"Don't worry," she said. "It'll all be over in a few minutes. I should get out here and find my position. The orchard is just over this hill." The driver stopped and she hopped out. She wore shabby brown peasant's clothing and new brown leather boots. The driver handed down her musket rifle and equipment satchel. The gun was as tall as she was. "Don't forget to pick me up on the way back," she said before disappearing like a rabbit into the dense thickets beside the road.

The morning sun cut low through the rows of cherry trees, highlighting each white spring blossom like votive candles in a church. The cool still air was thick with the smell of the honeysuckle bordering the orchard. A double-doored coach stood at the edge of the trees. Three men milled around in the first row.

"That would be them," Louis said to Serge. "You remember the way Ramsay told you to check the pistols don't you?"

"Yes, I practiced most of the night. I'm prepared," answered the valet.

"Good," he said reaching over to squeeze Serge's knee. "Let's go."

They walked into the low trees to meet the three; Joubert, his second, and a referee who held a wooden case containing the pistols. Serge and Joubert's second shook hands and spoke softly before going aside with the third man to inspect the weapons. Joubert looked as tired as Louis.

"It's not too late to apologize Monsieur De Nehon."

Louis turned quickly and looked hard at him. Joubert hadn't known his name, or so Louis thought. He despised him more than ever now. Only a coward could forgive such an insult as he'd received two nights ago. Louis took a deep breath. "I came here to defend my statements, not to grovel."

"Very well," said Joubert, his voice almost cracking.

"We're ready," said Serge, carrying a polished mahogany flintlock in his hands.

"Take your places, gentlemen," said the referee, motioning for Joubert and Louis to come over. The trees were planted in East-West rows. The sun shone brightly down their row up to the bramble-covered hill Ramsay had spoken about. "We'll draw lots to see who will shoot into the sun," he continued.

"That won't be necessary," Louis said quickly. "I'll shoot facing east, unless you object?"

Joubert shook his head and stepped into the middle of the row, cocking his pistol as he went. Louis cocked his and took his place back to back against Joubert.

"Gentlemen, I'll count off as you take your paces. When I reach ten you may turn and fire at will. Do you both understand?" They nodded. "Good luck. One, Two, Three..."