. His nerves were on edge, and he started when the door opened. Seeing Fleur come in, he stood up at once, and when she put out her hands, he took them.
“Your father, he talk to you about this fight. I hope you listen to him.”
“I’d like to, Fleur, but I can’t.”
A steadfastness in her gaze held him. “I think you are wrong.”
“Everyone thinks I’m wrong.”
“And that don’t tell you nothing? Your father, your sister, your mother, and me. And I hear that everyone who is talking about say you are crazy to fight this man. He is a butcher!”
Bayard released her hands and turned away. He could not bear to meet the accusation in her eyes. He walked over to the desk, stared down at it, then turned quickly. “You don’t understand, Fleur. No one does. All my life I’ve done nothing but take the easy way out. I became a weak lowlife, and this is the one chance I have to prove that I have some metal in me.”
“No, it proves you have pride in you!”
“Well, pride is a good thing, isn’t it?”
“No, not the kind you have. The Bible say that God loves humil-ity. I remember a verse my ma mere say over and over to me. It is in the Proverbs, I think. It says, ‘By humility and the fear of the LORD are riches, and honour, and life.’ And that is what you are giving up because of your pride. Not riches or honor, for there is no honor involved in this. Only pride! So you are giving up your life for a worth-less thing.”
She went to him and put her arms around him. She put her head down on his chest and whispered, “Don’t you see, my Bayard? What does it matter what people say as long as you know you are doing the wise and right thing?”
Bayard stood absolutely still. Finally he gave a short laugh. He put his hands on Fleur’s shoulders and said, “All right. I’ll apologize to the man. It goes against the grain, but I will do it because you say so.”
Fleur’s face lit up. She put her hand on his cheek and said, “That is a fine thing. God will honor you for this. Bayard, you must do it as soon as possible.”
“It will have to be in public. I’ll look him up tomorrow.”
“Come. We must tell your parents and your family. They are so worried about you!”
Bayard slept little that night. He practiced the speech that he planned to make to Compier until it became bitter in his thoughts. His fam-ily had been ecstatic when he told them that he would apologize, as had Colin. Colin had grasped his hand and said, “That’s the mark of true wisdom there, Bayard. You wouldn’t make anyone happy getting yourself killed.”
Bayard waited until midafternoon, and then he stood outside the saloon he had heard from Byron Mayhew that Compier frequented. Taking a deep breath, he muttered, “I’d almost rather be shot than do this.” Nevertheless, he straightened his shoulders and walked in. As soon as he entered the room, men began to mutter. When he started for the table where Jean Paul Compier sat playing poker, a silence ensued.
Compier was aware of him. He put his cards down and turned to face Bayard. He said nothing, and Bayard could not read what was in his eyes. But he had a chore to do, and he said quickly, “I have come to speak with you, sir.”
“Well, speak on.”
The words were like acid in Bayard’s mouth. “I have come to apologize. I behaved in a most ungentlemanly way, and I must ask you to overlook my words.”
Jean Paul’s eyes changed. Something flickered in them, but his voice was harsh. “So you insult me in public, and now you think by a few words you can wipe it out? I refuse your apology. If you are not a coward, I will meet you at the appointed time.”
Bayard knew then that the matter was hopeless. He nodded, say-ing quietly, “Very well, sir.” He turned and left the room and went home. He knew that the news would frighten his family, but he felt fenced in—trapped. “There’s no other way for it.”
Vernay was ecstatic. As Compier started to leave the saloon, he grabbed his arm. He said, “You’ve got him now! I know Seymour. He’ll never permit that boy to fight. He’ll come rushing in to save him, and then you can kill him out of hand.”
Jean Paul Compier struck Vernay’s hand away from his arm. “Never touch me again,” he said. He glared at Vernay until Claude felt a touch of fear. He knew the deadliness of the man. “What’s wrong with you? It’s going just as we planned.”
Compier said bitterly, “You are a dog, and I am worse for what I am doing. Get out of my sight, Vernay!”
Vernay at once backed away. “We have an agreement,” he whispered.
“If you do not leave, you will not be in any condition to know anything about our deal, for I will kill you.”
Compier watched as Vernay’s face turned pale. Then as he turned and strode out of the saloon, Compier thought, I thought I had sunk low, but never as low as this.
Colin went again to the d’Or house and found Bayard in his studio. He was not painting but simply standing beside a window, looking out on the frozen earth. When Colin entered, he said, “It’s a cold night for you to be out.”
“I just heard about what happened at the saloon.” He put his hand on Bayard’s shoulder. “You can’t do this to yourself.”
“I don’t have any option.”
“Yes, you do. It’s not your fight. Vernay is behind all this. He’s out to destroy me, and he’s using you.”
“Talking won’t do any good.”
“I look on you as a friend, Bayard. I might as well tell you that I love your sister, and I’m going to marry her if I can.”
“That is good news, Colin. I’ve watched her. She cares for you very deeply, and she needs a man like you.”
“That’s good to hear from you, but this thing you’re going to do is not wise. Speaking of love, I have the feeling you care for Fleur. She’s going to need all the help she can get, and a dead man can’t help her.”
“I’ve got to do it, Colin. I failed at everything I ever tried. I always gave up when things got tough, but I’m not going to give up on this!”
Colin argued strenuously, but finally, when he left the house that night, he shook his head, saying, “He’s so young and so foolish. Something has to be done!”