The scene instantly spiraled out of control!
Gentlemen rushed forward to intervene, while ladies let out suppressed screams or gasps.
The Marquise de Laverneuil's face turned pale; she hadn't expected things to escalate to this point.
"Miss Shcherbatova, calm down!"
"Madam, this is too much!"
"Stop it!"
However, Mrs. Rothschild, at the eye of the storm, displayed astonishing composure.
She didn't even glance at the glove by her feet, which symbolized the challenge, but instead looked directly into Sophia's angry eyes.
Far from showing fear, a sneer flickered across her face.
Amidst the noisy pleas for them to stop, Mrs. Rothschild slowly said, "I accept."
The drawing-room fell into a dead silence once more, everyone watching her in disbelief.
Mrs. Rothschild slightly raised her chin:
"Since Miss Shcherbatova has decided to uphold her honor in such a traditional manner, then—
I, Éléonore Adélaïde de Rothschild, will naturally oblige."
She turned to a stunned gentleman beside her:
"Tomorrow, I will name my witnesses. Miss Shcherbatova, I hope you will also name your witnesses as soon as possible."
——————
"So, you want me to be a witness to your duel with Sophia?"
Lionel looked at Mrs. Rothschild before him, a bit speechless.
He felt that this dazzling noblewoman's account was highly questionable, but not having been present, he couldn't discern what was true and what was false.
Even if Sophia were utterly brainless, she wouldn't behave so rudely at the salon of a respected Marquise.
This, even if it didn't completely ruin the Shcherbatov family's efforts in Parisian high society, would at least significantly increase the cost.
Lionel's intuition told him that Mrs. Rothschild must be hiding something, especially the part about how she provoked Sophia.
Even the Marquise might have been involved.
But why she was so determined to keep Baroness Alexeeva and her daughter out of Paris's high society surely had reasons he didn't know.
It couldn't possibly be because Baroness Alexeeva's chest hair was too prickly, could it?
But Mrs. Rothschild merely looked at him, smiling:
"What, you're unwilling?"
Lionel thought for a moment and didn't immediately agree, instead asking first,
"Aren't duels illegal? Don't the police intervene?"
France had issued numerous decrees outlawing dueling since the 17th century, and it was no different in other European countries.
Not only because this method was too bloody and barbaric, but also because it caused immeasurable losses to society as a whole.
Russia's national poet, Pushkin, died in a duel for his flirtatious wife.
France's national mathematician, Évariste Galois, also died in a duel at the mere age of 21.
It is said that before his death, he furiously wrote for three days and three nights, recording all his mathematical achievements, and occasionally scribbling "I have no time" beside them.
Ultimately, he was hit by three bullets in the abdomen during the duel and died a few days later.
Mrs. Rothschild glanced at Lionel, saying with a half-smile,
"Of course dueling is illegal; even a witness is considered an accomplice.
So, Mr. Lionel Sorel, are you willing to be my accomplice?
Or are you suggesting you want me to be a coward, to voluntarily cancel the duel and bow to Sophia?"
Lionel felt a headache coming on.
According to Mrs. Rothschild, she had initiated this dispute to defend her honor.
If he shirked this "responsibility," he would practically face social death in current-day France.
And whether it was Mrs. Rothschild or Sophia, whoever proposed canceling the duel would face social death—at least for a period.
This era still had strong feudal traditions, and dueling was one of them, a matter of great honor.
Lionel struggled to find another reason:
"Then... what about your husband? Didn't he stop you?"
Mrs. Rothschild's smile remained:
"James... he went to America to handle some business and won't be back until Christmas. And he's already expressed his support for me via telegram!"
Then she considerately said to Lionel,
"Are you afraid I might get hurt, or even die, in the duel?"
Lionel quickly nodded like a chicken pecking rice:
"Yes, duels are too dangerous, just think of Pushkin, think of Galois..."
A strange gleam shone in Mrs. Rothschild's eyes:
"Lion, I knew you cared about me!"
Lionel: "..."
Mrs. Rothschild lazily shifted her posture, leaning back on the sofa, crossing one leg and revealing a startling stretch of fair skin.
She "comforted" Lionel:
"Don't worry, Lion, no one will die in this duel, nor will anyone be seriously injured. That's why I need you to be my witness."
Lionel's face was full of question marks.
Mrs. Rothschild explained:
"For every duel, both parties must each appoint two witnesses, who then negotiate the time, place, weapons, and rules of the duel.
The most important are the latter two—weapons and rules. If it's pistols, it's certainly very dangerous; but if it's sabers, the damage can be controlled.
Which weapon would you choose for me?"
Lionel was already numb; there could only be one answer:
"Sabers, of course, Madam."
Mrs. Rothschild nodded with satisfaction:
"And as for the rules, saber duels are divided into two types: 'first blood' and 'loss of combat ability.'
'First blood' means that as soon as one party is injured and bleeds, no matter how slightly, the duel ends; 'loss of combat ability' means just what it says.
So, which one would you choose for me?"
Lionel: "...'First blood' rules, of course."
Mrs. Rothschild nodded with satisfaction again:
"I believe Sophia, like myself, has received strict fencing training and knows her limits.
Moreover, besides the witnesses, there will also be a doctor present at the duel, so rest assured! My aim is not to kill her.
And once she calms down, she wouldn't dare kill me in Paris—this is just a special kind of 'salon.'"
Lionel was still worried:
"But blades have no eyes... what if..."
Mrs. Rothschild subtly raised her chin:
"Are you suggesting you want me to evade this duel and lose all honor?"
Since his rebirth, this was the second time Lionel had been so thoroughly cornered, but he could only nod:
"Alright, I agree to be this witness."
Immediately, he remembered something and asked,
"Didn't you say there would be two witnesses? Who is the other one?"
Mrs. Rothschild answered with a smile:
"Of course, it's the esteemed Marquise de Laverneuil... this was her mistake in inviting us..."
Lionel looked at her in surprise, becoming even more certain that the version of the conflict he had just heard was highly problematic.
At this point, as if remembering something, Mrs. Rothschild added:
"Oh, and the doctor told us that to prevent clothing from contaminating wounds, Sophia and I will remove all our upper garments during the duel, all of them..."
Lionel completely lost his composure, spitting a mouthful of coffee onto the coffee table and coughing repeatedly:
"Th-th-this... is this something I can 'witness'?"
Mrs. Rothschild let out a soft "heh," her eyes like silken threads:
"That's why one of the witnesses is a lady—but, do you want to 'witness' it?"
...
When Lionel left Mrs. Rothschild's mansion, his mind was still in a daze.
He only remembered Mrs. Rothschild's answer to his last question before he left:
"Deduction? I merely saw the coachman downstairs, beaten to a bloody pulp by her..."
(End of chapter)