t may be convenient to separate the story into three parts.
(1) The victome's actions and thoughts up to the time when he gets into bed and faces, for the first time, the question: "Can it be possible that I am afraid?"
(2) His mental duel with himself and his disintegration.
(3) The part following his statement: "It is impossible. I cannot fight like this."
Vicomte Gontran-Joseph de Signoles is a man who thrives on appearances. He is called "Handsome Signoles." His elegant appearance and manners make him popular with women. He is socially in demand. Most of all, he's "won considerable fame as a swordsman, and still more as a marksman." And it is significant that his thought is: " 'When the time comes for me to fight a duel...I shall choose pistols. With such a weapon I am sure to kill my man.' "
Obviously he's never fought a duel. Yet he is expectantly prepared for such an eventuality. For him it's a question of "when" not "if." The reputation of a swordsman and marksman seems to have been cultivated to this end.
It's interesting that he doesn't think of simply winning any possible duel; his thought is on killing his opponent. The opportunity, if one may dare call it an opportunity, soon arises.
He is out one evening with two women friends and their husbands. They've been to the theatre, and now they're at a restaurant. A man is "staring persistently at one of the ladies," making her uncomfortable.
She mentions it to her husband, who shrugs it off and tells her to ignore it. That should have been the end of the matter. Instead, the vicomte takes it as a personal affront. He goes over to the man, asks him "to desist," the man responds with "a foul word," the vicomte slaps "his adversary's face."
"Cards were exchanged." The long-anticipated duel is at hand. He reaches home in an agitated state. "One idea alone possessed him: a duel." In keeping with his character, appearance is everything. "He would be talked about, approved, congratulated."
It is still the early stage. He thinks of the arrangements to be made. In the choice of seconds also, the determining factor is appearance. "Their names would carry weight in the newspapers. If he acts determinedly, his opponent might withdraw. His mouth is running dry. He drinks glass after glass of water. There's mounting irritation at the opponent. And anger. "I must be firm....The fellow will be afraid."
He drinks more water. Prepares for bed, telling himself to be calm. He tosses and turns in bed, unable to sleep; gets up to drink more water. Then the fateful question: "Can it be possible that I am afraid?" With this, the story enters its second phase.
Everything the vicomte goes through in this arbitrarily divided second portion of the story is what anyone would be expected to go through. The most fearless have to face it. The experienced duelist faces it. So also the coward. All have to come to terms with the possibility of death in the upcoming duel.
The mind goes through the typical states. There is fear; there is the self-examination. The "last will and testament" has to be made. There is self-doubt; and the attempt to allay one's nervousness. How one comes out of this stage proves the man. The one straw there is for the vicomte to grab, the chance of duelling with swords instead of guns, he refuses. This is sheer bravado in the desire to appear firm and determined, and to kill the opponent.
And he keeps hoping that the opponent will back out. The hope that he shall come out the winner without having to fight a duel he himself invited.
Slowly but surely he comes apart. He is reduced to trembling. He is agitated; his teeth are chattering; his mouth is parched. After drinking gallons of water, he now takes to rum. He wants "to throw himself on the ground, to bite, to scream." He is at the end of his tether. "It is impossible. I cannot fight like this."
The gun is there; it's already loaded. The duel with his own self is already lost. He cannot take the risk of appearing scared at the real duel. He would rather die than appear to be afraid. Literally. He puts the gun into his mouth and pulls the trigger. He dies a coward's death.
What are the signs of his cowardice?
Recklessness, bravado, the crutch of appearances, the need for utter triumph, are the usual signs of concealed cowardice. The vicomte invites the duel. One might say it isn't his fight. If anyone is to defend the woman's honor, it should be the husband. But the husband doesn't think it is such a serious matter.
Having got the duel he wants, he keeps hoping the opponent will withdraw! He hopes his reputation of being a swordsman and marksman will scare off the other man. In other words, he hopes the other one is a coward!
He has the choice of fighting with the sword. There are less chances of anyone dying in a sword-fight. But he refuses the chance. He wants one of two things: Either the opponent backs out, so that the vicomte triumphs; or the vicomte should kill the opponent. He wants complete triumph or nothing.
At the end, despite his fear, he could still have gone for the duel. He might have won. Or he might have lost by being wounded, but still remained alive. And if it was his reputation he was concerned about, he would have his posthumous glory in falling in a fair fight. But he chose a coward's way: He committed suicide.
A sure death; and a sure ignominy.
t may be convenient to separate the story into three parts.
(1) The victome's actions and thoughts up to the time when he gets into bed and faces, for the first time, the question: "Can it be possible that I am afraid?"
(2) His mental duel with himself and his disintegration.
(3) The part following his statement: "It is impossible. I cannot fight like this."
Vicomte Gontran-Joseph de Signoles is a man who thrives on appearances. He is called "Handsome Signoles." His elegant appearance and manners make him popular with women. He is socially in demand. Most of all, he's "won considerable fame as a swordsman, and still more as a marksman." And it is significant that his thought is: " 'When the time comes for me to fight a duel...I shall choose pistols. With such a weapon I am sure to kill my man.' "
Obviously he's never fought a duel. Yet he is expectantly prepared for such an eventuality. For him it's a question of "when" not "if." The reputation of a swordsman and marksman seems to have been cultivated to this end.
It's interesting that he doesn't think of simply winning any possible duel; his thought is on killing his opponent. The opportunity, if one may dare call it an opportunity, soon arises.
He is out one evening with two women friends and their husbands. They've been to the theatre, and now they're at a restaurant. A man is "staring persistently at one of the ladies," making her uncomfortable.
She mentions it to her husband, who shrugs it off and tells her to ignore it. That should have been the end of the matter. Instead, the vicomte takes it as a personal affront. He goes over to the man, asks him "to desist," the man responds with "a foul word," the vicomte slaps "his adversary's face."
"Cards were exchanged." The long-anticipated duel is at hand. He reaches home in an agitated state. "One idea alone possessed him: a duel." In keeping with his character, appearance is everything. "He would be talked about, approved, congratulated."
It is still the early stage. He thinks of the arrangements to be made. In the choice of seconds also, the determining factor is appearance. "Their names would carry weight in the newspapers. If he acts determinedly, his opponent might withdraw. His mouth is running dry. He drinks glass after glass of water. There's mounting irritation at the opponent. And anger. "I must be firm....The fellow will be afraid."
He drinks more water. Prepares for bed, telling himself to be calm. He tosses and turns in bed, unable to sleep; gets up to drink more water. Then the fateful question: "Can it be possible that I am afraid?" With this, the story enters its second phase.
Everything the vicomte goes through in this arbitrarily divided second portion of the story is what anyone would be expected to go through. The most fearless have to face it. The experienced duelist faces it. So also the coward. All have to come to terms with the possibility of death in the upcoming duel.
The mind goes through the typical states. There is fear; there is the self-examination. The "last will and testament" has to be made. There is self-doubt; and the attempt to allay one's nervousness. How one comes out of this stage proves the man. The one straw there is for the vicomte to grab, the chance of duelling with swords instead of guns, he refuses. This is sheer bravado in the desire to appear firm and determined, and to kill the opponent.
And he keeps hoping that the opponent will back out. The hope that he shall come out the winner without having to fight a duel he himself invited.
Slowly but surely he comes apart. He is reduced to trembling. He is agitated; his teeth are chattering; his mouth is parched. After drinking gallons of water, he now takes to rum. He wants "to throw himself on the ground, to bite, to scream." He is at the end of his tether. "It is impossible. I cannot fight like this."
The gun is there; it's already loaded. The duel with his own self is already lost. He cannot take the risk of appearing scared at the real duel. He would rather die than appear to be afraid. Literally. He puts the gun into his mouth and pulls the trigger. He dies a coward's death.
What are the signs of his cowardice?
Recklessness, bravado, the crutch of appearances, the need for utter triumph, are the usual signs of concealed cowardice. The vicomte invites the duel. One might say it isn't his fight. If anyone is to defend the woman's honor, it should be the husband. But the husband doesn't think it is such a serious matter.
Having got the duel he wants, he keeps hoping the opponent will withdraw! He hopes his reputation of being a swordsman and marksman will scare off the other man. In other words, he hopes the other one is a coward!
He has the choice of fighting with the sword. There are less chances of anyone dying in a sword-fight. But he refuses the chance. He wants one of two things: Either the opponent backs out, so that the vicomte triumphs; or the vicomte should kill the opponent. He wants complete triumph or nothing.
At the end, despite his fear, he could still have gone for the duel. He might have won. Or he might have lost by being wounded, but still remained alive. And if it was his reputation he was concerned about, he would have his posthumous glory in falling in a fair fight. But he chose a coward's way: He committed suicide.
A sure death; and a sure ignominy.
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