The distance was measured (fourteen paces), the pistols carefully loaded.

Before handing them to the principals we made an effort at arrangement, an effort too contemptuously received to be insisted upon, and we saw that any attempt at reconciliation would be of no avail without the exchange of shots; so, handing to each his weapon, we retired a short distance to give the signal for firing, which was to be done by my dropping a pocket-handkerchief.

It was an anxious moment even for us, who were only lookers-on.

I gave the words, one, two, three, and dropped the handkerchief.
The pistols went off simultaneously.

To my horror I saw the young Brazilian spin round and drop to the ground, his face downwards; we rushed up to him and found that the bullet from A.'s pistol had gone through his brain.