"Since I'm more familiar with the rules of engagement, Albert agreed that I will act as his second in this duel," Betsy said. When Albert failed to acknowledge her, Betsy turned and slapped his shoulder.
"Ja," Albert mumbled. "My second. "
"Cyrano has agreed that I will act as his second," de Largo confirmed, winking at Betsy in the process. "I suggest that we decide on the details at once. It is after all a matter of honor."
Mirari joined in without waiting for Cyrano to agree. "And Denis and I will observe to make sure that everything goes well."
"I will give no quarter, sir," said Cyrano looking directly at Albert. "Understand that I will slowly flay every inch of skin from you, then I will run my sword through first your knees, then your elbows; if I am feeling merciful, I will let you keep your manhood before I finish you. Or I might not."
"If you're going to kill him anyway, why would he care about preserving his . . ." Betsy trailed off speculatively. Then she shook her head in dismissal. "Never mind."
To say that Albert's face went from pale to fish-belly white was an apt description. Betsy appeared to relish this reaction in her unwanted suitor. Denis winced in sympathy for Albert.
"Let's begin," Betsy said. "There are decisions to be made."
Cyrano looked at her in consternation. He appeared more than a bit uncertain on how to react to a woman standing as second in a duel, especially one in which he had seemingly had a working relationship only hours before.
"We can, of course, avoid this duel all together if Herr Haleman will simply apologize to Mondemoiseau de Bergerac for insulting his person," said Mirari.
Albert sank deeper into his chair, refusing to look up at the others seated around the table.
"Stubborn ass," Betsy mumbled.
"We need to choose a field of honor. The authorities do tend to frown over dueling, so we'll probably have to take this little dust-up out into the countryside where we stand less of a chance of being caught," Mirari said after bestowing her own frown of disapproval on Albert. "I know several farmers who would be willing to loan us an empty pasture for the purposes of this duel. No fields, though. It won't do to trample their crops."
"Maybe a barn at night," Betsy suggested. "That would be plenty private."
"Not roomy enough," de Largo put in.
"But it would be dramatic!" Betsy leaned over the table. "If someone knocks over an oil lamp, it could burn the barn right down." The others stared at her. Finally, Betsy crossed her arms. "Poo. You're no fun."
"The best time for a duel is morning," de Largo continued as if Betsy hadn't spoken. "We can get it over with and the survivor can buy the rest of us breakfast."
Betsy nodded at that. "What weapons? If I understand the rules correctly the challenged party is allowed the choice of weapons. At least that's how it always is in the movies."
"I am most proficient in the sword," de Bergerac said.
"But Albert is inept at it," Betsy replied. Albert glared at her with an expression of betrayal on his face. "Well, you are!" she added.
"Pistols," Denis suggested. "They're a great equalizer. And both men should have only one shot. If both miss, then everyone must forget this whole mess." Albert nodded at that, looking slightly more hopeful. De Largo lifted a single eyebrow as he looked at Betsy, a signal that Denis took to mean that they should pay attention to what he said next. "And I should remind each duelist that if either fails to participate in the duel for whatever reason, the seconds must take over."
"Agreed!" Betsy said quickly.
"Wait! What?" Albert looked up in consternation. "I don't want Betsy to take my place!"
"You should have thought of that before you insulted Mondemoiseau de Bergerac," Betsy said in sing-song. "The two of you will stand back to back. Then we'll count off and at ten paces, you'll turn and fire!"
"Five paces," de Bergerac said. "His insult to me was intolerable!"
"I changed my mind!" Albert beat on the table to get their attention. When everyone broke off to look at him, he repeated. "I changed my mind. I don't want Betsy involved in this barbarism! Will Mondemoiseau de Bergerac's accept my formal apology?"
Cyrano de Bergerac stood and leaned over the table looking at Albert. "If you will allow me to strike you once across the back with my cane, I will consider my honor satisfied."
Albert glanced once at Betsy and then nodded. "Let's step outside to finish this, then."
The two men stood. Betsy made to follow, but Denis grasped her arm to stop her. "Leave Albert some pride. I'll go along to make sure everything goes as planned."
Betsy watched as the three of them exited Mirari's shop through the back way. Then she nodded. "I think I've let Albert's affections get out of hand. Maybe this will make him understand that I am not in love with him."
"It would be kinder to let him down hard," Mirari said. "He doesn't seem to understand being let down easy. Or perhaps he just chooses not to see that you have no interest in him. And being strung along is proving hazardous to his health."
Betsy nodded. She looked up when the door opened. It wasn't Cyrano or de Largo, just Denis. For a panicked moment she was afraid that Cyrano had gone ahead and killed Albert.
"He's all right," Denis said. "I sent him off with some friends of mine who happened to be passing. I told them to take him somewhere and let him soothe his hurt pride in some ale."
"Men," smiled Mirari. "They think alcohol is a universal cure for everything."
"If he comes back I suppose that I could tell him that I won't marry such an impetuous man as he has proven himself to be."
"That might do it," Denis said. "One impetuous person in a marriage is enough."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Betsy folded her arms and scowled at her friend.
"You could just tell him that you're engaged to Denis," Mirari put in.
"That's all I need," Denis said. "Pistols at ten paces with Albert."
"This sounds like something that Cyrano would put in one of his plays," Betsy said and then paused. "Speaking of him, where is Cyrano?"
"A good question, Madimoselle," a new voice chimed in.
The three occupants of the table turned as a new person approached the table. His dress was similar to that of Cyrano's. Once he had their attention, the man bowed. "I am the boy's tutor. Abel de Cyrano, lord of Mauvieres and Bergerac placed the boy in my care. But he managed to escape my watchful eye in Badenburg. I've managed to follow him here."
"You just missed him," Denis said. He and left with Monsieur de Largo. De Largo said he had something that he needed to talk to Cyrano about and, in fact, had been looking for him for several weeks. I had the impression that they were going to be heading out of town, rather quickly."
The stranger's eyes grew wide. "De Largo." He clapped his hand to his sword. "Please excuse me." With that, he turned and ran from the room.
"What was that about?" Betsy asked.
Mirari shook her head and smiled. "You do know that Charles de Largo is not his real name?" she asked.
"Well, then, who is he?" asked Denis, glancing back toward the door as if expecting either of the two men to make a dramatic entrance.
"Charles D'Artagnan," she said.
"D'Artagnan," said Betsy. "You mean as in D'Artagnan and The Three Musketeers?"