Jasper County Democrat, Volume 13, Number 6, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 April 1910 — HIS RETIREMENT. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

HIS RETIREMENT.

How a Famous Duelist Gave Up the Practice.

By F. A. MITCHEL.

[Copyright. 1910. by American Press Association.] Count Andreas Mennerzek, a Hungarian who had fought many duels, after having safely come out of his fifteenth encounter determined to retire from the field. On doing this he resolved to give a banquet to those only who could prove that they had participated in at least five duels. Selecting three of his friends, all of whom were entitled under the condition to an invitation, he asked them to examine the credentials of those who claimed the right to be present As I have said, the count proposed to retire after his fifteenth encounter. Some said that at his twelfth he had shown a lack of nerve, which was repeater and grew upon him in his subsequent encounters, and that the reason why he intended to retire was that he dare not continue in the field. His twelfth meeting was with a mere boy barely eighteen years The challenge was sent with a statement that the count had killed the challenger’s brother. Whether it was the youth of

this his twelfth adversary or the circumstance of that adversary’s fighting •to avenge his brother or some superstition no one knew, but Mennerzek showed an extreme distaste for killing the boy, intending to pink him. But the youth fought so desperately that the count was finally to run him through to save his own life. The youth did not die, but it was said that he would never recover from his wound. All these facts and encounters were the talk of Vienna, and liever was there so much interest manifested in any function as “the immortal’s” banquet celebrating his retirement from the field in which he had so long held the most conspicuous place.. For two months the committee examined credentials. Among the applicants was one woman. She had been out only once, but claimed that for a woman to fight a duel with a man was equivalent to the record of “the immortal” himself. She declined to appear before the committee, but sent a certificate of a physician who had attended her after her encounter in which she had been wounded. The committee, all of whom were gallant gentlemen, unanimously voted to "admit the applicant.

When the evening for the banquet arrived Count Mennerzek Received his guests in an anteroom communicating with the banquet hall. He looked about as if for some oqe and said: “But I have been told that I am to entertain a lady. I don’t see her.” “She wrote, count,” said one of the invitation committee, “that since a woman would be out of place among so many men she would merely appear for a few minutes after toffee is served.” The host led the way into the banquet room and stood at his seat at the head of the table flanked by a man on his right who had fought the next greatest number of duels—thirteen—and on his left by one who had fought the next number—eleven. The others were airanged in „ accordance with their Records. One seat was not occupied—that at the' end of the table opposite the count. It was reserved for the lady. : For three hours there was the hum of conversation, naturally about the encounters of the conyersers, while the popping of corks represented those contests wherein pistols or rifles had been used. In several cases men met men who had been adversaries. .It was singular to hear them discuss in a friendly way combats in which they., had tried to kill each other. Then there were those who had fought and bad never been reconciled. Despite the Injunction of the host that every man should be every other man’s friend some of these glared at one another as though they would like to go out again and settle their quarrel. One couple attempted to leave the room for such a purpose, but found themselves locked In. The count had foreseen that the meeting of so many men who had so often fought might kindle anew some smoldering flame and had taken the necessary precautions. Coffee had been brought on and I>-.J ieen. drunk and still the one guc:*t in whom was felt more interest than

'ln all the rest together did not appear Mennerzek, whose spirits were at tbo highest, called out to the committeeman who had told him the lady would join them at coffee to know why she did not appear. -- r' “I told her, count.” was the reply, “that I could not name the exact time coffee would be served, but I thought It would be at 12 o’clock. She will be here at that hour.” There was something in this fighting woman connected with the witching hour of night that addejl to the zest of her expected entrance. A clock resting on a mantel over a-broad fireplace marked the hour, and many were the glances cast at it by the revelers. When the hands were near the hour of 12 every face was turned toward the door at which the guest would enter. The count, who sat facing the entrance, gave an order that the door should be unlocked. This was done, and *l>e conversation gradually dropped off until the clock struck 12. when it ceased entirely. A few minutes after 12 the door was thrown open by a servant, and the lady stepped into the apartment Every man rose. The woman who was entitled to a place among these duelists was about twenty-five years old, of medium height, a willowy figure and very dark hair and eyes. She wore a cloak, which she handed to the servant who had admitted her. It was evident that she had been beautiful and tjiat her beasty had been lost by sorrow, for her face bore unmistakable signs of having suffered. She advanced to the vacant chair at the feud of the table opposite the host, and as she seated herself the others resumed their chairs. •Meanwhile the expression on the count’s face changed to one of serious and eager curiosity. He was the first—naturally the first since he was the last—to speak. ■ „ ' “Your face is familiar to me, madam. May I ask where I have met you?" The answer came icy cold: “On the field. It’s to my encounter with you that I am entitled to the honor of a place among you here.” “Pardon me; I have never fought a woman.” “You fought one you thought to be a beardless boy. I was that boy.” The count started. A slight pallor overspread his face. The woman continued: “The duel you fought before that, count, was with my husband the day after our marriage. I offered my fortune to any? man who would kill you. One tried to oblige me, but lost his life in doing so. Then I felt that it was my own time to act. Personating the brother of tjiis man who tried to avenge me, I challenged you and was carried off ,the field, as it was supposed, mortally wounded.” There was a pause. The clock on the mantel ticked loudly in the otherwise silent room. Then the woman continued: “As you see, I recovered. I was planning further effort to punish you for your many crimes when I heard that you were about to retire from the dueling field. I secured an invitation here in order that you might grace your retirement with one more victim. I have a proposition.” The cojunt continued to stare at his only woman guest, but did not speak. “Gentlemen,” continued the lady, “I have no formal challenge for our host. I simply request that we be furnished with pistols and that some one of your number will give us a signal. We can do so as we sit and with a large number of expert witnesses to see fair play.” No one spoke for a few moments: then the man on the host’s right said: “Gentlemen, you hear the lady’s proposition. At seems to. me that we are in honor bound to accord her the opportunity she asks provided our host consents to her terms.” “I will not fight a woman,” said the count, almost with a groan. “You shall fight a woman,” said the lady, “or I will post you as a coward all over the capital/’ All looked toward the count. It seemed that he read the hand of fate In the coming of this woman whose life he had wrecked. He sat irresolute, as if trying to make-up his mind what to do, whether to sacrifice her or himself. There were too many witnesses for him to act any other part than that of a man. He could not kill a woman before them, especially one he had so injured. If he did not kill her she would kill him. He must accept one or the other of these alternatives. “Come, coynt,”, said his friend on his right, “what is your decision?” . “Bring the pistols,” he replied In a scarcely audible voice. 1 A smile of triumph lighted the face of his adversary. One of the guests who was to stand a#sfeeond in an affair to come off In the early morning had a case of dueling pistols within reach. They were brought. Tfie count appointed one of his guests tp act for him, and the lady appointed another to act for her. But such action was superfluous. Tlje count knew that he was doomed and it mattered not whether he was or was not properly served. As for the lady, she cared not for her life provided she- could kill the man who bad slain her husband almost at the very bridal. The pistols having been examined, one was handed to the count, the other to the lady. One of the guests rose from his chair, holding a handkerchief in his hand. “Are you ready?” he asked “Ready,” said the lady In a firm voice. The count ghve the speaker a look to signify that he was ready. The handkerchief fluttered to, the table. A sin crip shot rang out. The count fell dead. His weapon had not been discharged

EVERY MAN ROSE.