As the reports about Garian swept through Paris, he was not idle on rue Saint-Anthony and began to prepare for what might happen later. Under his hard work, Zola finally agreed to his request: to lend the gun to the other party.

He walked to the darkest utility room, opened a pile of discarded supplies, and searched inside.

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Of course."

Zola carefully retrieved a dusty wooden box from the innermost debris, which looked like it had not been opened in a long time, and was covered with a layer of gray-white dust. Fingers gently stroked the top, leaving a clearly visible mark.

He placed the small, thick wooden box on the table, and slowly opened it. A brand new, unused French Model 1854 revolver and a box of bullets wrapped in yellow paper, shining brightly in the sun.

Zola pushed the box in front of Garion and explained, "The situation in Paris was turbulent before, and this was originally bought by me for self-defense, but then it was useless, so I put him in the clutter pile, a weapon that I didn't use once." A brand new Type 1854 revolver. ”

"That means there's no problem with the bullets inside?"

"No problem at all, but shouldn't you think about what I said earlier? Do you really need to do this? ”

"I think I'm prepared."

Garion picked up the revolver and brass bullets in the box, set the brand new revolver aside, removed one of the bullets, and carefully separated the bullet from the cartridge case. After that, he dumped the black powder in the trash.

Zola stood aside and asked, puzzled, "Wait, Garion, what are you doing here?" ”

"Prepare for a possible duel."

Worried that the gunpowder in the bullet had not been cleaned, Garian re-loaded the bullet with clean water, carefully wiped the cartridge case with a rag, and finally reloaded the bullet.

"Alright, that's it."

Garion exhaled, he placed the bullet in the palm of his hand, carefully observed it for a while, and after making sure that there was no problem, he placed it on the table.

"Although you have thought it through, what if His Excellency Gautier really can't suppress his anger and comes to us to duel?" You can't say it's hard to do it, right? It's one thing to have the guts or not, it's another to gamble your life. I don't want to be like Pushkin and give my life for a meaningless duel. I think it's enough to give the old guys who don't want to accept new things a disadvantage, and not go overboard. ”

Confused by Garion's words, Zola scratched his hair and asked, "Do you want an open western cowboy showdown?" ”

Garion shook his head, raised his pistol and said seriously, "No, I'm going to ...... in the Russian way"

Before he could speak, he was interrupted by a rough knock on the door. Garian put away the bullets and revolver on the table and stuffed them into a drawer before Zola got up and walked over to open the door.

A strange old man stood in front of him, with a slightly chubby figure and a full beard. Between the eyebrows was a worried look.

He looked at Zola in front of him and asked, "May I ask if Mr. Garion is not there?" ”

Before Zola could speak, Garion behind him heard the movement at the door, but said directly, "Oh? Is Mr. Gautier coming? ”

Gautier's gaze swept over Zola's body and focused on the young man behind him, and for a moment he even clenched his fists, the urge to rush in and punch him hard.

But finally he let go of his grip on his fingers, and now it was his turn to bow his head and beg for help.

"We meet again, Lord Garion."

Gautier tried to be as friendly as he could, after all, this time he was asking for something.

"Does Lord Gautier want me to retract what I said in the newspaper?"

Garion said in a firm tone, "I'm sorry, I won't regret what I said, if Lord Gautier came to me with this thought, I'm sorry, please go back." ”

"Isn't there any room for negotiation?"

Gautier didn't want to be embarrassed in front of the crowd in Paris, and maybe he wouldn't be able to hold his head up in front of the public in the future.

He bit his lip and asked unrelentingly, "This was originally a dispensable misunderstanding?" ”

"So it's also a misunderstanding for conservative literati to suppress us newcomers? Aren't you believers who claim to be willing to be martyred for the arts? It is not yet your turn to be martyred, and one or two will hold back. ”

"Damn!"

He knew he couldn't convince the other party, and he knew that it was an inevitable matchup, and that if he retreated, he would become the laughing stock of the Parisian literary and artistic circles. Garion has put him on the path of no return.

"Honestly, Galyan. Are you going to take me and declare war on the conservative literati in Paris? ”

Garion shook his head, indicating that the other party was too worried, and said, "What are you thinking, Your Excellency Gautier, how could I possibly attack the conservative literati in Paris?" I'm just making a bet with you. And, do you think you can represent the entire conservative literati? ”

The other party's arrogant demeanor made the desperate Gautier finally make up his mind.

With his clenched fist slammed into his thigh, he raised his head, looked at the other party coldly, and gritted his teeth and said, "Okay, I accept your challenge." Since you think so, I'm willing to risk my life for the sake of reputation. ”

Damn the guys.

Although there was a trace of hesitation and wavering in Gautier's heart, he had been forced to this extent by the other party and could only accept the challenge.

"Do you really want to take on a challenge?"

Garian also feigned a kind "reminder" and said, "I want to explain to you beforehand, Lord Gautier. If it were me, it would be better to be a coward than to lose your life, you say? You're getting old, and there's no need to gamble your life with young people. ”

"You don't have to say it."

Gautier took Gallien's words as a radical tactic, he shook his head firmly, rejected Garion's advice, and clenched his fists, asking word by word, "What do you want me to do?" ”

"It's simple."

Garion opened the drawer, pulled out the revolver he had carefully wiped, and placed it on the table. He narrowed his eyes and said in a cold voice, "It's a death game that bets on probability. ”